Day 86: Was that It?

It's been about a week since the last pacifier bit the dust, and all the mayhem I predicted has yet to hit. A couple days with no nap, a few with significantly (and cheerfully) delayed naps, and not a single hiccup at bedtime. That was it.

What an amazing validation of the choice we made to let him outgrow his need rather than forcing him to separate from something we chose to give him for comfort in the first place.

It's almost surreal to think back to the tearful phone call I made to my mom when Jackson was just two weeks old. I was devastated because I had to give him the dreaded pacifier. I was supposed to be his comfort, not some cold piece of silicone. But with my outrageous oversupply problem giving him a painfully gassy tummy, I had no choice but to offer him comfort somewhere else - in my arms, but not at my breast. It was heartbreaking.

Six months later I had gotten over the feeling of failure that came every time I popped the paci in his mouth and my milk supply had finally evened out. But by that time he was so used to it - and so was I - that taking it away didn't seem right. I knew he was attached enough that it would be a struggle, and one not worth fighting (although talk to me again in 10 years when I'm paying his orthodontist). So we ended up letting him lead the way.

If I'm honest, I'm just glad it didn't take another two years! For a while I thought maybe he'd be taking it to college with him. But I'm so glad we respected his need while it lasted and have been able to give him what little support he needed through the incredibly smooth transition that came when he outgrew it.

And despite what I'm sure my family must think, weaning from the breast will happen before college too. Seeing how easily and painlessly we were able to walk through it with the pacifier only makes me more confident that child-led weaning is the right choice.

He will outgrow the need to nurse someday, and when he does I'll be sad and proud all at the same time. Sad that such a special part of our relationship will have come to an end, but proud that I respected and met his needs so completely for so long and proud that he will have grown confident enough in our relationship and himself to venture out into the world without needing the security of nursing. But hopefully we won't cross that bridge for quite a while.

Day 80: The Day I've Been Dreading

It's here. The day I've been dreading for a long time now has finally come. Jackson chewed a hole in his last pacifier. On the one hand I'm ecstatic, I've wanted to get rid of those things for ages. But at what cost?! He may never nap again!

Right now you're calculating his age in your head, thinking: A pacifier? At his age? That's certainly what I'd be doing if I were you, anyway. But just like I plan on letting him naturally outgrow his need to nurse, I wanted to let him decide when he was ready to leave the paci behind. And since he's only been using it in his crib for the last year and a half, it hasn't been disruptive to the rest of life - except maybe for those poor front teeth.

Yes, you read that right. He's also still in his crib (he's how old?!), but we're letting him decide when he's ready for that transition as well, especially because it requires a move upstairs to a bigger bedroom farther away from us. Plus, when I talked to him about his friends and their beds, then asked him about his crib, his only response was: "It's the best!" So if he's happy, I'm happy, and when he's ready, I'm ready.

We've talked a lot about the paci recently, and I told him whenever he feels like he's grown up enough to sleep without one, he can tell me. On a few occasions he did, but then quickly changed his mind when the reality of not having it set in.

We also talked a lot about his chewing habit. As he chewed through the stash one by one, I explained that if he didn't stop there wouldn't be a paci left for him to use. But I don't think he really grasped the reality of it.

So when I woke up this morning to find the final paci mutilated in his crib, I died a little inside. Am I doomed to battle through every nap and bedtime for the rest of his life? I've never seen a teenager screaming for a paci, but Jackson's pretty attached to it. All I could think to do was cut off the gnawed-through tip and leave him an unusable piece of silicone to hold in the hope that it would get him through the transition gently.

But alas, an hour into nap time and I have yet to hear silence in his room. What I do hear is lots of jumping, chatting (I really must have a talk with that snuggle puppy who doesn't know when to stop talking), and all manner of silliness. So we haven't hit our worst case scenario yet, but I'm still holding my breath.

This is one of many transitions in our near future, so I'm really trying to embrace change. Sure some difficulty will come along, but so will some excitement! Naps may be pretty rough for a while, and this may be the worst possible timing for that, but we'll get through it. And we can get through it unscathed if I can keep a positive attitude about it. It will pass. No stage, good or bad, lasts forever. And this I will repeat to myself over and over when it takes hours for him to fall asleep!

Day 30: A Better Day...Sort Of

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I will choose acceptance over resistance.
I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
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.

After sleeping on our fiasco from yesterday, I feel much better. I woke up with new resolve to find joy in our day no matter the circumstances. And whether it was the attitude adjustment or my body finally recovering from the weekend food splurge, the exhaustion and resistance I woke with yesterday were gone.

Circumstances today have proved to actually be very similar to yesterday, so why is it a better day? Because I decided it would be. It's that simple, and I am that much in control of how our days go. We had a baby wearing meeting this morning, and getting out of the house was as much of a struggle as yesterday. But instead of rushing, reprimanding and ignoring Jackson's needs, I chose to work with him.

He ran away when I said it was time to go potty (a requirement before we can leave the house), but I chose not to take it personally, not to see it as disrespect but as a way of communicating. Instead of trying to change his behavior from the outside with demands, I told him we were going to get goat's yogurt at the coop before our meeting, knowing that would motivate him internally. No potty meant no yogurt, and his love of yogurt won out. I had to remind him three more times as we were getting bundled up, and each time he chose yogurt. Handling it this way made me feel less pressure and anxiety, made him feel in control of his choice to go potty and get his jacket on, and saved us from a power struggle.

Our trip to the coop was pleasant, and he only needed a few reminders of how capable he was of staying close and keeping his hands on his mini-cart, much like last time. When we got to the library for our meeting, I let him run free for a few minutes, then tried to herd him to the meeting room. We teetered on the edge of a tantrum because he wanted to have the "earmuffs" (headphones connected to the computer), but I kept reminding him, "Talk first. Talk first." This is something we've been working on for a few months - talking first before he reacts to me or a peer, whether that means yelling, grabbing, or running away. A gentle reminder that the librarian doesn't allow yelling was enough to calm him down, and he decided it would be okay to try the earmuffs after our meeting was over.

After our meeting and "earmuff" time, we checked out our books and headed for the door. Again, a tantrum loomed as I tried to help him with his jacket. We went over the quiet rule and "talk first" again, then spent at least 5 minutes (which seemed like 30) discussing the things he wanted to do: read his new French book, listen to his French CD, watch his German and Spanish DVDs, make sushi rolls for lunch. Finally when he wasn't feeling resistance from me (which was probably still a surprise to him after yesterday), his own resistance faded and he happily put on his jacket because home was the place we could do all those things.

It takes time - a lot of time - to communicate this way and to involve him in every step of our day. I can choose to put my time and energy into him this way, knowing that the result is a happier, more confident little boy and a power struggle-free day, or I can allow time and energy to be drained from all of us by the negativity that results when a day is imposed on him.

It's a pretty easy choice when I look at the big picture, but some days, like yesterday, I get lazy and forget. I'm so glad he doesn't allow me to stay there. And I'm so proud that I've raised him to be confident enough to show me and even tell me when I've stepped away from where he and I both know we should be. He reacts the way he did yesterday because I've shown him that he deserves to be treated with respect, that he doesn't have to allow anyone, even me, to treat him in a way that isn't loving and kind. That's a huge victory, and the bright side I was missing last night.

Day 26: Nobody Likes Consequences

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I will choose acceptance over resistance.
I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
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.

 Natural or not, consequences suck. Because of my desire to save my children from anything that sucks, I think I may have been unintentionally shielding Jackson from natural consequences, and in doing so depriving him of important learning opportunities. Since I started this project, this has been one of the major shifts. Today we got some practice.

We went to "school" (parent-child classes through the school district's ECFE program) today, and as usual Jackson was very excited to see friends, teachers and toys. We got out of the house without a hitch and were only reasonably late, a great feat for us considering class starts at 9am. 

When playtime turned into circle time with songs, Jackson struggled with the transition and leaving toys behind. He struggled with waiting to use a bucket of tools his teacher was saving for a special song. He struggled with leaving the tools to wash up for snack time. Through these transitions, I tried to give him as much freedom as was appropriate within the structure of the classroom, trying to model and enforce respect for the teachers and other families. And we made it.

The final transition before heading home is moving from the classroom to the gross motor room full of tricycles, climbers, slides and swings. In the winter, it's one of very few places he can really expend some energy. Needless to say, I wanted to go to the motor room. And he wanted to go to the motor room, but the transition came too quickly for him. He wasn't ready to give up his "front end loader" complete with policeman driver and farmer in the bucket "because that's his favorite place to sleep." 

I explained that in order to go to the motor room, we had to help everyone clean up, then go potty. This is not new as we've had the same routine for almost a year at school. His response was, "I just want to stay here and play with my bulldozer." So I explained further, "By not putting the truck away you're showing me that you're choosing not to go to the motor room today, and we will go home instead." Which was met with what I hear all too often: negotiation. Slowly moving away he declared, "I do want to go to the motor room. I'm just going to finish playing with my bulldozer, then go to the motor room." I clarified at least three more times, emphasizing that by not following the classroom requirement of cleaning before we climb, he was showing me his choice to skip the motor room and go home. 

Finally I had to close negotiations. When I got down and put my hands on his waist to talk to him, he started to resist me and complain. I told him it wasn't my job to hold his body up and gently let him fall to the floor. This was the moment of truth. We were either going to have a massive meltdown or he would recover. Hopefully he didn't see the fear in my eyes. 

In the brief seconds he was on the floor, I could actually see him processing his options. He chose self-regulation. He stood up and I helped him put the truck away. Of course in his world truck on shelf meant boy in motor room. So I took his hand, talked through the choice he had made, and nonchalantly added, "Okay. Let's go home." Then I braced myself while I bundled him up and got Max in his car seat, just waiting for the backlash. It never came.

He reiterated that he wanted to go to the motor room and I asked why he couldn't. He talked about his choice and added, "I can try again next time." He got it! It clicked that there was a window of opportunity that he had chosen to pass up. And I got the chance to tell him he was experiencing a consequence - something that happens because of a choice we make.

It was tempting to let him off the hook, especially since he's been having such a tough time through the candida detox process (as evidenced by the previous transition difficulties of the day). But I would have let a significant teaching moment pass us by if I had. And this one lesson is going to bring us so much peace in the near future, that risking a few moments of disappointment and sadness was well worth it.

Day 9: Chaos Strikes Again

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I will choose acceptance over resistance.
I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
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.

*sigh* We had our first major default since I started this project. It was ugly. And a great reminder of why I'm doing this. It has happened before, and it will likely happen again, but I feel more aware, more in control, and more capable of turning the bus around once we've started the wrong way down Positive Parenting Drive (it's a one-way street, you know). What would have usually ended up in a head-on collision was reeled in soon enough that I walked away with only a moving violation.

It had been a loooooong tough day. Jackson woke up crying because he was "sad that Daddy isn't here." All day we tried to talk through it, but he was struggling to transition from Daddy's full attention all weekend to Daddy gone at work all day. Understandable since Daddy's a pretty awesome guy. Our ongoing conversation went about like this:
Jackson: I'm sad because Daddy left.
Mommy: Why does Daddy have to go to work?
Jackson: To provide for us so we have a warm house and clothes and food.
Mommy: That's right. Does Daddy always come back?
Jackson: Yes. Daddy's coming at supper time.
Mommy: Daddy wishes he could be home now, but he'll come as soon as he can.
A few minutes elapse...
Jackson: I'm angry that Daddy left.
Mommy: Why does Daddy have to go to work?
Jackson: I don't want Daddy to provide for us.
Mommy: Does Daddy always come back?
Jackson: No. He doesn't. Daddy doesn't wish he was here. He won't be home soon.
Mommy realizes we're hitting a wall and further communication will be of no use.

You can imagine how the rest of the day went with a child who simply feels sad and angry about something neither of us (nor Daddy) can change. We couldn't reason this one away, he just had to feel it. I tried to distract him with his favorite activities, but when even playing in the sink isn't enough to bring the day out of the gutter, you can pretty much resign yourself to a tough day.

There was a pretty much a constant struggle between the two of us - he didn't want to do anything I asked, he didn't want to do anything else, he even peed in his pants three times because he wouldn't even go to the bathroom. Everything was just wrong in his world. I maintained composure all morning, even managed to accept his nap that was under an hour without getting upset, but by the end of the day he had worn me down.

We got home late from a grocery trip that shouldn't have taken so long (I can't wrap my head around how long everything takes when I'm carting two kids around by myself!). I was stressed over how late we were going to be getting to our supper, so I felt a little frantic as I put away groceries and started cooking. Max was in the exersaucer in the kitchen yelling (my baby doesn't cry, he literally yells at me when I'm not performing to his satisfaction), alerting me to the fact that he needed a nap and adding to the pressure I was feeling. Sound chaotic? It sure felt that way!

Jackson always picks up on my energy, and he's always profoundly affected by it. He started in complaining about Daddy again, and incessantly asking for things he knew he couldn't have (scissors, dates that are for dessert, to nurse while I was cooking). I was too involved in the whirlwind around me to look through to the deeper need he was expressing. I took these things at face value and denied him with no "yes" to counteract the fury that "no" can bring. Before I knew it, he was taking his shirt off (mind you he had already been pantless because of the three prior pant-peeing episodes) and crying in nothing but his socks because he wanted his shirt back on. Again, I failed to see through to the deeper need and simply told him he needed to "live with his choice" because I couldn't stop in the middle of what I was doing (which, by the way, was taking out the garbage - more important than my 2 year old's need for my attention and affection? I think not).

I had left him with no choice. He had to take even more drastic measures to get my attention. So he grabbed for the dates on the counter. I stopped him, moved them back and explained he could have them after supper. He grabbed them again, and I repeated, all the while with Max yelling (at me), the pan sizzling away, the groceries not yet fully put away, and the music that Jackson requested on. CHAOS! I can't take anymore chaos! He grabbed them one more time and when I stopped his hand he yelled "NO! NO! NO!"

So did I come down to his level, talk to him, sit with him...Nope. I yelled louder. "Enough! That's enough! Just stop! Pick that up!" pointing to the date that had fallen on the floor. As you can guess, this didn't lead to peace. It didn't lead to anyone feeling heard. It didn't lead to anyone feeling loved. It didn't even lead to "better behavior." What it did lead to was hurt feelings, more crying and complaining, and a whole lot of mommy guilt.

Once Nick got home, Max was put down, and peace was restored to our home I was able to once again model repentance while he practiced forgiveness. We talked about his feelings, his needs that weren't being met, my needs, and my feelings. We talked about why it happened and how it should have happened instead. We will leave it in the past and we will try to do better the next time chaos hits. Tomorrow is a new day. I guess we can't win 'em all...

Day 5: When You Win, I Win

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
Jackson is newly DVD obsessed. This was a tough one to log under the negative-into-a-positive category. I like to do things "right", and a two year old watching DVDs isn't right in a black and white world. Before Max came along, I could do almost everything right, and that meant Jackson had no screen time whatsoever before he turned two. Once I started trying to juggle two kids along with running a household and working from home, I ran out of options. I couldn't give him my undivided attention or fill his day with child-centered outings anymore, nor could I expect him to entertain himself for hours on end.

Cinderella's ball gown

It started innocently enough. We would only watch a DVD if Mommy had to work longer than 45 minutes. Then we hit a rough patch with naps and we added 'when his body needed to stay restful and Mommy couldn't sit and read books' to the parameters. Then it turned into a way to keep him occupied while I put Max down for a nap, and before you know it we're watching Cinderella almost daily. Only Cinderella, by the way. Don't try to suggest anything different, he's not interested. It's a hard pill to swallow, but it's where we're at. Having two children, especially this close together means that sometimes we do what we have to do to get through the day, not what's ideal.

The positive is he's not satisfied with plopping on the couch. He draws while he watches, he talks to Gus Gus and Jaq (I'm proud to say I know it's spelled that way because we also read the book, haha!), or he cooks while it's on. The other positive is that he's able to use it as a framework for imaginative play. He's constantly pretending we're the step sisters and Max is Cinderella, or that we're Jaq and Gus and Max is Lucifer the cat. Or that a homer hanky is "Cinderella's beauuuutiful ball gown." Just like with books, he can take elements of the story and create his own version.

The DVD is no substitute for independent play or interaction with me, which he still gets plenty of, but it's not ruining his life either. At least he isn't getting sucked into becoming a screen zombie, even if it is on more than I'd like.

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
With Max in the sling, I pushed the car seat on the stroller with one hand and held Jackson's hand in the other as we walked through Target. He had found a foam sword in the $1 section at the front of the store, and I decided it was a dollar worth spending to keep him occupied while we shopped sans cart.

We miraculously made it all the way across the store without incident when we came to the toilet paper aisle. There I saw a large section of empty, ground-level shelving next to the Charmin. There he saw a veritable wonderland with bears to talk to while they watched him...excuse me...while they watched "the King and the Grand Duke" play with a sword. (Why yes, that is another Cinderella reference.) I let him play while I agonized over a toilet paper, then a kleenex purchase before coming to him to explain it was time to go. This is where the struggle of wills usually begins.

I explained why we needed to keep moving, that Grandma DeGia was going to be waiting for us at our house, that we couldn't take our sword home until we paid for it, things I thought might internally motivate him to come instead of imposing it on him. No such luck today.

So do I drag him to the front by the hand crying? Maybe if I pick him up and carry him it won't be so bad. He's not so big, maybe he can still fit in the infant car seat...

When I stopped trying to devise a way to force him into what I wanted him to do, it dawned on me... Maybe he can tell me what he needs before he's ready to leave. So I asked. Turns out he needed to say goodbye to the bears before he ended their picnic, and he needed to be assured we would go see the leprechaun on our way out (he gets a kick out of walking down the cereal aisle to check out the Lucky Charms box). It was that simple this time.

So instead of resisting him and subjecting the store to a tantrum and him to the trauma of being deprived of power over his own body and life, I got to accept that he had needs that were as valid as my need to leave the store and meet them. Through the cooperative lenses I try to put on over my black and white eyes, this is an obvious example of how meeting everyone's needs is possible and doesn't require sacrificing the "win." Even through my competitive default lenses that say when one person gets what they want the other loses, I'd still call this one a win-win!

I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.

If we stayed home for all of Max's naps and Jackson's nap, we would never leave the house. Until recently, Max could sleep in a sling pretty much anywhere, but it seems this is slowly changing. At best he'll fall asleep after we're out for 30-60 minutes, which usually means he only gets to sleep a very short time before he's woken up to go back in his car seat and head home.

This is quite inconvenient since a tired baby isn't all that much fun. But I will instead focus on the fact that he is giving us a window into his developing personality. He's curious, engaged and loves to observe. He's learning as he watches and listens, and he wants to be an active participant in his world. At four months, these are very cool qualities.

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.
I often have to stand face to face with my past mistakes because I'm the mother of a child who never forgets. Literally, never forgets. In the past I've let this be another catalyst for beating myself up and feeding the cycle. Today I celebrated. 


In the middle of a happy and peaceful breakfast, with no prompting at all Jackson suddenly blurted out, "Mommy, something happened when someone yelled at me." So I asked, "Who yelled at you?" and got the dreaded but expected answer: "Mommy." I followed up with the obvious, "What happened when Mommy yelled at you?" And was met with the even more horrific, but still expected, "I felt scared." 


Now I know he gets scared when I yell, even though he doesn't act like it in the moment (heck I get scared when I yell) and we've talked about it and I've apologized after every single time it has happened. But there was something about the spontaneity of this pronouncement that cut me to the core like never before. That those feelings stick for so long and are so pervasive that they effect him days and weeks later is sobering. 


The celebration came after the devastation passed. He trusted me enough to tell me. He trusted me to understand and honor the way I made him feel, not blow it off as something in the past or something that didn't matter. He trusted me to be able to handle hearing something honest about myself and respond with love and acceptance. And he followed up his observation with the declaration: "Mommy would never hurt me, and she loves me even when she's angry. I'm always safe with Mommy." I can only hope that he internalizes those words along with the fear that I've caused, and that I can internalize the lesson he taught me today. This will be a catalyst for change, not for wallowing in self-hatred.