The Truth Shall Set You Free

We're knee-deep in a 5-year-old's regression phase. Suddenly, she's forgotten how to bathe and brush her teeth. And now, since the baby gets rocked to sleep, big sis demands her own nightly rocking concert.

This is tough on me, but I don't want to go all drill sergeant on my daughter. I get it—she sees the baby getting the VIP treatment because he's a toothpaste-challenged, dinner-table klutz. She doesn't remember when she was the star of the "extra attention" show at his age.

At the baby's 18-month checkup, the doc and I discussed toddler regression. The baby was having a meltdown over his new daycare class, exhibiting all the anxiety-fueled emotions. We talked about easing his anxiety and what to do if he didn't chill out. I asked if the same could apply to his sister, and the doc nodded. We chatted about her behavior changes and anxieties. It took me a while to connect the dots and understand that my girl was having anxiety (I'm not always the sharpest tool in the shed!).

A couple of weeks ago, we did the kindergarten registration dance. She got a sneak peek of her new school and met one of the kindergarten teachers. We've been on a shopping spree for new school clothes (I love a good deal!). We've discussed the new backpack, lunch box, and water cup. So many changes! Her fallback plan? Reverting to baby mode.

In the wise words of G.I. Joe, "knowing is half the battle." Now that I see my girl is dealing with anxiety, I can tackle her behavior differently. Even the doc advised that if things get too wild, I might have to put my foot down on her "baby" demands.

Recognizing the signs helped me realize that my daughter's anxiety could lead to some creative behavior. She spun an interesting lie on Friday night and stuck to it on Saturday. As I was sitting in the living room on Friday night, I heard a loud thump upstairs. A few minutes later she appeared with a bloody toe, and I feared it might need stitches. When I asked what happened, she gave me the soft (aka lying) voice, averted her eyes, and said she didn't know. I suggested she might have been bed-jumping and fell, and she clung to that story. Twenty minutes later, a band-aid, some Neosporin, and a blood-cleaning marathon later to scrub on every carpeted spot her foot had touched, and she was back in bed.

My husband was out with friends and missed the show, so I filled him in via text. I still had no clue what had happened besides her falling. The next day, she casually mentioned finding her iPad at the top of the closet. As this was a clue I missed (I told you I'm not always the sharpest!), the mystery of the toe injury remained unsolved.

What followed next on that Saturday was quite a spectacle. We had a day of epic meltdowns, one after another. It wasn't until she couldn't eat dinner that my husband pulled her aside and cracked the case. His method? He told her we have cameras all over the house and he'd just watch the video of the fall so we could know exactly what happened (we do not have cameras in the house)!

My girl sang like a canary upon hearing that her parents could watch the accident unfold. She confessed she had attempted a daring iPad retrieval mission using a clothes basket and step stool. She didn't ask me for help because it was past bedtime, and she knew I'd say no. Her acrobatics ended in a fall. The assumption for my husband and me is her toe got caught in one of the holes on the side of the laundry basket and that's where the cut came from. Interesting enough the crime scene had been cleared of evidence the night the injury happened. She managed this before coming downstairs to find me.

After her confession, her mood did a 180. The guilt feeling she had for lying had been dragging her down. Once she was honest, she was back to her cheerful self, no more meltdowns.

Thinking about her behavior, I recognize the trait—it's genetic! I can't handle guilt or lying either. If I've done something, I confess immediately. I can't lie without feeling sick to my stomach. I learned this about myself during my tween years and I've always put my truth out there.

Seeing my girl react to guilt like I do is a relief. Honesty is my top virtue (My husband is aware I'm not a fan of his "lying" tactics, but it did help us find out what happened, which is his argument).

I want my kids to be honest and open with me. To make that happen though, I've also realized I need to adjust my reactions. My mom always told us kids when we were teenagers and out somewhere and we needed help, that she’d pick us up, no questions asked. We knew questions would come the next day, but she wanted us to trust that she would help us.

I want my kids to share everything with me. I don't want to be a helicopter parent, but I want them to know I'm always in their corner. But this means I have to tweak my reactions. Unfortunately, my face shows my truth too.

Heaven help me! At 41, I'm still a work in progress! Thankfully, the truth shall set me free, and I'll own up to it daily to be there for my kids' emotional well-being.

--Amber