Okay. They aren’t a nightmare.
On the contrary, they are almost entirely adorable, funny, creative, affectionate, and sweet. And yet—sometimes—any kid can feel sociopathic. Or at least… wildly confusing.
What am I supposed to do in the moment when they are repeatedly doing things that my less-wise younger self would have flagged as disrespectful, annoying, rude, boundaryless, or deserving of a sharp “Hey—knock it off”?
What am I supposed to do when I feel the urge to snap?
My gut reaction is to lecture and explain. How successful is my track record for lecturing and explaining during difficult conversations with anyone? Um, not a whole lot.
Should I teach them how the real world works?
And what does it mean when I see my lover—their mother—remain frequently calm, patient, and compassionate in moments where my nervous system quietly lights up and I get the urge to lean in and talk about how the behavior is ‘bad’ and might need correction for them to have healthy relationships some day?
How do I even know if my requests are reasonable for two kids coming rapidly approaching those teenage years where thought and intellect deepens and our emotional regulation skills (or lack there of) drastically affects where we start heading in our lives?
And, what on earth do I know about parenting when all I’ve got is a cantankerous, curmudgeonly old cat?
I love her kids. I know that; I feel that. So, how can I show up in ways that most empowers them?
A Different Kind of Parenting
My lover is a therapist. Moreover, she is deeply committed to understanding why behavior happens—not just how to stop it.
Her work spans multiple therapeutic modalities, but they fundamentally orbit the same core question:
“Do I feel safe right now?”
Not: Is this child misbehaving?
Not: How do I correct this?
But: What does this behavior tell me about the child’s internal experience?
When someone doesn’t feel safe—child or adult—they act differently. They seek attention. They disrupt. They push boundaries. They demand connection in ways that are clumsy, intrusive, or inconvenient.
Kids haven’t even been given the chance yet to learn emotional coping skills. Some adults, tragically, never do—resulting in lives shaped by blame, entitlement, resentment, and a deep sense that the world is always against them.
That is arrested development.
She is intentionally trying to parent in a way that minimizes the chances that her kids grow into adults who never learned how to feel safe inside themselves.
Why Do Kids Do Things That Seem… Obviously Disruptive?
Here’s a concrete example.
Sometimes the kids wake us up in the morning. I’m not a parent. I’m sleeping next to a deeply attentive and emotionally well-regulated mom. That gives me a front-row seat to questions I never expected to be asking.
- If there’s a nightmare?
- A bed-wetting incident?
- A crisis?
Sure. I get that.
But why does the eight-year-old sometimes walk into the room while I’m taking a nap alone and start yelling my name until I wake up?
“John! John! John!”
No emergency. No problem. Just… a need, I guess?
In my earlier life, I would have barked something like:“Dude, why? What’s the deal? I’m clearly sleeping! Why are you yelling? Does it not matter to you that an adult is sleeping?”
But, I don’t raise my voice anymore. That’s no longer how I respond by default to feeling disturbed. My personal mental health work has softened me to a less impulsive way to react. But, that’s a different conversation for another time.
I have the privilege in my life right now to see how my lover responds to these kinds of situations, and it is deepening my understanding on how behavior roots in feelings around safety. It’s a joy to have a front row seat to a parent upholding values and exampling behavior that reinforce the mental health challenges and changes I have been so focused on exploring in my own psyche.
Dropping the Label
One thing that initially confused me: she avoids labeling behavior.
At first, I thought this was just about avoiding judgment. Don’t call behavior bad because bad is subjective. And, hey, I’m already on the path to stripping away judgement as a default mode to interact with the world while choosing curiosity instead.
So, sure, while behavior can be viewed as bad, that’s a fairly limiting world view because… well, where do you go from there? Shame? Guilt?
If a behavior exists, it exists for a reason.
Kids—and adults—don’t do things “for no reason.” They do things because, somewhere in their history, that behavior helped them feel maybe safer, or maybe more connected, or maybe less alone.
When you stop labeling behavior as “bad” or “wrong,” you create space to ask a better question:
“What is this behavior trying to solve?”
Attachment Theory (The Part I Had to Learn)
This is where my ignorance showed up. I didn’t know what attachment theory was, or how it would seemingly magically help a kid develop social skills that won’t annoy their contemporaries, family, friends, and strangers.
Attachment theory, in its simplest form, says this:
Early relationships teach us whether the world is safe, whether others are reliable, and whether our needs will be met without having to fight for them.
Children develop attachment strategies based on their experiences:
- Secure attachment:
“When I’m distressed, someone responds. I can explore and return safely.” - Anxious attachment:
“Connection is unpredictable. I need to amplify my signals.” - Avoidant attachment:
“Needing others isn’t safe. I should rely only on myself.” - Disorganized attachment:
“The people I need are also scary or unavailable.”
When a child interrupts sleep, invades space, or demands attention in a way that feels unnecessary—it’s often an attachment bid.
Not manipulation. Not disrespect.
It’s just connection-seeking.
And if the adult responds with shame, punishment, or anger, the child learns a dangerous lesson:
“My needs make me a problem.”
That lesson doesn’t disappear. It grows up.
Safety, Not Compliance
There were moments in all of our lives where we felt unsafe. Moments that taught us how to cope.
Some of those coping mechanisms serve us. Many quietly sabotage our relationships for decades.
When people feel unsafe, they lash out. They act impulsively. They do things they later regret. Too often, those moments alter the trajectory of an entire life.
My lover is trying to interrupt that chain early.
She’s not trying to raise compliant kids. She’s trying to raise secure humans.
Correction vs. Reflection: The Hardest Line to Walk
Neither of us believes in snapping, barking, or humiliating. That’s not what life—or love—is about for us. However, it doesn’t mean “anything goes.”
The hardest question I’m navigating (and exploring with my lover) is this:
When do you address a behavior in the moment—and when do you wait?
It’s not an easy question for me. And, it wasn’t an easy question when I posed it and asked for examples in the past or examples in the future that will help me build a database of knowledge to inform my intuition on when to correct vs when to show unconditional love and revisit with the person at an appropriate time when we’re both in a space to understand each other better.
- In the moment:
If safety or physical boundaries are involved, you intervene calmly and briefly. No lecture. No emotional dumping. - Later, when regulated:
You explore the behavior. You name what happened. You connect it to feelings and needs. You model accountability without shame.
Leading by example doesn’t mean never correcting; it means correcting without disconnecting.
It means showing that boundaries and kindness can coexist.
And learning how to do that—especially when you’re tired, triggered, or touched out—is one of the hardest parts of being human.
What These Kids Are Teaching Me
Loving someone with kids has forced me to confront my own reflexes.
My urge to teach.
To correct.
To impose “how the world works.”
But the truth is: the world doesn’t need more people who learned obedience before safety.
It needs people who learned how to regulate, repair, and stay connected when things get hard.
Watching my lover parent has shown me that growth doesn’t come from fear.
It comes from safety.
And sometimes, the work isn’t changing the kids at all.
Sometimes, it’s changing me.
I have much to say about this but I’m still recuperating from my party! I’ll just say one simple thing ….patience is a decision. I’ll never forget the moment I realized this.