“Ugh, gross.” I pulled a squishy, brown banana from my son’s backpack. Like many of the healthy lunch options I prepare, this one took a trip to school, only to come back bruised and untouched.
For a moment, I just stood there, staring at the banana. Sleep deprivation hit me hard: “I get it, buddy. We started the day with optimism, but things have taken a turn, and now we’re feeling a bit battered.”
Joking with a piece of fruit aside, today was one of those challenging days for a mom. We’re two months into my son Noah’s first “normal” school year as a first grader, and he’s clearly having a tough time. He doesn’t share much, only hinting at friendships fading and new classmates not wanting to play with him.
But his actions tell a different story. He’s irritable, defiant, and sometimes withdrawn. Lately, I’ve noticed an increase in slammed doors, eye rolls, and tears, and it feels like he’s upset with me for not shielding him from the anxiety that comes with re-entering the world. It’s tough being a kid in this post-pandemic era, and at times, I wonder if it’s even harder being a parent. I’m losing sleep worrying about my son’s mental health (hence my conversation with a piece of fruit).
Today, his teacher reached out because there have been some incidents indicating that he’s facing social-emotional challenges. I know we can’t foresee everything our kids will encounter, but I didn’t expect this. Despite all the discussions and research about how the pandemic has affected children’s social skills, I mistakenly thought my son would be fine.
And yet, here we are, and my heart aches for him.
These are the moments when I have to resist the urge to scoop him up and promise him that I’m the only friend he needs. I remind myself that we’ve entered a phase requiring more than just a trip for ice cream after school.
This might be our first significant challenge, and it’s a big one. Some might say these issues will resolve themselves, but I understand firsthand that childhood anxiety is very real, and I won’t leave him to navigate this alone. He deserves to experience the joyful blend of resilience and carefree spirit that makes childhood so special. Here’s my approach…
Listen — while keeping it casual.
My little guy tends to bottle up his feelings, so a simple “how was school today?” doesn’t yield the response I hope for. However, I’ve discovered that there are golden moments—during bedtime, car rides, and random pauses in the day—when he inadvertently opens up. If I show too much concern or surprise, he clams up, so I make it a point to remain cool while giving him my full attention until he suddenly shifts the topic back to LEGOs or Minecraft.
Avoid the urge to rush back to normal.
I often feel a nagging pressure to catch up with other kids or close some social gaps. As parents, we’re fixers, but this situation is delicate, especially during these unprecedented times. Noah completed kindergarten on a tablet; he doesn’t know what “normal” is. He just knows that something feels wrong. While it’s disheartening to see his classmates playing together effortlessly, I keep my focus on the ultimate goal: helping him feel loved and accepted just as he is. At that point, I’ll consider him “caught up.”
Discuss emotions.
Big sigh. Deep eye roll… I can write about my feelings endlessly, but discussing them is exhausting. Now, I have a son who needs practice in identifying and managing emotions, so it’s time to step up and model healthy behavior. I share simple stories of when I felt disappointed or didn’t get my desired outcome, how that made me feel, and what I did in response. Honestly, it may seem like he’s not listening, but I hope he’s absorbing more than he shows, so I keep going.
Utilize social-emotional resources at school.
Fortunately, things have changed since my childhood, and academics aren’t the sole focus in elementary education anymore. Schools now have programs designed to help students build resilience and social skills post-pandemic. I’m grateful that creating a sense of connection, safety, and security is prioritized over academics.
Embrace “scaffold parenting.”
In my quest for answers, I discovered an inspiring concept called scaffold parenting. Here, the child is the “building,” and parents are the scaffolding, providing guidance and protection as the child grows. This means accepting that I can’t shield him from social rejection, bullying, or anxiety. Noah needs to spread his wings, make mistakes, and face challenges as he re-engages with the world. What I can do is build a loving framework around him to help him grow into a resilient, confident, and happy individual.
Everyone requires social connection at every stage of life, and it’s understandable that young children, who are just beginning to learn basic social skills, are struggling after a year of isolation. For every two steps forward, it often feels like we take one step back. Such is the journey of parenting. This too shall pass, and my response to Noah’s challenges is simply an opportunity to model resilience. In the meantime, I’ll keep chatting with fruit.
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