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Parenting Through the Meltdowns: When You Can’t Access Calm, You Regroup and Try Again
The Look
I was at the mall recently and saw a mom with two toddlers in the play area. One child was melting down, screaming that he didn’t want to leave. The mom’s face was tight, her shoulders tense.
I knew that look. I’d been her.
The Mall Days
My sister and I used to take our kids to the mall play area all the time. My daughter and her two boys, each just one year apart in age. The worst meltdowns always seemed to happen in winter, when we were already juggling coats, purses, bags, and three little ones.
Inevitably, when it was time to leave, at least one of the three didn’t want to go. And if by some miracle we got out of the play area without tears, we immediately faced another obstacle: the ice cream stand parked right outside the gate. Of course they wanted ice cream. And of course they couldn’t always get it.
I remember one afternoon in particular. My daughter’s face was turning red, her fists clenched, screaming “NO NO NO” as shoppers turned to stare. “I want to play,” she cried. My sister was trying not to laugh as she helped her two boys into their coats.
My jaw clenched. It took everything I had. I knelt down to her level, my knees pressing into the cold tile floor. “I know, sweetheart. You’re having so much fun. It’s hard to leave when you’re having fun.”
She kept crying, but I stayed there, one hand on her back, letting her feel the feelings. People walked past. Some gave sympathetic looks. Others were clearly annoyed.
“It’s okay to be sad,” I said softly. “You can be sad and still put your coat on.”
It took another five minutes. Five minutes that felt like thirty. But eventually her crying softened. She let me help her into her coat, still sniffling.
That was a day I could access Calmness. I could feel my parts wanting to react, the embarrassed one aware of every stare, the frustrated one that just wanted to get to the car. But somehow Self was able to lead. I stayed on the floor with her. I let her feel it. And we got through it.
The Parking Lot
Other days? Not so much.
I remember one afternoon when my sister’s youngest refused to put his coat on, then kicked her when she tried to help, then screamed all the way through the mall. My sister’s jaw was clenched, her movements sharp and frustrated. I could see her parts rising to the surface. The embarrassed part replaying every judgmental stare. The exhausted part that just wanted this to be OVER.
I tried to help. I took her other son’s hand, carried bags, offered calm words. But inside, my own frustrated part was rising. Why won’t he just STOP?
By the time we got to the parking lot, we were both sweaty, shaky, and done. We stood by the car and just breathed. Then we looked at each other and laughed. The kind of laughter that’s half relief, half disbelief.
It took us both ten minutes to access our calmness again. And even then, it was shaky.
Here’s what I’ve learned about Calmness. It’s not a permanent state. It’s not something you achieve and then have forever. Some days you can access it. Some days your parts are too activated or too overwhelmed. And on those days, the work is recognizing where you are, listening to all of your parts, and then accessing your calmness.
“I’m Glad My Kid Doesn’t Act That Way”
My sister and I had a favorite line we’d say to each other after one of these episodes. Deadpan. Straight-faced.
“I’m glad my kid doesn’t act that way.”
Because of course, all toddlers do at one time or another.
We still say it. The stakes are just different now. Our kids are college aged. It’s not ice cream stands and coat refusals anymore. It’s car accidents and drinking and the kinds of choices that keep you up at night. The line still works. The humor still saves us.
And Calmness? We still practice accessing it. Sometimes we can’t. We still regroup.
What Calmness Actually Looks Like in Parenting
In IFS, Calmness is one of the 8 Cs of Self. It’s a quality we access when our parts step back enough for Self to lead. In parenting, that might look like kneeling on a cold tile floor while your kid screams, staying steady when everything in you wants to react.
But here’s what I want to be honest about: sometimes our parts aren’t ready or able to step back. They need to be heard. Sometimes the embarrassed part and the frustrated part are both present at once. And don’t forget the exhausted part that just wants this to be OVER. There’s no room for Self to lead. That doesn’t mean we’ve failed. It means we’re human.
What matters is what happens next. Do we recognize it and regroup? Do we come back to our kids with repair instead of perfection?
That parking lot moment taught me more about Calmness than any day I got it right.
A Reflection for Your Journey
Calmness doesn’t go anywhere. But sometimes parts need our attention and we can’t access it. Finding our way back is the real practice.
- When have you been able to stay calm for your child during a hard moment? What helped you access that?
- When did your own parts make it impossible to stay grounded? What were those parts trying to protect?
- How do you regroup when you can’t access your calmness? What does repair look like in your family?
This post is part of my monthly series exploring the 8 Cs of Internal Family Systems, a framework that shapes how I teach, write, and support healing. The 8 Cs are qualities described by Dr. Richard Schwartz, founder of the Internal Family Systems (IFS) model.
Through the Door: A Parent’s Guide to Co-Regulation
When toddlers melt down, their brains are overwhelmed. The part of their brain that feels and the part that reasons aren’t fully connected yet. Logic won’t reach them in that moment. What does reach them is your calm.
Co-regulation means showing your calmness to your child when they’re too overwhelmed. Our calmness helps them find theirs. A few places to start:
- Acknowledge the feelings instead of trying to stop them. “You’re having big feelings, and I’m here.” Validation helps kids feel seen, even when their world feels unsteady.
- Use physical comfort. A hug, holding them close, or rubbing their back tells them they’re safe.
- Try a sensory reset. Offer a cup of water with an ice cube. Take deep breaths together. Try the 5-4-3-2-1 grounding technique: five things to see, four to touch, three to hear, two to smell, one to taste.
- Stay steady even as the waves crash. Keep your tone soft, your presence grounded. This tells the child, “You’re safe. I can hold this with you.”
And remember: you won’t always get it right. That’s not failure. That’s parenting.