“Mom, I want this to be over.”
It’s what my kindergartener son sobbed into my shoulder this morning after hitting his breaking point in today’s school lesson. Five minutes prior I had been kneeling beside my 2nd grader’s bed while she cried her frustration into her pillow.
It’s been a month since these kids walked out of their classrooms and onto this rollercoaster of online learning. I’ve been so proud of the way they’ve adjusted. We have our moments, but all things considered — they’re taking this thing in stride.
But this week, they’re over it.
And you know what, I’m over it too.
I’m frustrated. I’ve had all of the perspective throughout all of this about the benefits of slowing down, being with my family and realizing how important relationships are … but today, I’m just MAD.
And I’ve learned to not fight these days during this period by forcing myself to be positive right away — because these emotions are serving me.
These emotions are letting my kids see ME struggle so they know their struggle is ok too.
These emotions are letting me my kids hear ME tell them it’s ok to feel sad … because sometimes we need that.
These emotions are setting me up for tomorrow when I will encourage them choose to find the positivity because we need to learn to not wish things were different, and to instead do the best we can where we are.
Today is our not-so-great day.
Tomorrow might be our best one.
The next day we might take a step back.
Next week I might have perspective.
And next month I might be tired.
But I’m not going to fight it …
Because I don’t want my kids to fight it either.
Because as we ride this roller coaster, those little souvenir pictures are being taken on all different parts of the ride. And when we come out on the other side of this thing, I want them to look back on the album of this time and see the whole reel. The anger. The frustration. The happiness. The joy. The resilience. The moments of wanting to give up. The hugs. The tears. The forgiveness.
And most importantly, I want them to see that we were right there with them on the ride.
Supporting each other.
Praising each other.
Letting each other cry.
Then lifting each other up.
So one day when another challenge comes, they’ll know what they’re capable of … and on the days the don’t have it in them, that someone will always be there to support them.
Brea Schmidt is a writer, photographer and speaker who aims to generate authentic conversations about motherhood and daily life on her blog, The Thinking Branch. She also owns a newborn, children and family photography business Photography by Brea. She and her husband raise their three young children in Pittsburgh, PA. Follow Brea on Facebook!