When the Schedule Breaks, the Tears Will Fall

In high school I was a pretty good student. I didn't spend hours studying or obsessing about the latest tests, but my report card showed some A's, mostly B's and a well-deserved but consistent C in math. I was very appropriately labeled an "ordinary" high schooler and my parents didn't worry much. I was famous for waiting until the last minute to complete complex reports and assignments. The level of stress required to perform and the late night work seemed to bring out my best scholastic achievements.

The pressure mounted, especially around midterms and finals. My dad and I, however, had an agreement - when the pressure was mounting and I needed a break I would say, "Dad, I need a mental health day." He would nod and say "okay" and without question he would write me a note to be excused from school for an entire day. Our agreement had unspoken rules: I stayed home to rest, relax, read, catch up on sleep or just veg-out in front of the TV completely alone. No friends. No visitors. This was a day for me to unwind and recharge. I deeply honored this great responsibility and privilege and I can honestly say I never broke the terms of our agreement.

Monday nights are busy at our house and usually go something like this: get off the bus, rush to get ready for ballet, rush to my son's preschool to pick him up, rush to ballet, rush home, rush to fix dinner, rush to get showers and baths, read stories and fall into bed - exhausted! This Monday night was no exception. As we rushed home and my daughter changed, she began to cry because she didn't like the snack (graham crackers and fruit snacks) I had packed for the car ride to ballet. Now let me give you a visual about what this looked like: she was standing in the living room, dressed for ballet, fat tears rolling down her cheek, her body wracked with sobs and blubbering inaudibly about the snack. Over the top? You bet. That was my first clue that something wasn't right - and that this really wasn't about fruit snacks and graham crackers.

On this afternoon, knowing something was wrong beyond a poor snack choice, I hugged her close and asked her to use her words to tell me what was wrong. She sobbed about her head hurting, being hungry, and not wanting to go to ballet this evening. I looked at her and could see she definately looked tired and since it was after 4:00 p.m. and she eats lunch at 11:25 a.m. I knew she was beyond hungry and I didn't need her to tell me she didn't want to go to ballet. In that moment I weighed my parental options. Tell her to buck-up and get herself to gether? Ignore the protest? Give-in? When kids get beyond the early childhood stage and begin to say adult things and move within the world in more aware, adult-like ways something hits you - you have no way to know exactly what they're thinking anymore. Figuring out what a baby wants and needs is relatively simple. A tantruming toddler that wants a cookie is pretty easy too. But a seven year old child that is having a complex emotional response - what do you do? What's right and how, as a parent, can I facilitate the best learning outcome here? Go with your gut.

I looked at my daughter's tired eyes and knew - for whatever reason - her needs were best served by staying home this evening. At seven she didn't quite have the ability to listen to her inner voice and hear it screaming "slow down - its getting all shaky in here and I need a break!" and then communicate that assertively to me. The tears were my communication. It was my job to look beyond them, recognize this was not manipulative. The tears were my message - Mom, I need a mental health day.

We did indeed stay home that evening. My daughter changed out of her ballet clothes into her jammies and ate a good snack and a full plate of dinner. We snuggled up early with a chapter book and I read aloud as she fell easily to sleep. I smiled to myself as one of those teary, choking emotional "mom" moments came over me realizing that I'd done a great thing. I had turned a small crisis in the life of a seven-year-old into a learning experience - I had honored the emerging inner voice of my daughter and taught her that it is deeply important. This, as women, is one of the finest gifts we can give our daughters - to teach them that their inner voice keeps them rested, safe and healthy. That night my daughter learned that sometimes we have to set aside our commitments to take care of our greatest responsibility - ourselves.