Last weekend my family was having a party for my grandmother’s 95th birthday, obviously a very special occasion, one I truly wanted to attend and wanted my son to attend. Unfortunately, it was scheduled to start at noon, the time my son is usually drifting off to sleep for his nap. It was also being held in one of my grandmother’s favorite places, Purgatory Chasm. For those of you outside central Massachusetts, think picturesque wooded picnic area surrounded by potentially deadly (and therefore seriously toddler-tempting) rocks and rock chasms.
So was it an ideal event for us to go to? No. In fact my first mom gut reaction was HELL NO.
But then other influences started creeping in. Out of state relatives whom I would have loved catching up with were attending. My niece and nephew were coming, and my son adores his older cousin. There would be chocolate cake (hey, that lure is real). And probably most importantly, the loss of my other grandmother this spring weighed on my heart, and the ‘what if this is the last birthday?’ thought popped up and wouldn’t easily be swatted away.
So I squashed my mom gut instinct that told me a tired toddler overstimulated with family and food and tempted with his favorite activity, rock climbing, would be a disastrous combination. And we went anyways.
Do I need to tell how this ended? Do I need to describe the epic meltdown that ensued shortly after his usual nap time when I had to tell him no he couldn’t climb the chasm that our picnic table was placed directly in front of? Do I need to explain why I ended up holding him for his entire three hour nap on the couch when we got home and he still couldn’t settle? It wasn’t pretty. But it also wasn’t his fault. This wasn’t a case of a two year old being a brat when he didn’t get his way. (We’ve had those meltdowns too, so I’m well versed in what they look like.)
This was my fault. I know what my son needs (sleep, regular mealtimes, minimal stimulation near nap), and I ignored it because I had a case of family fomo. I’d like to tell you it was the first time I’d ignored my mom gut, but the truth is I’ve already done it too many times to recall. Sometimes it worked out. Sometimes it didn’t. Even when it does, it’s a pretty crappy parenting technique to play Russian roulette with my kid’s emotions.
Little man isn’t the easy-going, adjust-to-any-environment kid. He never has been and maybe never will be. I thought I’d accepted that before now, but the truth is I’m always looking for signs he’s ‘grown out of it’ or is getting better in crowds or stimulating situations. Sometimes it’s because as a single mom I really want, maybe even need, to get out and attend these events. Other times I’ve felt guilty missing out on important family gatherings. Either way it’s often led me to do something my mom gut told me was not a good idea with my fingers crossed and breath held.
I hope after this last incident that I’m finally done with ignoring my mom gut. I can’t shelter my son from every possible difficult situation, but while he’s still little, he needs an advocate to look out for what’s best for him. He needs me to trust my mom gut.