It’s morning. I made time for myself—a few sips of coffee, a deep breath, a moment of quiet—but before I know it, the chaos begins.

“Mom, I want pancakes!”
“Can I have french toast?”

Here we go. My kids want two different breakfasts.

Sounds minor, right? But I’ve set a boundary: I’m not running a restaurant. Not today, at least.

The real challenge isn’t their request. It’s the whining. The second my little one’s voice shifts into that high-pitched, drawn-out protest, something in me snaps. My brain scrambles to make it stop. My pulse quickens. My skin crawls. And deep down, I feel something even more unsettling—I feel completely out of control.

And when I dig a little deeper, I know exactly why.

Why Whining Feels Like a Trigger

This isn’t just about breakfast. It’s about boundaries. It’s about control. It’s about something much bigger than the meal on the table.

As a child, I was the “good girl.” The one who kept the peace, tiptoed around conflict, and did whatever it took to keep emotions stable—as if that was my job. Back then, controlling emotions (mine and others’) felt like survival.

Fast-forward to motherhood, and suddenly, I find myself trying to do the same thing with my own kids. Trying to manage their emotions. Trying to stop the meltdowns before they start. Trying to keep the peace at all costs.

But the truth is, motherhood doesn’t come with peace and quiet. It comes with big emotions, boundary-pushing, and moments that feel completely overwhelming.

So now, as I stand in my kitchen, faced with the choice between holding firm or giving in, my brain struggles to process two conflicting instincts:

1. Hold the boundary and risk an even bigger meltdown.
2. Give in and make the whining stop immediately.

Neither feels good in the moment. What I want to do is scream. I want to make it all go away.

But I don’t. Instead, I take a breath. (Yes, an actual deep breath. It’s not magic, but it helps.) And then? I walk away.Stepping Away Isn’t Giving Up—It’s Regulating

I retreat to my room, my emotions bubbling over. Tears well up. My body tenses. Why does something so small feel so big?

My husband sees me and instantly knows what’s happening. Honestly, he couldn’t miss it—I had a few choice words to describe my frustration. But after 20 years together, we’ve figured out how to handle these moments.

He doesn’t try to fix it. He doesn’t tell me to calm down. He just holds space. We sit together, and I let it out. The frustration. The exhaustion. The feeling of being completely overwhelmed.

This isn’t a new struggle or a groundbreaking realization. But that doesn’t make it any easier.

Why Boundaries Feel So Hard to Hold

When I finally calm down, I walk back out. One breakfast. That’s the rule today. That’s the boundary I set.

And yes, there’s whining. There’s protest. But guess what? It passes. Because my daughter knows this isn’t the first time I’ve held firm in a loving way. She knows I’m not here to control her emotions—I’m here to guide her through them.

But let’s be real. I don’t always get it right. Some days, I cave. I let exhaustion take over, and I give in just to keep the peace. And what happens? It backfires.

Every time I waver, every time I bend my boundary just to avoid the discomfort of whining, I send the message that persistence wins. That if they just push hard enough, I’ll fold.

And that? That’s a slippery slope.

The Takeaway: Boundaries Teach More Than Just Limits

Here’s what I remind myself on the hard days: Boundaries aren’t just about keeping structure in our home. They’re about teaching my kids how to handle disappointment, frustration, and not always getting what they want.

It’s not easy. It’s never going to be easy. But that’s okay. Because motherhood isn’t about perfection—it’s about progress.

And maybe, just maybe, I’m learning as much as they are.