High Pony Tails & Heavy Feelings

A practical example of how to co-regulate with your child

Hi friends! Welcome to Erinnah's Treehouse Family, the podcast where faith and psychology meet in the parenting trenches. I’m Kelly Whittaker — mum, Christian mental health clinician, and someone who knows what it feels like to juggle big emotions, tiny humans, and yesterday's laundry all before breakfast.

Today we’re talking about a topic that’s close to the heart of every parent I know: How to talk to our kids about their big feelings — without minimising them.

Let’s be real: kids come with A LOT of emotion. Some days it feels like we’re just refereeing one big feelings-fest. And when you’re exhausted, it can be tempting to brush it off with, “You’re fine!” or “There’s nothing to cry about.” 

I’ve been there.

But today, I want to share why that approach often misses the mark, and what we can do instead to help our kids feel seen, safe, and supported.  We usually mean well when we say things like:   “It’s not that bad.”   “You’re okay.” and  “You don’t need to cry about that.”

We think we’re offering perspective. We think we’re helping them move on. But to a child, what they hear is: “My feelings are wrong.” Or even worse: “I shouldn’t feel this way.” That disconnection can slowly chip away at their emotional confidence.

Now, I want to take you back to when I was a little girl. I had this thing about my hair. It had to be perfect — the highest of the high ponytails, no bumps, all slicked down with gel. A little control freak in the making, I know!

On the mornings it was Dad’s turn to do my hair… well, let’s just say he wasn’t exactly trained in the high art of hairstyling. But here’s what I remember: he kept trying. Over and over again, even if it took four or five goes, he'd adjust it to get it "high enough" until I felt right. I honestly don’t remember if he ever got frustrated — maybe he did. But what stuck with me all these years later isn’t his tone or his technique. What I remember is feeling understood. That mattered more than perfect hair. And that’s the point, isn’t it? It’s not about fixing feelings. It’s about meeting them.

Children’s brains are still wiring up the tools they need for emotional regulation. Their prefrontal cortex (that rational-thinking part) is a work in progress. So when they get upset, they’re often overwhelmed by a flood of emotion that they don’t yet know how to name or manage.

What might look like a minor inconvenience to us can feel like a full-on crisis to them. They need us to help them hold that emotion until their brain is calm enough to catch up.

This is called co-regulation. And it’s powerful.

Let me share some easy alternatives that acknowledge feelings without making the problem bigger:

“Wow, that was really disappointing, huh?”

“You were really hoping that would turn out differently.”

“I can see you’re really upset right now. I’m here.”

These kinds of responses create space for a child to feel safe in their emotion — and safety is the starting point for all regulation.

Just the other week, my daughter had a full meltdown over… wait for it… a lumpy sock. (Mums, you know the kind.) I had a moment where I almost said, “Just put the shoe on, it doesn’t matter!” But I paused, took a breath, and knelt down to her level: “Lumpy socks are the WORST, hey? You want it to feel just right.” That was all it took. She sighed, leaned into me, and let me help fix it. The moment passed without a power struggle. Sometimes, it’s less about solving and more about showing up.

The Bible gives us a beautiful model for empathy. Romans 12:15 says: “Rejoice with those who rejoice, weep with those who weep.” God doesn’t rush us past our pain. He joins us in it. He collects our tears (Psalm 56 8). He draws near to the brokenhearted (Psalm 34 18).

When we reflect that same kind of nearness with our children, we reflect the heart of God. We show them: You are not alone in this.

So, next time your child is melting down over broken crayons, spilt cereal, or the wrong coloured cup — take a breath.

Instead of trying to make the feeling go away, try naming it. Let them know: This moment matters. Your emotions are safe with me. You don’t have to be perfect at this. (I’m certainly not!) But with each connected response, we build trust. We lay a foundation of emotional resilience our kids can carry into adolescence and beyond.

Thanks for being here with me. You’re doing holy work, parents.  If this episode encouraged you, would you take a second to follow the show and share it with a friend who might need it too?  Talk soon.

Nighttime Worries

and the giant moth

Hey friends, welcome back to Erinnah's Treehouse Family — where we’re all just trying to love our kids well, grow their faith, and maybe keep our sanity intact at the same time.

I’m Kelly Whittaker, your host — a mum, a mental health clinician, and someone who just last night had a real-life reminder that nighttime anxiety is very, very real.

Let me paint you a picture: It’s late, everyone’s supposed to be winding down for the night, and I’m finally this close to climbing into bed myself.

Then — BAM! — the bedroom door flies open.

My daughter bursts in, wide-eyed and trembling.

She tells me how she had been sitting on the toilet, minding her own business, when suddenly —

A GIANT MOTH — the size of a small bat, according to her — lands right on the window next to her face.

Its mothy little face staring at her face.

Total panic. She bolts straight into our room."

Now, as a parent, these are the moments where you hope you’ll be able to immediately start quoting Scripture about God’s peace and calming storms and ministering like the seasoned spiritual warrior you are...

But in reality?

It took two very sleepy parents, some deep breathing, a lot of hugging, and if I’m honest, zero Bible verses.

We were just trying to find the moth and not trip over laundry piles in the process.

Which got me thinking — maybe it’s time to actually print out some nighttime Scriptures and tape them to the wall for those ‘deer-in-headlights’ parenting moments.

Because let’s be honest — late-night parenting is not for the faint of heart."

Okay, real talk though — nighttime anxiety is very common, especially in kids.

And it’s not just because of rogue bathroom moths."

At night, There are fewer distractions, so those little worries grow louder.

Kids feel more vulnerable — it's darker, quieter, and they’re winding down from all the structure of the day.

Plus, their imaginations, which are usually delightful, can spin up some serious worst-case scenarios.

So if your child struggles at bedtime — it’s not weird. It’s not failure.

It’s just part of learning how to manage big feelings when the world slows down."

Let’s talk about some practical — and realistic — ways to help our kids settle their hearts at night using faith, not just ‘go to sleep already’ vibes.

 Wind Down Early

Start the transition earlier than you think. Screens off, lights dim, some basic calming activities like bath, books, and snuggles.

The goal is to let their brains slowly land the plane, not crash-land into bed."

Bedtime Prayer Ritual

Teach them a super simple prayer they can say every night.

Not a 12-minute theological essay — just a few lines like:

'Dear God, thank You for being with me. Help me rest in Your peace. Amen.'

It’s about building muscle memory — faith that automatically activates when fear tries to sneak in.

 Scripture Nightlights

Pick one or two verses and make them part of your bedtime routine.

Here are a few favorites:

Psalm 4:8 — 'In peace I will lie down and sleep, for you alone, Lord, make me dwell in safety.'

Isaiah 41:10 — 'Fear not, for I am with you.'

Psalm 91:4 — 'He will cover you with His feathers, and under His wings you will find refuge.'

Bonus points if you actually tape them to the bedroom wall like I now plan to, for those moth-pocalypse moments.

The Worry Box

"Create a 'worry box' where kids can write or draw their worries before bed and ‘give’ them to God.

It’s a great physical way to model surrender — and it keeps all the scary thoughts from swirling in their heads all night.

Worship Playlist

Set up a playlist of calm, worshipful songs or even Scripture lullabies.

It’s like giving their hearts a soundtrack of truth while they sleep.

bedtime Blessing

Before you leave the room, speak a quick blessing over them.

You don’t have to get fancy.

Something like:

'May the Lord bless you and keep you. You are safe. You are loved. God is with you always.'


And hey — can I just say?

There will still be nights when the moth wins.

Or the worries feel bigger than your best-laid bedtime routine.


"When that happens, remember:

Fear isn’t failure.

Anxiety isn’t a faith problem.

It’s just another opportunity to point your kids — and yourself — back to the One who never sleeps, never leaves, and never gets tired of hearing ‘I’m scared.’

And sometimes, the most spiritual thing you can do at 2 a.m. is just be there, hug them, and whisper, 'God’s got you, even now.'


Friends, you are doing holy work — even when you’re half-asleep, chasing moths, and muttering bedtime prayers you barely remember the next morning.

God sees your faithful, tired heart.

He is with you — and with your kids — through every nighttime worry.


Let’s keep pointing our kids back to the true Light that no darkness can overcome.

Even at bedtime.

Especially at bedtime.

"Thanks so much for hanging out with me today.

If this episode encouraged you, would you do me a favour?

Follow the show, leave a quick review, or share it with a friend who's walking this same parenting road.

And if you’re looking for even more tools to help your kids face anxiety with faith, check out my Christian-informed anxiety course for kids above.

It’s full of practical, biblical help — for real-life moments like moth attacks and beyond.

I’m cheering you on, always.

See you next time!

Is it just a phase?

Or Should I worry?

Welcome back to Erinnah’s Treehouse Family — the place where parenting meets grace, mental health meets faith, and sometimes… a giant moth lands next to your kid on the toilet. I’m Kelly Whittaker — mum, mental health clinician, and passionate about helping Christian families raise emotionally healthy kids in God’s way.

Today’s episode asks an important question:

“Is it Just a Phase? Or Should I Worry?”

Because if you’ve ever wondered is this normal, will it pass, or do I need to get help — you’re in very good company.

Let me start with a story.

A while ago, I worked with a mum named Rachel — not her real name. Rachel was exhausted, emotionally and spiritually. Her 7-year-old son, Liam, was having daily meltdowns after school. Big, explosive reactions over small things — a bumped knee, the wrong sandwich, losing a game. She told me, “I don’t know if this is just him being sensitive… or if I’m failing at parenting.” Sound familiar? She’d asked her friends, her Bible study group, even the GP — and everyone had a different opinion. “It’s just a phase,” some said. “Boys will be boys.” Others said, “He needs stronger discipline.”

Rachel was left second-guessing herself.

Here’s the thing — it might be a phase. Or it might be a sign of something deeper that needs some support. And knowing how to tell the difference? That’s the wisdom parents often don’t feel equipped with.

How do you know when to worry?

As both a mum and a clinician, here are a few signposts I often share:

Duration – A phase is usually short-lived. If the behaviour has lasted more than a few weeks or months without improvement, it might need attention.

Disruption – Is it interfering with your child’s life? With their sleep, friendships, schoolwork, or your family’s peace?

Distress – Is your child suffering? Not just acting out, but anxious, withdrawn, constantly overwhelmed?

Development – Are they struggling to keep up with age-appropriate tasks or emotional regulation?

Discernment – Yes, this is where we lean into the Holy Spirit’s wisdom too. Sometimes God gently nudges us that something more is going on.

Back to Liam.

When Rachel and I unpacked things, we realised that Liam wasn’t just “having tantrums.” He was experiencing anxiety. He had trouble transitioning from the structured school day to the unstructured freedom of home. His brain and body felt dysregulated, and he didn’t know how to express that except through outbursts.

With a bit of support — a child anxiety program (yes, like the one I created), some co-regulation strategies, and a few key biblical truths about safety and peace — Liam began to change. And so did Rachel. She no longer felt helpless — she felt equipped.

You’re Not a Failure for Asking Questions.  Sometimes, we get caught between fear and faith — we don’t want to overreact, but we also don’t want to under-support our kids. So, asking “Should I be worried?” doesn’t mean you don’t have faith. It means you’re wise. Discerning. Caring. Proverbs 15:22 says: “Plans fail for lack of counsel, but with many advisers they succeed.”  Sometimes that counsel looks like a podcast. Sometimes a friend. Sometimes a professional.

If you’ve been wondering, “Is this just a phase?” — I encourage you to look at the big picture. And if you’re not sure, don’t carry that alone. There are resources. There is support. And more importantly — there is hope. You’re doing better than you think. And you don’t have to do this without help.

And hey — if this resonated with you, I’d love for you to check out my free podcast archive or explore My Kids Anxiety Program — designed for kids aged 6 to 12, built with the best of clinical wisdom and God’s Word. A link to a free sample.

If you enjoyed today’s episode, please follow me wherever you listen to podcasts. And share this with another parent who might be sitting in the same boat, quietly asking the same question: Is this just a phase?

Until next time, you’ve got this — and God’s got you.


The parenting fail that ended in a moon boot

and forgiveness

Hey friends, welcome back to Erinnah's Treehouse Family!

I'm Kelly Whittaker — a Christian mental health clinician, course creator, and just your average mom trying to balance evidence-based parenting with the "real-life chaos" part of family life. Spoiler alert: Sometimes... it doesn’t balance. Sometimes it topples over. Like a Jenga tower. On a cruise ship.

Today’s episode is titled Forgiving Yourself for a Parenting Fail — and let me tell you, I have earned the right to talk about this one.

Let me set the scene for you:

Our first family cruise. Excitement levels? Sky-high. Anxiety levels? Also sky-high — because what if someone got seasick? What if someone got lost? What if we forgot sunscreen and became lobsters by day three?

Day 2 rolls around, and BAM — one of those creeping anxieties materializes.

My kids, hopped up on endless ice cream buffets and ocean air, decided to race each other back to our stateroom. They approached the stairs like two Olympic sprinters, conveniently forgetting every motherly warning I’d ever given about "always walk on stairs, children, especially on a moving vessel."

Next thing I hear is a blood-curdling scream. And there’s my son, lying at the bottom of the staircase, absolutely howling.

Now, context is important here:

My son feels his feelings in FULL, high-definition color. He is not a "stub your toe and shrug it off" type. He’s a "small paper cut, full Oscar-winning performance" kind of kid.

So naturally, I assumed he was just in shock — embarrassed, maybe a little bruised, nothing major.

Cue me, your trusty mental health clinician, kicking into full-blown therapist mode right there on the cruise ship stairs:

Calm voice? Check!

Deep breathing coaching? Check!

"Let’s regulate through the pain!" speech? Check!

Passengers awkwardly stepping around us like we’re part of a live art installation? Check!

I was determined to "talk him through" this little bump in the road, get him back to the cabin, ice it up, and call it a day.

Well... fast forward to a giant golf ball-sized bump, an urgent ship’s doctor visit, an X-ray after disembarkation...

And voila!

A fractured ankle.

Cue four weeks in a moon boot.

Cue four weeks of my own crippling guilt.

Now — let’s talk about that guilt.

Because if you’ve ever misjudged a situation with your child, if you’ve ever underestimated a cry or overestimated a reaction, you know that awful feeling that creeps in afterward:

I should have known.

I’m supposed to be good at this.

I literally have degrees in this.

Where was my Holy Spirit discernment WHEN I NEEDED IT??

Here's the hard truth I had to swallow:

Even the most loving, attentive, trained-up, prayer-soaked parents will mess up sometimes.

Sometimes you'll under-respond.

Sometimes you'll over-respond.

Sometimes you'll be so busy pulling out your best clinician voice that you’ll miss the "this kid actually broke a bone" memo.

And you know what?

God still covers it.

His grace is still enough.

Your child’s story isn’t ruined.

And neither is yours.

Here’s what this stumble is teaching me (and maybe you too):

You Are Still a Good Parent Even When You Mess Up.

Our job isn't to be perfect; it’s to be present.

Parenting is not a test you pass with an A+. It’s a relationship you nurture with grace, patience, and a lot of humility.

God Parents Us Through Our Parenting.

Every mistake becomes an opportunity for you to grow, to lean harder on Him, to practice real forgiveness — the kind you preach but often forget to give yourself.

Humility Is Holy.

Admitting when we get it wrong actually builds trust with our kids.

It teaches them it’s okay to be human. It teaches them it’s okay to lean on God, because none of us — not even Mum-with-the-qualifications — can get it right all the time.

So if you’re carrying guilt from a parenting moment where you didn’t show up perfectly, can I just say:

Lay it down.

There is no condemnation for those who are in Christ Jesus. (Romans 8:1)

You’re allowed to forgive yourself because He already has.

Your kids don’t need a perfect parent.

They need a present, repentant, grace-receiving parent.

And that, my friend, is what you are.

Thank you for hanging out with me today.

If today’s episode encouraged you, would you take a moment to subscribe to the YouTube channel, leave a comment, or share it with another parent who needs a reminder that they are not alone?

You’re doing holy, hard, beautiful work — even when you trip up (literally, or on cruise ship stairs).

See you next time!