“I just need to be sad, Mommy!”
It was my fifth night in a row of doing bedtime with my three kids by myself.
I had said yes to staying outside extra long to play with the neighbors.
I had said yes to having dinner later than normal.
I had said yes to the boys playing downstairs with our puppy while I helped their little sister fall asleep.
My daughter was now asleep, and it was time to help my boys fall asleep.
I came downstairs to find the boys deep in Pokemon Card trading. I said they could have five more minutes to wrap it up, and then we’d start bedtime.
I headed to the kitchen to finish the dishes, and within a few minutes, one of my sons ran in, crying and yelling and so very upset.
I quickly learned that he was upset because his brother had just changed his mind about a trade they had made that night. His brother scooped up his original card, said the deal was off and that he had changed his mind.
My son was hurt, he was mad, he was sad. He was asking all of the questions, wondering how his brother could go back on his word. Why would he do that? Couldn’t I fix it?
Couldn’t I fix it?
Bedtime was like twenty minutes ago; I was out of fix-its for the day. It didn’t really seem fixable. And they were just Pokemon Cards.
I sort of did some of the things I teach parents to do in these moments. I identified why my son was mad. I validated him. I told him it made sense that he was hurt and mad. I stood with him as he processed it all out, and I made a few suggestions for next time.
He was not ready to move on; he was still upset.
But …
He had already gotten to play late at the neighbors.
He had already been given extra yeses to staying downstairs. He had already had five more minutes to play.
And it was with that mindset that my voice became more firm. I understood he was upset, but there was nothing we could do. I had already given too many yeses – it was already way past bedtime. We still needed to brush our teeth and read stories. It was time to move it along, and he needed to quiet down so we didn’t wake up little sister.
The more I hurried him, the more upset he got, until finally he said the words,
“I just need to be sad, Mommy!!!”
And I stopped dead in my tracks.
Of course he needed to be sad.
Something that mattered to him had just been taken away.
Something happened that left him hurt and feeling disappointed.
Something that he had been excited about had just unraveled.
Of course he needed to be sad.
And — sadness can not be rushed.
I put my arm up, and he came and accepted my hug, as I quieted my mouth, and he told me about why he was sad.
I listened. I didn’t solve. I didn’t defend his brother. I didn’t remind him that we were now another ten minutes behind bedtime. I didn’t distract him with what tomorrow could bring.
I listened.
It was hard. I had so little left to offer at that point of the night, at that point of the week.
But, I also knew.
Sadness can’t be rushed.
And I knew how it felt to be held in my sadness.
And I knew the gift of not being rushed amidst life’s disappointments.
And I knew the gift of having the space to be sad in the presence of another.
And that was enough to fuel me to stay present with him a little bit longer.
And that was enough for him to feel heard and soothed.
And that was enough for us both.
