No, I haven't lost it under the weight of the pandemic (yet).
But you read that right.
I've been sliding down the stairs in my house on my belly.
A full-grown woman*. With use of her legs. Sliding down the stairs backwards feet-and-butt-first.
What possessed me?
Our youngest, Pax, had mastered that amazingly fast toddler technique of sliding down our stairs on his belly. I'm not sure about the physics of it all, but he would turn around at the top, kneel on the first stair, then pump his little limbs and be at the base of the stairs in a flash.
One day, Pax decided he only wanted to be carried.
Though he was perfectly capable, he started to whimper whenever I didn't carry him downstairs. Sigh.
I asked. I pleaded. I ordered him to come down on the stairs on his own, but no luck.
With visions of carrying a heavy future 5-year old downstairs in my head, I took matters into my own hands.
Instead of picking him up when he whimpered, I got onto my own belly and took the stairs backward.
"Come on, Pax! Come on! Let's go down like this!"
With my adult frame awkwardly navigating the bumps, I modeled how to come downstairs.
And it worked.
My words were not enough.
He needed to SEE me do it.
What the heck does this have to do with self care?
Our actions speak louder than our words.
Find time and energy for yourself. My best secrets, straight to your inbox: