This week, back to school week, bedtimes are a little stressful. We’re all out of practice. We’re all more tired than ever. The kids are a bit overwhelmed with the muchness of going back to school. And even the homeschooler is feeling the anxiety of returning to routines and demands and schedules.
So, at bedtime the other night, when the 8 year old was having a bit of a meltdown and not wanting to brush her teeth and not wanting to put away her art supplies in exchange for sleep and just generally not wanting or seemingly able to do anything I needed her to do, I was about to lose it right along with her.
I slammed a cup down on the counter and on the way into her room, I caught myself, and I paused and I took a few really deep, long, slow cleansing breaths. Really. The same kind we all used in birthing these kids of ours. And I asked myself, “what does she need?” And the answer came and I could feel calmness and compassion take over my whole being.
Instead of slamming into her room all mad, the breaths helped me catch myself. And I did. And the question helped me respond to her need and realize too that she wasn’t just doing that to make me mad. She really needed something. And in that moment the something she needed was simple. It was me.
When I walked into her room and approached her in her bed where she was thrashing about I didn’t say a word. Instead I went to her slowly and flipped her on her belly and started stroking her back. Kind of hard at first. Not hard, aggressive but hard with great intention; like I wanted to press her body into the mattress where I knew it wanted to be.
After an initial resistance, which was fleeting, I could feel her settling under my touch. And I leaned into her ear and
“sssshhhhhd”. Like the white noise sounds we used when she was just a babe that allowed her to settle after overstim. In between the sssshhh’s I leaned into her ear and repeated my mantra for the minute, “I’ve got you. I’ve got you. I’ve got you.” I could feel her melting underneath my touch and my spell. For 10 minutes or so. Maybe 12. Not even 15. I fought the urge to glance at my phone or to leave too fast to get the dishes finished or the email checked or Facebook revisited and I just allowed myself to settle with her.
And when we parted ways we both felt so so good. She was just this side of sleep. I was calm and restored – instead of angsty and tense. And the whole thing didn’t take any longer than it would have if I’d freaked out and she’d freaked out and she ended up in bed crying. Less in fact.
So that little tagline of Slow Family – slow down, connect, enjoy? It really works. When we remember. And when our own cups are filled at least a little. And it all feels better in the end. More relaxed. More connected. More joyful.
So how do we put ourselves of being in the position to do this all the time?
That is definitely the question.