We had a whole collection of Dr. Seuss books when our kids were little. I read them so often, I could do it with my eyes shut. If you’ve ever fallen asleep while reading a bedtime story, or even a middle-of-the-morning story, you can empathize. 

The Cat in the Hat Comes Back was a favorite. It chronicles Sally and her brother’s second misadventure with the crazy feline. Near the climax, their yard is covered with pink snow, spread by the Cat in the Hat’s “assistants” Little Cats A to Z. Those two uptight kids are dismayed by the antics of these twenty-six imps, and yell at the Cat in the Hat to take them away. They don’t get a lot of sympathy from the Cat in the Hat:

But the big cat stood there

And he said, “This is good.

This is what they should do 

And I knew that they would.”

Believe it or not, those lines became something of a mantra for me as I raised my family. It all began with a Bad Day. I can’t remember why it was a Bad Day - probably something as mundane as PMS - but I woke up in the morning and knew, 

“Today is going to be hard.”

And I told myself hopefully:

“Maybe the kids will be extra good today.”

But they weren’t. In fact, they were worse than usual. 

Later, I was talking it over with a friend who had a little more experience in parenting than I did. She said, “When you are upset, your children sense your unhappiness and it makes them uneasy. When they feel uneasy, their behaviour gets worse. It’s just not reasonable to expect them to have a good day when you’re having a bad day. It’s more reasonable to expect the opposite.”

I had told myself, in effect, “My children should behave because I’m having a bad day.” But I was a veteran of cognitive therapy. I knew the dangers of any statement that included the word “should”: I was setting myself up for disappointment. It would be nice if they were quiet and even-tempered when I needed them to be. But it wasn’t likely to happen. Expecting it and not getting it just added a new measure of resentment to my already Bad Day. 

The next time I had a Bad Day, I didn’t think, “My kids should be well-behaved to help me out.”

Instead, I took a step back, watched their antics, and recited, 

This is what they should do 

and I knew that they would.

It didn’t exactly make things easier. But it’s always empowering to face reality. You take stock of the situation as it really is, downgrade your expectations, do what you can to mitigate the damage and get through it. You don’t blame your children for being children.

When my Bad Days expanded into a train of Bad Months and Bad Years - during my miscarriages - it hurt my children. They became more unruly; their anxieties festered. To some degree, they lost their mother when she lost her babies. That undeniable fact is my deepest regret about that period of my life, the one thing that makes me question, “Was I right to keep trying for a baby after I lost Loila?” I still don’t have an answer to that question. My grief (and their own grief) hurt my kids, but it also made them more empathetic, and (I hope) more resilient.

With a few shining exceptions, they did “what they should do” as “I knew that they would” during those years. It certainly didn’t make any of it easier, but it wasn’t their fault. If I could go back and give my old self advice, it would be simple: “Understand that they are hurting too. Prioritize your children’s needs over pretty much everything but your own needs. Rely on family and friends to help. Know that this adversity will not last forever.”

And don’t sweat the small stuff! Pink snow might be a refreshing change after months of white.