Quiet Confessions, Episode 17: Surviving the Meltdowns

Parenting toddlers isn’t for the faint of heart. In this week’s Quiet Confessions, Chelsea shares a brutally honest look at surviving a morning of total toddler chaos after her three-year-old’s 4 a.m. wake-up call. From trying every trick in the toolbox to realizing that sometimes nothing works, this episode is for every parent who’s been tested by meltdowns, exhaustion, and the relentlessness of life with little ones.

Chelsea reflects on the difference between supporting emotional regulation as a teacher and trying to do the same with your own child, the importance of boundaries, and the truth that sometimes the bravest thing parents can do is just survive the day.

🔑 Key Takeaways

• Parenting toddlers is relentless. 
  • Even with experience as an educator, nothing prepares you for your own child’s meltdowns.
    
    
• Sometimes nothing works.
  • Baths, fresh air, meditation, rocking — some days no trick calms a dysregulated toddler.
    
    
• Boundaries matter. 
  • Holding firm while protecting your own mental health is essential.
    
    
• Parenting is survival. 
  • On the hardest days, surviving is the bravest thing you can do.
    
    
• You’re not failing. 
  • Toddler chaos doesn’t mean you’re a bad parent — it means you’re human, and so are they.
    
    
• Partnership helps. 
  • Trading off with a co-parent, communicating, and tag-teaming can keep everyone afloat.

🎧 Soundbites

• “It’s like living with a tiny Tasmanian devil who somehow found energy drinks in a house where no one drinks caffeine.”
  
  
• “On paper, I should be a pro at emotional regulation. In reality? Parenting my own toddler is a whole new ball game.”
  
  
• “Some days, nothing works. Not the bath, not fresh air, not meditation. Nothing.”
  
  
• “It doesn’t mean you’re failing. It just means your toddler is human — and so are you.”
  
  
• “Sometimes the bravest thing we can do as parents is just survive the day.”

Transcript

Chelsea Myers (00:04)
Hey, welcome to another quiet confession. And if I sound tired, it's because I am. I am really, really, really tired. My three year old Avery woke up at four o'clock this morning and from that moment on, she has been ⁓ spirited? No, no.

We're gonna call it what it is. She has been a total toddler meltdown champion. The whining, the crying, screaming, unsafe body, chaos. It's like living with a tiny Tasmanian devil who somehow found a stash of energy drinks in a house where no one drinks caffeine. I don't want to talk about it.

not because I have answers or tips or tricks, but because this is a part of parenting that doesn't get enough honest airtime. It's hard. It's exhausting. And it makes you or me feel like you're about to skyrocket through the roof. And I feel like we're told, stop complaining. You wanted kids. Well, guess what?

It's hard and I'm going to talk about it. ⁓ Okay, so here's the picture. Avery and Lily both woke up at 4 a.m. after having a sister sleepover, which has become something they like to do this summer. My partner and I barely slept and by the time the sun was up, Avery was already off the freaking rails.

She's tripping over nothing, banging into everything, climbing on us one second and then screaming at us not to look at her the next. Ugh, it's like her nervous system is a fire alarm that won't shut off. Go back to my episode about not being able to watch Friends, but this is giving serious Phoebe and the broken smoke detector energy.

We've tried everything. The put the baby in the bath trick or take them outside for fresh air. We've put on calming music. We did some Sesame Street meditations. We rocked in the rocking chair, just trying to hold her. We even tried ignoring the behavior, hoping she'd just wear herself out. None of it is working. Not one single thing. Our toolbox is empty.

Our gas tanks are empty and it's only nine o'clock in the morning. I keep telling myself she's three, she's a toddler, her emotional regulation skills are basically non-existent. She's learning, she's tired, she's overwhelmed and she's not doing this to me. And I do believe that, but it does not make any of this any easier.

Before I was a parent, I worked in special education. I taught for many, many years. And before that, I was an infant and toddler teacher. And ironically enough, my biggest area of strength was emotional regulation and teaching emotional awareness. So you'd think on paper, I'd be a pro at this. That maybe I'd have like,

the magic to navigate meltdowns and dysregulation like a calm, wise, child whisperer. I don't know. But the truth is it is an entirely new ball game when it is your own kid. There's no clocking out at the end of the day, no handing them back to a parent at pickup, no built-in break. When it's your child, you are sleep deprived.

and you can't find the off switch to the chaos. It just hits different. It's personal. It's relentless. And it tests every ounce of your patience and self-regulation. And that goes for working parents, stay-at-home parents, work-from-home parents, whatever your situation is. It is hard. Period. End of sentence.

So what do you do when nothing works?

Honestly, you survive. You survive. My husband and I are not giving into her demands or unkind behavior. We're holding boundaries, but we're also trying to protect our own mental health because if we don't, everyone in this house is going down with the ship. Today, that has looked like kind of switching off with each other.

So we're taking turns playing to our strengths, communicating like pros so that one of us can step back before we both totally lose it. We are also clinging to the hope, the desperate, desperate hope that nap time will come because everybody in this house needs one today. It is not graceful. It is not pretty.

but it is real. And the thing is, I know we're not alone in this. Every parent has had days like this, probably lots and lots of days like this, where your kid is just a disaster and nothing helps. It doesn't mean you're failing. It doesn't mean your child is malfunctioning. It just means

They're human and they're learning how to handle big feelings with a brain that isn't wired for regulation right now. And I mean, we're human too. We get mad, we get exhausted. We're always exhausted. We feel like giving up or at least I do sometimes and that doesn't make us bad parents. It just makes us parents.

If you're in this season to feeling like you're drowning under toddler meltdowns, running on no sleep, wondering how you're going to make it through the day. I see you. I am you. You are not failing. You are surviving. I am not failing. I am trying to survive. And sometimes that is the best and bravest thing that we can do.

Now, if you'll excuse me, I am going to pray to the nap gods and go refill my water bottle. Thanks for being here with me. I'll be back next week. Hopefully a little more rested.