Day 58: You Make Me Feel

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.

A conversation on my Facebook wall today prompted me to think about this concept and how it relates to my children, namely what I model and teach them.

"How did that make you feel?"

"Did that make you feel angry?"

"That made me feel sad."

These are phrases I'm trying oh so hard to discard from my parenting repertoire. You may be asking yourself why. Emotional intelligence is so important and it begins with giving a child an emotional vocabulary and helping him connect with and understand what he's feeling. So these would be good phrases to use, right? Not quite.

Sad, angry and feel are great words, but make...not so much.

What I'm teaching Jackson each time I say this to him is that someone else's actions, feelings or words control his feelings. I'm unintentionally reinforcing the widely accepted idea (in our culture anyway) that someone else has the ability to decide whether we're okay or not. And in the process, I'm letting conditionality seep in to his unconditional world.

Instead of placing blame on a person or circumstance, I want to teach him to take ownership over his feelings and responsibility for what he does with them.

If he feels angry because a child took a toy from him, I don't want him to think that boy made me feel angry. I want him to think that boy took a toy from me and I feel angry about that. It may seem like an insignificant distinction, but I believe it's critical.

Placing responsibility and blame on the boy, the toy stealing or the feeling makes him a victim - a victim who has willingly surrendered his power to his assailant.

Seeing the experience as nothing more than something that happened and the feeling as something he has ownership over empowers him to do something about it. Instead of giving his power to his assailant, he retains that power and can direct it toward getting his toy back or accepting that the toy is gone and moving on.

I'd do well to remember this when he's "making" me feel frustrated or angry too! Because placing blame on someone else for my feelings disconnects me from the true source of that feeling. How can I see that my anger is arising out of a deeper fear or control issue if I put ownership for those feelings on him?

Feelings are God-given guideposts that shouldn't be ignored. They are a way to find healthy direction through life, and when we write them off as someone else's responsibility instead of paying them the attention they deserve, we take that away from ourselves.

So I'm in the process of replacing those phrases with others framed in a more accurate way:

"How do you feel about that?"

"I felt sad when that happened."

"Did you feel angry when that happened?"

And I'm purposefully connecting to the true source of my feelings, not the trigger. I hope doing so will keep my children from being conditioned by our culture's view of feelings.

Day 57: Choosing Trust

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 breakfast, Max went down for his morning nap and I needed to jump in the shower to get to my hair appointment on time (first cut in six months...busy much?). Jackson was enjoying himself in the kitchen with Lucky, our chocolate lab, and had no interest in going potty and reading books in his bedroom like I wanted him to. This is the usual routine when I shower because I know where he is and that he's safe (and that the house is safe from him!), but he decided he wasn't done playing with Lucky.

So I had a choice to make. Was I going to pull rank and simply insist that he do as I said? Or would I motivate him, knowing he was looking forward to going to Cindy's salon? I was present enough to avoid the mistake of imposing my will on him, and I did seriously consider the acceptable second "if, then" option, but for some reason I instead just said, "Okay."

This isn't usually my natural reaction, but today it was. I felt no resistance, no tension, just freedom and acceptance. I could get used to this!

I chose to trust him...with the dog...and his "ladder"...in the kitchen. Whoa. Of course there are any number of things that could go wrong in this scenario, but in that moment I knew that I had given him all the tools he needed to make safe and respectful choices, even without supervision. I knew he was capable. I trusted him. So off I went to shower.

Ten minutes later I was out of the shower and getting ready, listening to what was happening in the kitchen. There was lots of laughter, some squeals of delight (which I assume were accompanied by licks to the face), and long conversations, which, although I couldn't make them out, I can only imagine were quite deep.

When I finally returned after being able to take care of my own needs uninterrupted (wow, really?), I walked in not to a disaster, but to a child and dog happily playing together.

I can't explain why the usual worries weren't there or why I felt such confidence in him today, but I hope it's a sign that this project is allowing me to make changes from the inside out, and that those changes are helping me to naturally choose trust over control rather than forcing myself in that direction.

It was a stress-free morning; something I can rarely say when we have an appointment. Being trusted gave him a boost of confidence in himself, and clearly helped him make safe choices while I was away. How can I argue with myself about that?

Day 56: Stairway to Heaven

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.

Jackson is always getting into things. Most of the time, things I'd rather keep in their place. Sometimes things that are readily broken. Other times things that could easily maim him. In any case, he'd much rather explore "real" things than play with toys - even open-ended toys that leave room for imaginative play.

An empty wine bottle + Max's bathtub = More fun than any toy

When I heard loud banging sounds coming from the basement I assumed he was either working at his tool bench or wandering through his playroom with one of my old mops as he's been known to do.

But when I finally went down to tell him it was lunch time, I walked in to see him struggling to pull the long and heavy solid wood toddler bed rail through his tunnel.

My first thought was, where did he get that? Looking around the room to find a few pricey bottle of wine standing up on one of the counters answered that question. Nick had used it to keep the bottles from rolling down the counter (they have to be stored flat and we moved our wine refrigerator to his office. I guess the cool basement was the next best thing).

My second thought was naturally, maybe the playroom isn't such a great place to store expensive wine. Followed quickly by another bang and that doesn't look safe. So I decided it was time to intervene and the rail was put back in its place to be moved to a safer location another day.

Then came the explanation: "I was using my ladder to climb (Mommy's thinking: Aaahhhh! What else did you climb on and how dangerous was it?). I wanted to bring it into my tunnel to climb up there, but it got stuck."

I was glad Pooh Bear (aka Jackson) didn't bring his ladder (aka bed rail) over to the honey tree (aka flimsy wire shelving on the wall) to climb up and get the honey from the bees since this is something he fantasizes about all the time. Or maybe finished that project before I came down, in which case I'm thankful he didn't break a limb or crack his head open.

I was also glad that he was finding so much joy in something so ordinary. One simple non-toy had brought him to a place of sheer bliss and excitement.

Using the 'safe ladder' to make coffee

But as the safety police, it was my job to bring an end to the fun. I told him we would look for a safe ladder when he got up from his nap, remembering a step stool we keep in the attic. So to ease the sting of losing his new ladder, we had that adventure to look forward to.

Things out of place tend to get under my skin, especially when those things are dirty (old mops, mop buckets, toilet brushes *shudder*), tiny, (buttons, pennies, bobby pins...), or good ol' trash (vinegar jugs, yogurt containers, coconut milk cartons...). But these are the things that bring him the most pleasure and take him to a creative place.

I'm learning to relax a little and release myself from the desire to control his every move to make my life more convenient. And I'm trying to ban "you have toys to play with" from my mouth.

The world is his playground and everything in it is a toy for him. He's learning, exploring and developing curiosity, creativity, independence, and a healthy sense of adventure. I don't want to smother any of that by narrowing his world to things that can be labeled "toy." I want to respect his need for this kind of play as much or more than I respect my need for order.

So the question I'll ask myself before I decide that something isn't suitable to play with will be, "Is this safe?" rather than what is has been, "Does this annoy me?" This is an opportunity to practice unconditionality: I can feel good, even when things aren't in their place. I will stop seeing the thing and start seeing the play.

Day 55: Make the What?

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.

What comes to mind when you look at that bed? Cozy, comfy, inviting... Not me. When I look at that bed, I think: Childless.

There was a time when making the bed, ridiculous decorative pillows and all, was therapeutic. Lining up the seams precisely, fluffing each pillow to perfection, straightening and re-straightening, then stepping back to take a deep breath and soak it in. It was like a calming ritual. And each time I'd walk past it, it would refresh me and renew a sense of peace and order.

Nowadays my bed looks more like this.

I'd have taken an actual picture of our bed, but it would've been a little too embarrassing. The covers are perpetually falling off the end, the pillows are never at the head, and at any given time you can find random socks, diapers and other various items strewn across it. Not exactly peaceful.

I could experience it as a chaotic space, but instead I want to look past the surface and see the peace that underlies all that chaos.

This is the space where I connect with Max. When he's snuggled up next to me and Nick at night, the covers fall because we keep each other warm. The pillows are out of place because he still wants to nap in the place he feels most secure - our bed - and thus I must barricade him with pillows now that he's semi-mobile. The items that litter the bed are evidence of a baby well-loved and cared for.

The things that bring all that external chaos to our bed bring so much internal peace to me and Max. I wouldn't trade any of it.

So now the mission is to find another, easily completed daily task that can bring peaceful energy and a sense of order like the bed used to.

Day 54: Love Me Tender

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.

I recently paged through The Five Love Languages of Children. I picked it up because I wanted to glance at the categorized ways of showing love, but skimmed because I knew I wouldn't subscribe to much of its reward-punishment-based philosophy. As is the case with most things, I absorb what resonates and what I think is right for my family and leave the rest behind.

The love languages according to the book are:
1. Words of Affirmation
2. Quality Time
3. Receiving Gifts
4. Acts of Service
5. Physical Touch

So I've been actively observing how the boys respond to and offer the different kinds of love.

Max was relatively easy to pin down. The kid loves kisses more than any human being on the planet. Plus, he's a baby, and what does a baby love more than being nursed, cuddled, and held, right? With time and development another may start to dominate, but for now, physical touch is his primary love language.

Jackson has taken much more thought and attention to figure out. He's such a connected and sensitive little boy that they all seem to be dominant! They say that watching how a person gives love is a clue about how they best receive love, but Jackson seems well-versed in all five.

He loves giving compliments (Daddy, I like your shirt!) and pitching in (Mommy, I'm vacuuming the floor for you!). He's always running up to us with something special (*handing me a box of breast pads wrapped in a homer hanky* Mommy, I'm the great birthday bird and I have a birthday present just for you!), he chooses together over alone whenever he can (Mommy, I want to play downstairs. Will you come with me?), and he gives heart-melting gentle touches to all of us all the time.

I just couldn't nail him down to one category. So I asked him. But he never gave a consistent answer, so that didn't help me peg him either.

Then I watched how he responded to me when I showed him love in different ways. And still no definite confirmation.

I finally came to the conclusion that Jackson is so young and such an open person, he's able to give and receive love effectively in each of the five ways. But one of the things I learned through this observation is that when it come to physical touch, he is more responsive to subtle forms of affection. Somehow I hadn't picked up on that before.

Of course he gets and gives lots of hugs and kisses, so there was nothing new there. It was specifically his response to other forms of touch - a gentle rub on his back or holding his hand while we talked - that jumped out at me.

When I or my husband showed him love in these less obvious ways, his body would visibly calm, his voice would quiet or he'd become silent, and all of his attention would be on us and especially on the touch. It was so remarkable that I'm shocked it slipped by me for so long.

When I reflect, he has always given this kind of affection to us. For as long as I can remember, he has gently stroked my arm or my face while he nurses. And when Nick goes to him in the middle of the night, he does the same and softly says, "I'm giving Daddy gentle touches." And of course he's utilized this as a calming technique a few times too.

So today, I decided to put this information to use. While he was watching Daddy on the computer I rubbed his back and played with his hair. He was completely still until I stopped, then he would turn to me and quietly request, "Mommy, I'd like you to keep touching me." What a special way of sharing calm time together and showing love!

Physical touch is pretty low on my list, especially right now when I have two little beings clinging to me all the time, so I guess it's understandable that this one flew over my head for so long. But I'm so glad I've tuned in to it, because I think it will be a very important tool for helping him maintain a balanced and calm spirit.

Day 53: Hand in the Hunny Pot

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.

Jackson's favorite activity as of recent is rummaging through the pantry. He builds towers out of cans and jars, he "cooks," and he "organizes" it for me. His other new favorite is drinking out of a shot glass he found in the basement cupboards (I definitely never envisioned that when I bought the old college relic!). Today he decided to combine his two favorites into one new, exciting activity.

We had just gotten home, so I was letting Max potty before starting lunch. Jackson was in the kitchen waiting patiently and playing with his little cooler. Or so I thought.

I heard the pantry door open, but thought nothing of it. He's never really gotten into any trouble in there. Then I heard a jar hit the counter. I figured he was organizing again and just had to get some things out of the way so he could rearrange. Then it was quiet. Too quiet.

I got Max dressed and rushed to the kitchen where I saw Jackson with the shot glass to his lips, a noticeably less full, dripping jar of honey sitting next to him. All I could think about were the little candida cells inside him throwing a party because their famine was over.

Cue the slow-motion: I yelled, "Nooooooo!" and yanked the glass from his hands. Unfortunately this was followed up by a frantic and too loud, "Jackson, oh no! Why did you eat the honey!? How much did you eat? It's not okay to just grab things and eat them! This is so bad!"

This reaction was understandably met with tears. He didn't know that I wasn't calling him bad. He didn't know that I wasn't disappointed in him. So I gave him a hug and had to explain that I wasn't upset with him, that sweet foods made his itchies come back and I reacted so strongly because I was worried about that, not because of him.

He quickly recovered and explained that he was Pooh Bear drinking honey from the bees. I can just imagine his excitement when he found the hunny pot and transformed into his chubby-little-cubby alter ego. That spontaneous, effortless leap into imaginative play must feel exhilarating. And that must have made the abrupt and intense interruption even more alarming.

I want to be responsive, not reactive. Reactivity is explosive, even when I don't mean it to be. It's scary and confusing for Jackson when I react. But when I respond, he understands, he feels understood, and he learns.

Ultimately this has everything to do with control versus trust, but that shift is going to be a long process. In the meantime, I'll be searching for ways to catch myself in the split-second moment between recognizing what's happening and reacting to it.

Maybe cultivating a habit of turning around and walking away to process would help, but sometimes a situation requires immediate intervention. What helps you cage your reaction so you can thoughtfully respond?

Day 52: White-Knuckle Parenting

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.

One of the things this project is helping me realize is that white-knuckle parenting works about as well as white-knuckle sobriety.

If you've ever loved an addict, you know first-hand what I mean. There's believable determination, a promise to do better, that this time will be different, only to be followed up by an inevitable relapse, another disappointment. Trust is shattered along with your dreams of a better life, and you find yourself right back where you started, maybe even farther down.

Sheer will power is no way to make a change in life. But it's where I've directed so much of my energy over the years. Coming out of a typical childhood where the operative word is simply "obey," I wasn't well-versed in other options. Will power was how I approached everything, as if life was one big pre-vacation diet. If only it were that simple.

When it comes down to it, will power is just another way of saying fight. In a competitive view of the world, will power makes sense - white-knuckle parenting and sobriety for that matter make sense. If everything is a competition with a winner and a loser, all you have to do is fight hard enough to be the winner.

But as my worldview has expanded, I've come to question this philosophy that pits me against everyone and everything in my life, this outlook that is outrageously self-centered. Who wants to go through life fighting? I've seen those people, and they don't look happy. They struggle through relationships (the ones that survive, that is), their guard never comes down, they never get to just rest and be at peace. I've been that person, and I wasn't happy.

Life isn't a competition. No one has to lose so I can win. When I fall back into this default view, I set myself up for all the things I desperately want to avoid, especially as a wife and a mother; power struggles, intimidation, coercion, disrespect, a search for the win at any cost - at anyone's cost. And when I try to use will power to change these things, I only feed that competitive nature. 

In a relationship-centered world, cooperation, not competition, is the name of the game. Instead of looking for win-lose, you look for win-win (forgive the cliche, but there are no simpler term to describe it). The goal isn't to come out on top, it's to find a way to reach the top together. It's a radical change that will power can't provide.

Will power will, in fact, sabotage the effort to change because it's inherently opposed to meeting needs. And this is exactly why white-knuckle parenting, like white-knuckle sobriety, is always doomed to failure. Will power requires you to ignore your needs in order to make a behavioral (read: surface) change. It's an effort to make a change from the outside in, when true change can only come from the inside out.

So I will just say no. But not to my behavior. To the competition I've set up with my defaults, to the internal power struggle.

As I accept that my children's behaviors are expressions of need, I'll extend the same understanding to myself. Getting to the root of undesirable behaviors in myself is a little scary, but not as scary as lifetime of fighting them.