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As a parent to two little ones, I dread what many call the "witching hour," the time between 5 and 7 p.m. when my 2-year-old and 4-year-old hit a wall, and I crash land behind them. When I was a new parent, the meltdowns, demands, and emotional dysregulation of my babies used to force me to revert to babyhood myself. I'd also become tearful and distraught. I even started to develop noticeable anxiety leading up to that specific time of day.
That is until I began implementing a tried-and-true parenting hack in our evening routine: a change of scenery. Yes, when my kids reached toddlerhood and turned into puddles on the floor — made of tears and flaccid bodies — I decided to switch up our environment and head outside, hoping to ease the blow of that anxiety-inducing time of day.
We started our routine years ago, but after the disruptive summer schedule and a hurricane that made walking outdoors unsafe, our walks were put on pause for a time. I decided to re-commence our evening walks once power lines had been repaired and fallen trees removed, and as expected, there was some pushback from my preschoolers. The unwillingness to comply was a challenge. Simple acts of putting on shoes, jackets, and hats were akin to those of the trials and tribulations of a hero in a Greek myth.
But what I have found to be effective in decreasing both the length and intensity of their own emotional reactions is to speak about new habits as an exciting addition to our already-established routine.
When we return home from school pick-up, I allow my kids to watch one (or two, depending on how much time I need in the kitchen for dinner prep) episodes of a children's show. Once our meal is in the oven or turned to simmer, I announce, "It's time for our evening walk!" Then, I remind them that our evening walk is "what we do every day now, so that we can enjoy the last hour of sunshine before the moon rises and tells us that it's time to rest our bodies."
And now, as the temperatures drop and the sun sets earlier in the day, I make it a point to gear up my kids as early as possible. In the middle of the transition from indoors to outdoors, I say, "Remember, this is how we take care of our minds and our bodies."
And though we still have days where one or two or all of us are feeling out-of-sorts during the witching hour, I find our evening walk to be the spell we all need: the thing that breaks the curse and grants us the freedom to disconnect from the stresses of our day and reconnect with one another, our community, and our natural world.
During our stroll, I put my phone away. I allow my kids to choose the route, and I resist the urge to fill the air with my words. I listen. I hold their hands. I participate in their play. We say hello to our neighbors. My girls pass on treats — handed to them by other dog owners — to satisfy their furry children. We pay attention to the "treasures" that will undoubtedly appear along our path: colorful fall leaves, in-tact acorns, shiny rocks, or "really cool" tree branches.
By the time we've made our loop around the neighborhood and return home, we all feel much better. It's become the best part of my day and one I'm hellbent on practicing, even into the darkest winter months.
