Hellobee

I’ve always hated the advice, “never go to bed angry.” While I appreciate the sentiment, the practicality of it has always been elusive to me. My husband and I aren’t big fighters, but sometimes we’d get into arguments that lasted too long to fully settle before we were exhausted and we’d go to bed angry. And sometimes we’d go to bed angry the next day too, and other times, we’d wake up with a fresh perspective that the day before just eluded us. So I always kind of swept that advice to the side. Until I had kids.

Baby C is closing in on 3 years old, and while we seem to have bypassed the “terrible 2’s” (knock wood), we have our share of rough days. Usually they’re brought on by my own tiredness, hunger, being overwhelmed about all the things, etc., and not by behavior that’s completely typical for an almost 3 year old. But regardless of the reason, we do have those evenings when I put her in bed a lot sooner than usual, bypass our usual story and song time because she’s not listening to whatever I’m trying to ask her to do/stop doing/whatever, close the door and breathe a sigh of relief to not have to repeat myself for the millionth time. Those evenings happen and they will continue to happen; I’m not under any delusion to the contrary. What matters, however, is what I do with those evenings.

This past week, I was a solo parent while Mr. Carrot was away on a work trip. These occasions are rare and I have little to complain about: I have only the one kid to mind, I have plenty of time to prep in advance, a great daycare that doesn’t force me to stress about whether kiddo is cared for, and a flexible job that I can feel comfortable coming to and leaving when I need to.

But then there are evenings like today, where a doctor’s appointment ran 45 minutes later than our scheduled time, kiddo was bouncing off the walls from boredom, and I still didn’t get a clear answer on why my kid’s nose has been congested for 2 months and counting. On the way home, we got stuck in traffic, and I didn’t make dinner earlier in the day like I’d planned because I got involved in a work project instead (and skipped lunch as a result), and by the time she was fed and we called “dada” for a quick FaceTime chat, I was exhausted, eating too many chocolate covered mangos (thanks, Costco) instead of a real meal, Baby C was even more wound up, and it pretty much became a “do the opposite of everything mommy says” kind of evening.

I spent most of the evening trying to take breaths and check my impatience, but as we got into story time, Baby C was sitting on her bed, I was on the floor, and she was kicking my arm repeatedly. I finally got fed up with her not responding to my requests to stop, turned off the light and left the room. She got upset at my abrupt departure and started crying.

We all have these evenings/days. They will pop up rarely and frequently as the years and seasons change. Sometimes when we have an evening like this, I’ll give it a few minutes, go back into her room and we calm down together. Other times, like this particular evening, I needed a little more time, so I went to do the dishes. She was crying and clearly upset but I let her be for the few minutes it took me to get the dishes done and she calmed down. I considered just leaving her be – I have this thought every time we don’t end our day on a good note, but every time, I can’t leave her be without making peace.

Baby C was born a few weeks before her due date and she was tiny due to IUGR. She spent 10 days in the NICU, and one of the things that stuck with me was a nurse telling me that babies synthesize information when they sleep, particularly at night. In very simplistic terms, everything they learn during the day becomes permanent. It’s one of the reasons I obsessed about a sleep routine and making sure Baby C slept well as soon as I could, but it’s also the reason why I can’t go to bed and let my kid fall asleep with the residue of that bad interaction as her last memory.

In truth, it’s unlikely that it’ll register with her for too long that we had a fight the night before. Kids are incredibly forgetful and forgiving that way. But there’s a sense of peace that I myself can’t get to if I just leave things on a bad note. So that night, I went back into her room, sat down next to her bed, gave her a hug, sang her the usual lullabies and told her I loved her no matter what. We’ll continue fighting similar fights, usually even the next day, but as we both lay down to rest, I want us both to always be this peaceful.