Day 6: Superpowers

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.


This summer as I was running with Jackson in the jogger and my huge pregnant belly hanging out the bottom of my tank top, a stranger smiled at me and said, "Super Mom, eh?" I smiled back and looked down at my little pre-two angel, my miniature best friend who came with me everywhere I went. I pondered our utopian life of sunshine, splashpads, and jogging to farmers markets, libraries and parks, and thought, "Yeah. Maybe I am."

Fast forward to the present and I feel like anything but Super Mom. My house is a disaster. I now find myself at odds with my definitely-two angel far too often. There's not enough of me to adequately meet the needs of my husband and both my children. And I literally want to cry when I think about how far off in the future we will be when I'm finally able to meet my own needs of running, reading and relaxing.

This experience has opened me, made me more understanding, less critical and more compassionate. It's something that will allow me to relate to and support other mothers in a way I never could have before. It's pulled me from my black and white world where clean floors, "perfect" children, and a completed to-do list are necessary to feel happy, to a world where dust doesn't matter, children learn about real life, and the things on the to-do list are unimportant in comparison to the things that can't be tallied. This is a world beyond happiness, a world of contentment.

Do I wish the growing process could be a little less painful? You bet! But the lessons are worth every difficult moment. So I'll still don the cape, but now I'm a different kind of Super Mom. The kind who is able to prioritize relationships over tasks and who is able to see the fellow superhero in every mom.

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
Jackson and I have taken ECFE classes since he was just a few weeks old. It's a place he knows and loves. But today we went to our first class of the new semester in a different room with different friends, different toys, and different teachers. We came a few minutes late (no surprise there), so all the eight other kids, four moms and three teachers were playing and talking. It was loud, busy, a lot for anyone to walk into, but especially my sensitive, peace-loving little boy.

He was excited to be there, excited about all the new people and things, excited about all the activity he was about to be a part of. But he was also overwhelmed. He found favorite toys, one after another, and started hoarding (something tied to the current homeopathic remedy we're using for his eczema, but also a sign that he was overwhelmed). He started yelling, "No. You can't have these toys." as he looked frantically around the room.

Now let me tell you about all the external pressure I was feeling. I was feeling "rude" for not being able to go introduce myself to the other moms and new teachers. I was feeling the expectation was for me to stop him from yelling or force him to put toys down. I was feeling the other adults would make judgments about my child based on this first impression, and by association, judgments about me. I was feeling like I wanted him to show them what a kind and gentle kid he is instead of what he looked like in that moment.

But I ignored all of that. I accepted how he felt and how he was communicating it to me. I acknowledged his feelings, we found a quiet step to sit on, and we talked about being overwhelmed. I stayed close because I know I have to be his calm in the storm when he feels that way in a chaotic environment. And within minutes he was going around the room finding new friends to give his favorite toys to: "Would you prefer to play with this?" "Here, you can have a turn with this." "What's your name?" "Would you like me to make you some toast?" All of a sudden he was thriving in this environment that was initially so challenging for him, and he no longer needed my help.

And wouldn't you know, I still got the chance to talk with all the moms and teachers. Their kids took turns yelling too. And those expectations were probably all in my head to begin with. Glad I'm working on my acceptance superpower!

I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
Max is obsessed with his penis. He's four months old and he literally can't stop grabbing his crotch. Diaper changes: Crotch. Bath time: Crotch. Potty time: Crotch. It wouldn't drive me so nuts, but his hand is always in the way, making these tasks very difficult to accomplish. I was giving him some diaper free time on the floor the other day and walked in the room to find him lying on top of his arm, face on the rug...you guessed it: Crotch.

I love that he's, um, focused? Curious? In tune with his body? Well, I do know that I love that he makes me laugh. I just hope this isn't a prelude to a really awkward stage in adolescence...

I will choose to extend the same grace, love and forgiveness to myself that I try to lavish on my husband and children each day.
Only six days in and I can log a success! Jackson's carrots ended up in his cup along with his straw at lunch time. You better believe I saw it, but I chose to ignore it and let him continue. We talked about other things, sang a song, and he made some cute comment about the carrots tasting sweeter when he dipped them in the water. He played and ate for a short while, looking up a handful of times to see what my reaction was going to be. Then, because he has to verbalize all observations, he said with a smile, "Mommy didn't notice I put my carrots in my water."

This could have been a power struggle, it could have ended in one or both of us feeling really frustrated. Instead he got to play and we got to interact peacefully and happily. And the world kept spinning, even though carrots don't belong in cups.