October 3, 2024 -
It's one of those nights where bedtime is a personal affront to MJ. Although still rare, these tantrums happen more frequently now. It's new. Sometimes, it is jarring. Every time it is dysregulating. For both of us.
How much crying do I allow? How much responsiveness is too responsive? When does self-soothing venture into ignoring? Who among us appreciates being ignored? How do I navigate tantrums without ceding parental authority/leadership or jacking up my child's attachment system?
Most of the time, I follow my instincts: providing comfort; holding the bedtime boundary; worrying about my neighbors' discomfort and side-eyes; trying to remain calm even though, like MJ, I want to cry and be comforted. Sometimes I think, "As long as he gets the recommended amount of sleep, is the when that important?"
In these moments, I'm overwhelmed and clear. My child's behavior gives me insight to an inner world that cannot be articulated in palatable-to-adults ways. Not yet. What I see, sense, feel, think, know? Right now, MJ needs rest. Instead of sleeping, he is crying.
Right now, I need rest. Instead of sleeping, I'm sitting at my desk working on _____. (Does the what really matter?)
Earlier I made a not-shared-until-now video about needing rest and the emotional/mental impact of that. I also become cranky, emotional, less for human consumption when I'm overly tired. Children aren't inexplicable; they are relatable. Parents aren't immune; we have our versions of tantrums and stage rebellions against rest too.
There's no moral here. I wrote to self-regulate. I shared because I'm prone to inappropriate levels of self-disclosure.
P.S.: Apparently, I recorded my audio journal without audio. I find that amusing. 4 minutes and 24 seconds of nothing but rest [the word and definitions]. The universe ain't subtle.
October 5, 2024 -
Today I rested. I feel well-rested. I feel better.
