80. How To Stay Present When You're Not Okay as a Mom: The Airplane Metaphor with Megan Dowd
I had my friend Megan on the podcast and we got into this conversation about being not okay as a parent.
Like, really not okay. Touched out, depleted, running on fumes not okay.
And somewhere in the middle of talking about her worst parenting moments, Megan said something that made everything click:
"The thing that will fix it is getting off the plane. That's not an option when we're somewhere over Montana."
We're all over Montana at some point: stuck in moments where there's no escape and your kid is losing it and you're losing it.
So, how do we stay present as moms when we're not okay (or solo, or need a nap or crying on the kitchen floor over taco beef)?
Who's Megan and Why The Airplane Metaphor Matters
Megan and I met through marketing stuff - I was drawn to her no-bullshit attitude and ethical stance on marketing (aka, not selling people shit they don't need, but getting the words right when you know someone needs your thing but doesn't know it yet). She's one of my people I outsource to - I talk a lot about how moms need to outsource things.
She's also a mom to a toddler who, in her words, "has zero chill."
We got on the podcast to talk about the chill and not-chill parts of parenting. Specifically: how do we not be okay without making that our kid's problem to fix?
And Megan had stories.
Story One: The Tongue Tie Lesson: When Your Baby Recovers Faster Than You Do
When Megan's son was seven days old, they had to get his tongue tie revised. It was all the way to the tip of his tongue — not a "let's wait and see" situation.
After the procedure, they had to do exercises. Six times a day. For six weeks. If you know, you know.
Here's what that looked like: stick your fingers in your newborn's mouth and massage the open wound so it doesn't grow back closed. Your baby probably screams the entire time. You take your hands out. Baby is... fine?
Megan said, "I wouldn't be fine. I wouldn't be fine."
But her parents kept marveling - "As soon as the need is addressed, he's good to go."
That kid, by the way? Still doesn't sleep. Megan said, and I quote, "that fucker still doesn't sleep."
Solidarity. (And also not to scare the shit out of the parents in newborn hell right now - even when mothers with older kids talk about not sleeping, they are still sleeping significantly more hours than they were when their kids were teeny tiny... and there are supports for new moms who do feel like they are in newborn hell).
Story Two: The Worst Flight: When Mom Is Not Okay And Neither Is Your Kid
Okay so we're circling back to that airplane metaphor.
Megan had to fly home from a last-minute family funeral. Already emotionally destroyed. The flight was supposed to leave at bedtime - not ideal, but manageable. Except it got delayed.
So now they're boarding at actual bedtime with an overtired toddler who's been holding it together through a weekend of grief and disruption and too many people.
Her son fought sleep for three and a half hours.
Screaming. Thrashing. He'd collapse mid-scream from pure exhaustion, sleep for maybe five minutes, then wake up screaming again.
The woman next to Megan for sure got hit with flailing toddler arms. Megan kept apologizing. And there was absolutely nothing she could do.
All she had was: "I'm really sorry buddy we cannot get off the plane. I'm done too. We can have a snack and a book or your Tonie."
That's it. That was the entire toolkit.
At the end of the flight, the seatmate said, "I have a nephew. Don't worry about it. I totally get it. You have the hard job here."
And Megan told me this: "There's something weirdly freeing about accepting there's nothing I can do. The thing that will fix it is getting off the plane. That's not an option when we're somewhere over Montana."
The "Over Montana" Metaphor: When You Can't Escape But Have To Stay Present
Because that "over Montana" thing is something as mothers we can all relate to, or we will.
How many times are you in Costco or at the park or at your in-laws' house and your kid is melting down and you feel this crushing pressure to DO SOMETHING that makes it stop?
But on an airplane, your options are so limited that you're forced into this radical acceptance: you can't leave, you can't access the regular list of things that might help, you can't completely change the environment. All you can do is stay present and ride it out.
What if we brought that same energy to the rest of parenting?
Like, what if instead of scrambling for solutions that simply might not exist, we just... stayed in it?
My friend texted me the other day: So my kid just broke down. Cried for 30min about missing his dad. Which is good, like for him to express that. And for the first time ever I just held him as he cried. Didn't try and fix him. Reassured him it's normal to miss people. It's normal to cry. And now I hope he passes out because I also need to do the same.
No magic cure, no script that will take this pain away - meeting the very human need of being seen and heard, and NOT FIXED.
Story Three: The Best Flight: How Staying Present Actually Looked
So Megan's best flight wasn't the quiet one where her son slept the whole time.
It was the one with crying babies. Plural.
One about five rows in front of them. One about six rows behind them. Both wailing babies.
Her son has always been a sympathy crier. Even as a tiny baby, if he heard another baby cry, his little brows would furrow and he'd start scanning around trying to figure out what was wrong.
So this flight? With crying coming from both directions? He was getting activated.
Here's what Megan did: She just... talked him through it.
"That baby is okay. They are with their grown-up. Look, it looks like they're getting a snack. Do you think maybe they might be hungry? Would you like a snack? Are you getting hungry?"
Here's what she did: narrating and mirroring, acknowledging the feelings in the space, offering connection without trying to fix everything.
At the end of that flight, a woman turned around and said:
"I'm sorry to ask, but do you have a background in early childhood education? I'm a pediatrician. I've been a pediatrician for 30 years. The way you were talking to your kiddo, the way you were talking him through what was happening and giving him options - that was textbook. You're doing an amazing job."
Megan almost cried. I would have fully cried.
How To Stay Present When You're Not Okay And Have Nothing Left
If you just read that story and thought "oh great, another thing I'm supposed to be doing perfectly" - absolutely fucking not... no. That's not what this is.
On the second flight, Megan had the capacity for narration and validation. On the first flight - the funeral flight she was depleted, grieving, touched out, and her son was beyond regulation.
Sometimes "I'm really sorry buddy, I'm done too, but we have to stay here" is the most honest thing you can offer.
And I want to name something Megan said that really hit me: she can maintain a conversational tone even when she's unable or unwilling to help with something.
Read that again.
You can be kind AND have limits. You can be present AND be done. You can validate your kid's feelings AND not have the capacity to do all the things.
Big Problem Or Little Problem: The Question That Keeps You Present
Megan learned this question when she was working as a para-professional with kids with intellectual and physical disabilities.
"Is this a big problem or a little problem?"
Not to minimize real struggles. But because taking even two seconds to assess can give you: a deep breath to recoup, clarity on what your actual options are, space to evaluate before you spiral.
On the airplane, the answer was: this is hard, but it's not dangerous. This is uncomfortable, but it's temporary.
That assessment gave Megan enough space to not spiral into all the stories our brains tell us when we're maxed out: "I'm a terrible mother." "Everyone thinks I can't control my kid." "What's wrong with me?"
When you're somewhere over Montana, you need that two-second pause.
Creative Regulation: The Porch Swing Morning
Megan told me one last story about a weekend morning when she was on solo parent duty and she missed the hangry window.
Her son has his dad's "hairpin trigger" for being hangry. There's like a centimeter of time between waking up and needing food. Miss that window and you've tipped over into big feelings that you cannot reel back in.
This particular morning, they missed it. Between diaper change and getting clothes on, they missed it, and everything fell apart.
So Megan took him outside to the porch swing. And she just started narrating:
"Do you see a tree with leaves?"
"Yeah, mama. I see a blue car."
"Do you see a blue car?"
"Yeah, mama, it's mama's car."
A few minutes later she said: "I'm getting kind of hungry. I think I'm going to go in and get some food. Would you like to join me?"
And suddenly it was his idea to eat.
That's the work. Not some perfect script. Just presence. Connection. Shifting the environment when you can.
Stay In Your Own Lane (And Teach Your Kids To Do The Same)
We've been saying this a lot in my house: "Stay in your own lane."
My kids are masters at veering into each other's lanes. One is supposed to be getting dressed upstairs. The other is supposed to be brushing teeth in the bathroom. Somehow they both end up in the hallway arguing about something that happened three days ago.
"Stay in your own lane" is my redirect. You have your task. They have theirs. Focus on your thing.
But here's the beautiful part.
My 10-year-old recently said to me: "Mom, stay in your own lane. I didn't ask for your help."
I was jumping in to fix a problem he was verbalizing. But he hadn't actually asked me to solve it. He was just processing out loud.
He called me on it. And he was right.
That's the kind of pushback I want. Clear. Boundaried. Not rude. Just honest communication that says "I can handle this, and I'll ask if I need you."
Isn't that what we're building toward? Kids who know their needs matter and also know how to advocate for themselves?
You're The Shepherd Not The Engineer: Releasing Control So You Can Stay Present
I keep coming back to this Russell Barkley thing about how we're not the engineers of our children. We're their shepherds.
Kids are born with something like 400 different possible wirings and predispositions. Yes, we influence them. Yes, parenting matters.
But they come into the world as whole people. With their own temperaments and preferences and ways of being.
My job isn't to mold them into some fantasy I have.
My job is to keep them safe, help them feel seen, and guide them toward becoming the fullest version of whoever they already are.
Some days that looks like narrating on an airplane. Some days it's "I'm done too, buddy." Some days it's losing your cool completely and then circling back to repair.
No script. Just showing up with what you have.
How To Be Not Okay Without Making It Your Kid's Problem
Megan said this thing that I can't stop thinking about:
"I cannot shape you. I cannot mold you. There cannot be any end game or vision in my mind of what I want that you will fulfill. It's a weird thing for your ego - so much responsibility for something and absolutely no control over the outcome."
That's hard to sit with.
It means releasing control. Accepting your kid might be wired completely differently than you. Letting go of the fantasy of who you thought they'd be.
And it means accepting you're going to have days where you are not okay.
The question isn't "How do I avoid being not okay?"
It's "How do I be not okay without making it my kid's job to fix me?"
On that worst airplane flight, Megan's son wasn't okay. Megan wasn't okay.
But Megan didn't ask him to make her feel better. She stayed present with both their big feelings without making him responsible for hers.
That's the work.
Creativity As Regulation When Mom Is Touched Out
I have to bring this back to creativity because here's what I know:
The moments when I'm most depleted, most not okay, most likely to lose my shit completely - those are the moments when I've been ignoring my own creative needs.
Megan taking her son outside to the porch swing? That's creativity. Using imagination and presence to co-regulate. Shifting the environment. Offering connection instead of control.
When I haven't written or made anything or moved my body in ways that feel good, I have nothing left. I'm just consuming - scrolling instead of expressing, numbing instead of feeling.
Creativity isn't a luxury. It's what helps you stay regulated enough to handle everything else.
And I'm not talking about three-hour art projects. I'm talking about:
Humming while you do dishes
Rearranging something that feels good
Noticing one beautiful thing
Dancing badly in the kitchen
Writing one sentence about how you're feeling
Those tiny moments? They're the difference between "I'm fine" as a lie and "I'm fine" as the truth.
The Real Measure Of Good Enough Parenting
At the end of our conversation, Megan shared what her parents told her:
"We know we're not perfect parents. We know we've not done it all right. But we hope we've done a good enough job that you feel safe getting the help you need - whether that's with us or with someone else."
And what Megan hopes for her own son:
"I hope if I've done such damage that I cannot be that person, I hope you know you deserve to find support. I hope you know you deserve to find safety."
That's it. That's the metric.
Not "Did I always respond perfectly?" Not "Did I never lose my cool?"
But: Does my kid know they're worthy of support? Can they ask for help? Do they trust their needs matter? Can they tell me when I've crossed a line?
Messy, imperfect yes? You're doing the work.
What To Do Next Time You're Over Montana
Look, if you're reading this and feeling seen - or maybe feeling like I just described your last public meltdown - here's what I want you to know:
You're not failing. You're not broken. You're not alone in having no idea what you're doing.
You're doing hard work. You're allowed to struggle. You're allowed to not be okay. You're still a good parent on the worst days.
Next time you're over Montana:
Ask yourself: big problem or little problem?
What can I actually control right now?
How do I stay present without making this my kid's job to fix?
When you get through it: five minutes of something creative. For you.
You're not just a mom. You're a whole person. And you deserve to remember that.
Tell me your "over Montana" moment. When have you had to parent through something impossible with no way out?
P.S. If you're in Canada and ready to stop performing "good mom," I've got you. Individual counseling or The Motherload Membership - community where we put down the mental load. All the details on my website.
And listen to the full conversation with Megan where we go even deeper - available on Apple Podcasts, Spotify, or kaylahuszar.com/podcast.
Connect With Guest Megan Dowd
Hey folks,
I'm
Megan.
I’m a certified Equity-Centered Coach®, a former classical actress, and professional translator of "I swear this makes sense in my head."
I hear the brilliance hiding under the word-vomit.You bring the messy, unfiltered version of what you do and why it matters; I'll help you shape the offer and the story, so people get it, want it, and remember it.
Need a hand figuring out next steps?
Or just want a little more info?
You’ll find ways to connect below.
