“Yikes, that’s not good.” I pulled an overripe banana from my son’s backpack, the latest casualty of my attempts to provide healthy lunches. Like many of my carefully packed meals, this one had made the journey to school only to come back bruised and untouched.
I paused for a moment, staring at the banana, and in a moment of delirium from sleep deprivation, I thought, “I hear you, kiddo. We started the day with optimism, yet here we are, feeling battered and discouraged.”
Despite my humorous musings with produce, today has been a challenging parenting day. We’re two months into my son Lucas’s first “normal” year in first grade, and he’s clearly facing difficulties. He offers little information, only hinting at friendships fraying and new classmates not wanting to engage with him.
His behavior speaks volumes. He’s been irritable, disrespectful, and withdrawn. Recently, there has been an increase in slamming doors, eye rolls, and tears, and it seems like he’s upset with me for not shielding him from the anxiety that comes with re-entering society. It’s undoubtedly tough for kids in a post-pandemic world, but I often wonder if it’s even harder for parents. I’m losing sleep over my six-year-old’s mental health (hence, the conversation with a piece of fruit).
Today, his teacher reached out to discuss several incidents that imply his primary challenges are social-emotional. While I know we can’t foresee every hurdle our kids might face, this one caught me off guard. Despite all the research and discussions about how pandemic isolation has impacted children’s social skills, I had thought my son was somehow immune.
Now, here we are, and my heart is breaking for him.
These moments in parenting test my instinct to pick him up and promise that I’m the only friend he needs. I remind myself to resist the temptation to buy him toys that would only provide a fleeting distraction from his pain. I know we’ve entered a stage that requires a more thoughtful approach than just grabbing ice cream after school.
This may be our first significant challenge as a family, and it’s a tough one. Some might believe these issues will resolve themselves, but I know firsthand that childhood anxiety is very real, and I won’t let him struggle without support. He deserves the chance to experience the balance of resilience and joy that makes childhood so delightful. Here’s my strategy…
Listen — while keeping it casual, of course.
My little guy tends to keep his emotions close to the chest, so a casual “How was school today?” often yields little insight. I’ve found that there are golden moments—bedtime, car rides, or random quiet times—when he unexpectedly opens up. If I show any sign of worry or surprise, he quickly shuts down, so I work hard to maintain a relaxed demeanor while giving him my full attention for as long as possible… or until he suddenly diverts the conversation back to LEGOs or video games.
Avoid the urge to rush back to normal.
I have this persistent feeling that our goal should be to catch up with other kids or bridge some social gap. As moms, we often want to “fix” things, but this is a delicate situation occurring during unprecedented times. Lucas finished kindergarten on a tablet; he doesn’t know what “normal” is. He just knows something isn’t right. While it pains me to watch his classmates playing together effortlessly, I remind myself to focus on the ultimate goal: helping him feel loved and accepted just as he is. That’s when I’ll consider him “caught up.”
Discuss feelings.
It’s exhausting to discuss emotions, especially since I can write about them endlessly, yet I have a son who needs practice in recognizing and managing his own feelings. It’s time for me to step up and model healthy emotional behavior. I share simple examples of when I felt disappointed or didn’t get what I wanted, how it made me feel, and what steps I took in response. Honestly, it seems to fall on deaf ears, but I hope he’s absorbing more than he shows, so I keep at it.
Utilize social-emotional resources at school.
Fortunately, schools have evolved since I was a child, and the focus isn’t solely on academics anymore. There are programs designed to help students build resilience and social skills post-pandemic. I’m grateful that fostering a sense of connection, safety, and security is prioritized over academics.
Embrace “scaffold parenting.”
In my search for guidance, I discovered the concept of scaffold parenting. The metaphor suggests that the child is the “building,” and parents serve as the scaffolding that supports and protects them as they grow. This means accepting that I can’t simply bandage social rejection, bullying, or anxiety. Lucas needs the chance to spread his wings, learn from mistakes, and face hurt as he re-engages with the world. What I can do is create a loving framework around him, allowing him to evolve into a resilient, confident, and happy individual.
People of all ages need social connections, and it’s understandable that young children, who are just beginning to grasp basic social skills, would struggle after a year of isolation. Yet, for every two steps forward, we seem to take one step back. Such is the journey of parenting. This too shall pass, and how I respond to Lucas’s challenges is an opportunity to model resilience. In the meantime, I’ll keep talking to fruit.
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Summary:
As parents, watching our children navigate mental health challenges can be overwhelming. It’s crucial to listen, avoid rushing to fix things, engage in conversations about feelings, utilize school resources, and embrace a supportive parenting style. With patience and love, we can help our children thrive in a post-pandemic world.
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