Holding space for our kids’ big emotions

Holding space for big emotions is hard.

I heard Janet Lansbury interviewed recently and she said…

‘Allowing a child to be mad at us, or upset, frustrated, sad, any emotion a child shares with us is the most quality connection that we can have with them. This is because it’s based on trust. It’s based on, ‘I’m not afraid of you sharing all sides of yourself,’ and ‘You have a right to feel however you feel.’ It’s the most positive thing! It’s also the biggest challenge we have as parents.’

My kids fight and emotions can rage. Here’s how that went down one day…

One loses a board game – gets angry and starts seemingly playfully wrestling with the other. I can see it. She’s laughing, but it’s not playful. She’s mad. As it gets rougher, I step in.

‘I see two kids that are mad enough to hurt each other. It’s time to separate.’ 

I get down on the floor with them, physically separating them. One child knows this drill, acquiesces, and walks away. I’m left with the one who’s still roiling with anger. She turns her full force kicks and punches to me.

‘I won’t let you kick me. I see that you’re mad.’

Inside I’m uncomfortable, wanting to escape from the dangerous unpredictability and physicality of anger.

Outside I’m focused and calm because I’ve practiced it over the years. 

‘Here’s a pillow you can kick.’

When she throws the pillow at me, I place it on the floor. It still feels robotic to meet her chaos with this calm.

‘You’re so angry! It’s hard to loose a game,’ I say.

I grunt and punch my fists into the pillow, giving her an invitation to direct the anger toward the pillow too. 

She comes toward me hitting. I gently deflect her hands and repeat, 

‘I won’t let you hit me. Here’s a pillow.’ 

Eventually she stomps off to her room saying she needs space. 

I take a deep sigh and my body melts into a child’s pose (basically rolled up in a ball on the floor). That wasn’t planned, it just felt right.

After years of practicing holding space for my children’s big emotions, I’m more used to it, I know how to do it, but it still feels exhausting. 

After a few minutes I knock on her door and offer a hug. When I hear a grumpy, ‘No!’.

I say, ‘OK, maybe later. I’ll be out here.’

I tidy up the kitchen. I feel…down, drained. After a few more minutes my kiddo joins me in the kitchen asking for a hug and wants to tell me about an exciting new lego creation she just built.

She’s moved her anger through her body. Her storm has passed.

I revel in how resilient she is.