早上六点多起床，七点半到学校。
三点四十五准时下班，去接娃。
接着一路开去 Costco，想着把接下来两周的伙食一次性解决。
没想到，一待就是两个小时。
回到家，开始进入“流水线模式”：
分类肉，
做酱牛肉，
卤鸡蛋，
卤鸡爪，
泡爪，
把厚重的五块牛排切成十块，
最费力的，是把两大块牛肉切成二十份分装。
等全部处理完，已经九点半。整整在厨房动手动脑了三个小时没停过。
洗完碗，把厨房恢复原状，九点四十分了。
那一刻，脑子像被榨干了一样。
我心里只有一个念头：
太累了。
偏偏就是这个时候，
娃儿走过来找我说话。
我很清楚，
我已经没有能力去“好好回应”了。
但我也不想敷衍他。
于是我说了一句：
“阿学，你能不能先不要跟我说话。”
可能我没有意识到，
我的声音已经变大了。
他被吓到了。
我马上补了一句：
“我的头脑现在没办法同时处理太多事。
你先去做点别的吧，我们先不要说话。
不是你的问题，是我太累了。”
他没说话，
默默走进房间，开始看书。
过了一会儿，他又出来了。
他说：
“我不喜欢太大声的声音。”
然后又补了一句：
“我只能听大声的音乐，而不是其他大声的东西。”
他没有指责我。
但他在表达。
我知道，我刚刚伤到他了。
我把他抱住，说：
“对不起，是妈妈的问题，不是你的错。
是我太累了，脑子处理不了那么多东西。
不是我不想听你说话，是我没办法认真听。
一旦我没办法认真听，我就会开始生自己的气。”
他听完后，没有继续沉浸在自己的情绪里。
他转身拿了一瓶水递给我：
“你喝点水吗？我帮你打开。”
那一刻，我心里一紧。
“谢谢你孩子，你太爱妈妈了。”
洗漱的时候，他在房间喊我：
“妈妈。”
“你等等，我快好了。”
我知道，他在等我陪他玩。
他说：
“你慢慢来，我不会责备你的。”
“你慢慢来，我不会催你的。”
后来他又说：
“妈妈，我想上厕所。”
我说：“你等一下，我马上来。”
他还是那句：
“没事，你慢慢来。”
那一刻，我突然意识到一件事。
他在压自己。
为了让我轻松一点，
他把自己的需求往后放。
我赶紧对他说：
“上厕所很急的时候，是要说出来的，
不能一直告诉别人‘慢慢来’，知道吗？”
他看着我，没有反驳。
算是听进去了。
那天晚上，他说了很多平时不太会说的话：
“妈妈，你不要介意我把水弄到马桶盖上，那是干净的水。”
（他在说：我不是在给你添麻烦）
“妈妈，不要介意我，我有点急，想上厕所了。你慢慢来，不着急。”
（他在说：我希望你是好的）
我躺在床上，忍不住说：
“累扁我了，我想一直这样躺着。”
他在厕所里，居然还在回应我：
“好！”
睡前，我又认真跟他道了一次歉。
我说：
“妈妈今天真的太累了，不是不喜欢你，不是不想听你说话。”
他突然说了一句：
“我知道了。爸爸去年很经常看起来不高兴，
但他不是真的生气，他是在厨房太累了。就他一个人做菜和做其他事情。”
我愣住了。
原来，在我还在担心
“我的情绪会不会影响他”的时候，
他已经在——
观察，
分析，
理解，
甚至在为他人找原因。
他说：
“他不是生气，他只是太累了，需要别人帮忙。”
我赶紧接了一句：
“那下次，我们一起帮爸爸做事情。”
他说：“好。”
那一刻我突然明白：
孩子不是在被我们教，
他是在看我们怎么活。
我们以为自己在“控制情绪”，
他却在学“理解情绪”。
我们以为自己在“道歉”，
他却在学“如何爱人”。
但那天晚上，我也看见了另一件更严重的事：
他开始不知不觉地，
为了别人好，
压住自己。
所以我也在提醒他：
爱别人之前，
要先听见自己。
急的时候，要说急。
难受的时候，要说难受。
需要的时候，要说需要。
这不是自私。
这是一个人，
不把自己弄丢的开始。
婷妈的亲子日常 创作于 2026.04.03
原创发布： tingtingma.com
写给孩子，也写给正在成长的大人。
未经授权，请勿转载。
Tingma’s Parenting Diary | 224. Loving Others and Protecting Yourself
I woke up a little after 6 a.m. and got to school by 7:30.
I finished work right on time at 3:45 and went to pick up my child.
Then we drove straight to Costco, planning to take care of the next two weeks’ groceries all at once.
I didn’t expect to stay there for two hours.
After getting home, I went straight into “assembly-line mode”:
Sorting the meat,
making soy-braised beef,
braised eggs,
braised chicken feet,
marinated chicken feet,
cutting five thick steaks into ten portions,
and the most exhausting part—cutting two large pieces of beef into twenty separate portions.
By the time everything was done, it was already 9:30.
I had been working non-stop in the kitchen—both physically and mentally—for three straight hours.
After washing the dishes and restoring the kitchen, it was 9:40.
At that moment, my brain felt completely drained.
There was only one thought in my mind:
I’m exhausted.
And of course, right at that moment,
my child came over to talk to me.
I knew very clearly
that I no longer had the capacity to respond well.
But I also didn’t want to brush him off.
So I said:
“Axue, can you not talk to me for a moment?”
I didn’t realize it,
but my voice had gotten louder.
He was startled.
I quickly added:
“My brain can’t handle too many things at once right now.
Can you go do something else first? Let’s not talk for a bit.
It’s not your fault—I’m just too tired.”
He didn’t say anything.
He quietly went into his room and started reading.
After a while, he came out again.
He said:
“I don’t like loud voices.”
Then added:
“I can only listen to loud music, not other loud things.”
He didn’t blame me.
But he was expressing himself.
I knew I had hurt him.
I hugged him and said:
“I’m sorry. This is Mommy’s problem, not yours.
I’m just too tired—my brain can’t process that much right now.
It’s not that I don’t want to listen to you.
It’s that I can’t listen carefully.
And when I can’t listen properly, I start getting frustrated with myself.”
After hearing that, he didn’t stay stuck in his emotions.
He turned around, grabbed a bottle of water, and handed it to me:
“Do you want some water? I can open it for you.”
At that moment, something tightened in my chest.
“Thank you, my child. You love Mommy so much.”
While I was getting ready for bed, he called out from his room:
“Mom.”
“Wait a second, I’m almost done.”
I knew he was waiting for me to play with him.
He said:
“Take your time. I won’t blame you.”
“Take your time. I won’t rush you.”
Later, he said:
“Mom, I need to use the bathroom.”
I replied, “Wait a second, I’ll be right there.”
And again, he said:
“It’s okay. Take your time.”
At that moment, I suddenly realized something.
He was suppressing himself.
To make things easier for me,
he was putting his own needs aside.
I quickly told him:
“When you really need to go to the bathroom,
you should say it.
You can’t always tell others ‘take your time,’ okay?”
He looked at me and didn’t argue.
He heard me.
That night, he said many things he doesn’t usually say:
“Mom, don’t mind me getting water on the toilet seat—it’s clean water.”
(What he meant was: I’m not causing trouble for you.)
“Mom, don’t mind me. I’m a little urgent—I need to use the bathroom. You take your time.”
(What he meant was: I want you to be okay.)
Lying in bed, I couldn’t help but say:
“I’m so exhausted. I just want to lie here like this forever.”
From the bathroom, he still responded:
“Okay!”
Before going to sleep, I apologized to him again.
I said:
“Mommy was just really, really tired today.
It’s not that I don’t like you or don’t want to listen to you.”
Then he suddenly said:
“I understand. Last year, Dad often looked unhappy,
but he wasn’t really angry.
He was just too tired in the kitchen, doing everything by himself.”
I froze.
While I was still worrying about
whether my emotions would affect him,
he was already—
observing,
analyzing,
understanding,
even finding reasons for others.
He said:
“He wasn’t angry.
He was just tired and needed help.”
I quickly replied:
“Then next time, we’ll help Dad together.”
He said, “Okay.”
At that moment, I suddenly understood:
Children are not just being taught by us.
They are watching how we live.
We think we are “managing our emotions,”
but he is learning to understand emotions.
We think we are “apologizing,”
but he is learning how to love others.
But that night, I also saw something even more serious:
Without even realizing it,
he had started—
to suppress himself
for the sake of others.
So I reminded him:
Before loving others,
you must first hear yourself.
When you feel urgent, say it.
When you feel uncomfortable, say it.
When you need something, say it.
This is not selfishness.
This is the beginning
of not losing yourself.
Tingma’s Parenting Diary
Written on April 03, 2026
Originally published at: tingtingma.com
Written for my child, and for the adults who are still growing.
Unauthorized reproduction is prohibited.
Originally written in Chinese by the author.
This English version was translated with the assistance of ChatGPT.