I was nine when Hurricane Hugo hit Charleston. We had just moved to James Island, a tiny island suburb of the city, the summer before from The Bronx so I had no reference point for a hurricane. My mom was originally from Plymouth, MA and so her experience of hurricanes was mostly a party on a very windy beach. My dad was out of town and was trying his best to get back to us.

I remember two things with crystal clarity.

The first is the dawning comprehension on my mom’s face that this was not going to be like all of those other storms, the ones she’d told me about to calm my fears. Seeing her begin to panic and pretend that she wasn’t is the first time I remember feeling totally unsafe.

The second memory is of a meltdown I had over crunchy peanut butter. It was a week after the storm, we still didn’t have power, and the insurance adjuster was walking around our house with my dad while my mom made me a peanut butter sandwich. Or, she tried to. We only had crunchy peanut butter and I would only eat creamy.

Now, you’d think that in the aftermath of a major crisis that had scared the absolute shit out of me I might have been a little more accommodating. You’d be wrong. I threw an epic fit, a tantrum worthy of any toddler. I don’t remember how she reacted, what I remember most is my anger at her and at my dad that they couldn’t just FIX IT.

I wanted them to turn the lights on, to somehow put all the downed trees back up, to set the world right and make everything make sense again. I wanted to feel safe.

Our kids have been living inside an emotional hurricane for months, now. And they know that we can’t fix it. The curtain has been yanked back, hard, and they see us for the pretend wizards we are. They want to feel safe.

And so your twelve-year-old may be suddenly demanding that you put on their pajamas for them. Your five-year-old may be having potty accidents. Your nine-year-old may have an epic temper tantrum over peanut butter.

It’s called regression and it’s frustrating as hell.

Moms all across the country are baffled by the sudden de-aging of their kids. As schools start, it seems to be getting worse. For some kids it’s just now sinking in that things are not going to be okay for a very long time. For others, they’re suddenly back around friends but they can’t hug, they can’t touch. The things that used to bring them comfort are now sources of danger.

And you know, it’s no big deal. We can handle this. It’s not like there’s anything else happening in the world that may be stressing any of us out. I’m sure that you, like me, have an unending well of energy and patience from which to draw in order to support your kids through this.

OF COURSE WE DON’T.

The truth is, we’re regressing too. It’s why you’re watching old movies and TV shows over and over. It’s why you’re making comfort foods multiple times a week. It’s why you’re playing music from when you were a teenager. The things that have been huge this summer - like the Verzuz battles on Instagram or Babysitters Club and Moesha on Netflix - they’re all about nostalgia and comfort.

Regression is a symptom. Stress is the cause. So here are a few tips from another mom in the trenches.

1. Take care of YOU. Give yourself grace and allow yourself comfort and rest. Do it out loud, model for your kids what being gentle with yourself looks like. They already know you’re freaking out. You don’t have to act like everything is fine, this is the time to show them how we move when everything is decidedly not.

2. Give them fewer choices. They’re overwhelmed already so asking them what they want and what they think may just be too much. Instead, you can ask them to choose between two options or you can ask them if they feel a specific way. Simplify.

3. Go with it. Put on the shows they liked when they were younger, do the things you did to comfort them a few years ago that you thought they outgrew.

4. Empower them. Remind them of what we’re all doing to stay safe and healthy. Remind them that you have their back in this strange new world and that you’ll help them do whatever must be done.

5. FORGIVE. YOURSELF. DAILY. You’ve probably said and done some things today that you’d take back or do differently if you could. But carrying that guilt into tomorrow won’t give you any more energy or patience or answers. It won’t help you and it won’t help them.

I wish I could tell you that there’s a magical regression cure, but it isn’t a disease. It’s a sign and a signal. Our choices are to heed it or fight it. I don’t know about you, but I’m fighting too many battles already to take this one on.

We will get through this. Our kids will get through this. And slowly but surely the regression will fade and our kids will start annoying the crap out of us for completely different reasons. Until then, please remember that we’re in this together.

You’ve got their back. I’ve got yours.