A couple weeks ago, we went to Ankur’s work holiday party. It was noted – on the invitation – that kids were welcome, so we figured we’d bring the entire fam and have a merry old time. 

“Merry” is not quite the adjective I’d use to describe that evening. 

I mean, unless “merry” means gulping down food – sans utensils – before you have to trail your 3-year old. Or if “merry” means, freaking out internally because how the hell is this person still trying to talk to me about where they grew up, don’t they see my child just ran up to the stage MID-SPEECH AND I CAN NO LONGER LINGER HERE AND SHOOT THE SHIT WITH YOU? 

Yeah, maybe a different adjective is more appropriate.

But that night did remind me of a couple things. 

Like, just because an invitation says kids are welcome, you don’t HAVE to bring your kids. 

Ha. But, seriously. 

In ping-ponging between the ballroom and the coat room and the bathroom and the room with the food, I was reminded that my 3-year old wasn’t being a little brat for shits and giggles. 

At one point, he had to use the bathroom. 

So I took him to the bathroom.

And, instead of hurrying back out to the ballroom where all the people and chatter and festivities were, he lingered in the stalls. 

He began playing with the door.

“Mama, I’m not ready. I’m just locking the locks.” 

I started to get frustrated. I mean, we could have been doing this at home. What was the point of us tagging along with Ankur if the two of us were going to be holed up in the bathroom? 

I almost spoke that frustration out loud. 

But then asked him if he wanted to go hang out in the quiet coat room for a bit. 

He immediately swung open the door and ran to the coat room. 

This, my friends, was not defiance. Or my 3-year old being stubborn or intentionally annoying. 

This was my 3-year old in an act of self-preservation. 

He was using the stalls as a way to avoid the crowd and the noise and the overwhelm. 

And when offered a quiet space to retreat to (instead of dragging him back to the noise), he complied immediately. 

It just took a moment for me to realize he wasn’t being a little shit. He was in a state of dysregulation and was really trying to find ways to bring his body the calm it needed. 

He does this often.

I notice it at the playground sometimes. 

He’ll be playing with a kid or two. But there will be times when it gets a little more crowded or a little more chaotic and he’ll retreat to play on his own. I used to wonder if he struggled socially. Now I just know that he recognizes when his body needs a little escape. 

It’s easy for me to charge on with my own agenda. Demand we return to the ballroom or engage with his peers. 

But if I just slow down, I can see that there’s a need. He is overstimulated, overwhelmed, and he doesn’t quite have the skills to say, “This is too much for me,” so it comes out in the form of running around the place or locking and unlocking the bathroom stall door on repeat.

I say this over and over and over again. 

My child teaches me so much. 

In these moments, I look at him and I’m in awe of his ability to do something that is really hard for me.

He is my favorite teacher and I love that I get to learn from him forever.