Emotional support snake 🐍
Helping toddlers with big feelings
Parenting is no walk in the park. And parenting a toddler? I guess it's a walk in the park if that park is on fire and the goal is to make it to the other side alive.
Let's be clear: I love my son. He is the most delightful, amazing, strong, hilarious little three-and-a-half-year-old I've ever known in my life (I may be biased). He brings me immense amounts of joy and I am a better person because of him. Even on the hardest days, when I ask myself if I would choose to be his mom all over again, it's an emphatic yes.
But there are moments when all I can do is take a deep breath and try to not lose my shit. His limitless energy can be a lot to manage; the stakes not only feel high, they are high. In the past, me zoning out and staring at the wall for an afternoon meant, well, maybe I delayed doing laundry another day and felt a little guilty about it. Now, me daydreaming for a moment could mean he's zooming towards the playground exit straight into oncoming traffic. The constant vigilance leaves me bone-tired and emotionally wiped at the end of each day. And apparently, my parenting experience is perfectly average (or so I hear).
Which is why it's no small thing when my husband and I give each other space to do things that fill our souls. That time with friends and the opportunity to pursue hobbies is precious. But it comes at a cost. Not only is that space carved out of our busy schedule; it also means that the other person is taking on double-duty with the kiddos, managing a little baby and a still-little-but-much-more-strong-willed toddler. They have separate needs and opposite nap schedules, and they both desire undivided attention. It's a lot for any one person to manage.
I say all this to set the stage for this past Memorial Day weekend. For more than a decade, my husband has participated in the annual sailboat race from Cape Cod to Nantucket (Figawi, for those who are familiar). Historically it's been the kickoff to our summer; I often took the ferry over to the island to participate in the post-race revelries. But it is no place for young kids, so we decided that this year my husband would go solo. That left me alone with the kids for the weekend.
Things started smoothly. On Day 1, I strapped the baby into her carrier, packed a bag with all the essentials, grabbed the stroller and plopped in the toddler. We took the train and spent a lovely morning at the science museum. On the way home, we got caught in a torrential downpour. What could've sucked was rather pleasant, the warm rain hitting our faces as we laughed about how glad we were to bring our rain jackets ("I like the rain!" the toddler declared from his stroller). The day ended with not much to report.
The following day was not so cheerful. (I should've known that we were expending all the good vibes at too quick a pace.) The baby was fussy after a long, sleepless night. The toddler demanded attention and grew more and more irritated that the baby was feeling needy too. I wanted to get us out of the house. Not too far, just to the playground. I filled my Yeti mug with tea and placed it on the bench by the door. I set the baby down while I pleaded with my toddler to put on his shoes. He was excited; but the type of excited where he starts to lose control of his body and awareness of his surroundings. I took a deep breath, suppressing my annoyance, and once again asked him to sit so we could put on his shoes. He sprinted to the bench and jumped up.
Right where my mug was sitting.
The full thermos tipped over and spilled everywhere. I grabbed my son, trying to mitigate the hot liquid spilling on his skin. The liquid rushed over the edge of the bench and soon filled every pair of my shoes. My son looked down – his pants were soaked and it looked like he peed himself (he did not). He burst into tears.
I don't remember exactly what I said, but it was some variation of this: See, this is exactly why I need you to listen to me when I'm telling you to do something. You were running around and not paying attention and look what happened! All my shoes are soaked and now there’s a huge mess to clean up before we can go anywhere.
I caught myself before I totally lost it; I didn't yell, but I was really frustrated and let it show. I took a moment, paused. Dammit, it was just an accident. But man, was I peeved.
"Okay, buddy, let's get you cleaned up," I said. I took him and his sister upstairs, laid her in the crib with her whale mobile while I got him changed. I asked him to stay in his room and play while I cleaned up. When I was finished, we would still go to the park, I assured him.
I grabbed some old rags and went about scrubbing down the bench and the floor. The tea had soaked into the rug and there just wasn't much to be done about it. My shoes, sigh. I guess they could go in the wash. I'd have to dig up an old pair from the basement for the day. As I finished, I noticed a lack of noise upstairs –never a good sign, in my experience. Poking my head around the corner, I saw my son had come out of his room and was sitting at the top of the stairs. I walked up and took a seat next to him. He sat there, his head down, holding a green (very realistic) rubber snake that my sister had bought him from the science museum's gift shop a few months prior. "Whatcha doing?" I asked.
He turned to me, his eyes welling with tears. He looked back at the toy.
"This is my snake," he said, his little voice breaking. "He's my best friend, and he makes me feel loved and cared for." The tears rolled down his cheeks. "I ruined everything forever."
My heart broke. This precious, little person in front of me really hadn't done anything wrong, not really. He was just being a toddler. And while my frustration was valid, the weight of big feelings and heavy emotions were too much for such little shoulders to carry. While I was proud of myself for not yelling, I was struck by how attuned he was to my own emotions and how much it hurt him to feel disconnected. Enough to turn to this creepy snake for emotional support.
I hugged him and let him cry. I told him I was so happy that the snake made him feel loved, and that I loved him very much too. That even when things were messy and hard to handle, they were never ruined forever. And that even though he spilled my drink, at the end of the day it was simply another mess to clean up and that I loved him more than anything and always would. He listened intently, and breathed a sigh of relief. I held him tight for a few more moments, then asked if he wanted to help me finish cleaning up before we went to the park. He nodded eagerly and we worked together on the final bit of the puddle.
I mean it when I say it's tough being a toddler. In the moments when I'm able to put aside my own ego and sense of what's important, I see a big, complicated world that doesn't make a whole lot of sense to a child. And I was reminded how something so small – spilled tea – can turn into something so big – I ruined everything forever – in the blink of an eye. As much work as it takes to teach our children the language of emotions and help them develop the courage to talk about those emotions, it is so worth it to help them process everything they're experiencing. I can only imagine the consequences of my son having taken away from that situation that he was the problem, rather than an opportunity to speak with him honestly about things like frustration, excitement, body awareness, repair, and unconditional love. Mistakes and accidents will happen, but it's what we do with them and how we respond that matter more than the accident itself.
I've still got a long way to go when it comes to letting go of the small stuff so that I can prioritize connecting with those I love most. Each situation is a chance to practice, a moment to choose whether I'm going to live out my values or let my own wild self get the best of me. It's not easy, and I try to remember to give myself some grace too.
Maybe I should get my own emotional support snake.
Small victories 🏅
We are officially halfway through 2025 – how did that happen?! It’s been a wild six months for so many of us. Cheers, now go find some time to celebrate!
Hot mess recs 🔥
I was looking at my bookshelf and reminded that I still need to read Good Inside: A Guide to Becoming the Parent You Want to Be by Dr. Becky Kennedy. It’s been recommended to me by many others. While I haven’t (yet) read it, I do follow Dr. Becky on Instagram and appreciate how she prioritizes “connecting with our kids over correcting them.” She also has a weekly podcast.
A show that recently popped up on Jess’s radar is The Four Seasons, a sort of dark comedy based on a 1981 film of the same name. The show follows three married couples on their quarterly weekend getaways, with the main drama happening when one of the three pairs splits up. It got Jess laughing, gasping, and crying, and it’s got an awesome cast – Steve Carrell, Tina Fey, Coleman Domingo, and Will Forte are all in it. Plus, at eight episodes of about 30 minutes each, toddler parents can sneak it in during nap time.
At least where I am, it has been a HOT stretch of days. I always struggle to figure out what to eat that’s low effort and doesn’t require a ton of cooking. One of my go-to meals is this sheet-pan baked feta with broccolini, tomatoes, and lemon from the NYT (I’ve also swapped the broccolini for asparagus). Yes, it does require roasting, but after the initial cooking I mix it with orzo pasta and have it cold for a few days. So tasty.
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Wishing you happy summer vibes,
Sam