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.

Day 51: The Illusion Part III

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.

When I get a glimpse of life as it is instead of life as The Illusion leads me to believe it is, here's what I see: Control is not up for grabs, and trying to orchestrate the people and circumstances in my life to my liking doesn't give me power, it robs me of power. And more importantly, it robs me of peace and joy. 

I can't control the world around me or even how I feel about it, but I do control what I do with those feelings. And each time I choose resistance over acceptance, negativity over positivity, coercion over communication, domination over respect, I choose to give away that small piece of power I do have to change my world by changing how I view it and respond to it.

When I start to take an honest look at these things, a small, devilish version of me pops up on my shoulder and whispers, "Pay no attention to the man behind the curtain." Because the thought of relinquishing control, imaginary as it may be, scares me. Acknowledging that fear and insecurity, not strength and confidence, are what make me so volatile leaves me feeling too vulnerable. And so I run from reality, back to the safe arms of The Illusion where I feel comfortable. Unsatisfied, conflicted, angry, but comfortable.

It's all I've known, and if I don't make a change, it's all I will know and all my children will know of me. And that is a thought I simply can't bear. That realization brings the angelic me to the other shoulder pleading, "Fling the curtain wide open."

So as I continue on with this project, that is exactly what I hope to do. Nothing about this journey so far has been comfortable. Putting my words on a page in itself makes me feel exposed and vulnerable, and when the words are personal that intensifies. But, like childbirth, the discomfort is temporary and the reward worth every pain and push.

So I will learn to accept powerlessness and welcome vulnerability, because these are the things that will bring me strength enough to break free of The Illusion.

2 Corinthians 12:9 "Each time he said, "My grace is all you need. My power works best in weakness." So now I am glad to boast about my weaknesses, so that the power of Christ can work through me."

Day 50: The Illusion Part II

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.
  
Fear and insecurity. Nobody likes to feel them, and certainly nobody likes to admit to them. They fuel the need for control, they turn powerlessness into rage, and they cloak themselves in clever disguises, like perfectionism or arrogance. In fact, they're so good at this masquerade that most people who carry a heavy load of fear and insecurity don't even know it, at least not consciously.

It took me years to figure out that my need for control was born out of fear - then years more to say it out loud. But if the first step to recovery is admitting you have a problem, I'm on my way, because boy do I have a problem!

Part of The Illusion is the idea that a person in control is a person with power. But, as I'm learning with most of life, things aren't always as they seem. Strength and power don't accompany control, they are tied to trust and acceptance.

A person living in fear and insecurity desperately grasps at any control within reach, real or imagined. Without external control this person is left face to face with her fear; fear of powerlessness, fear of the unknown, fear of being unable to cope with feelings or circumstances she considers negative. 

A person grounded in trust, on the other hand, doesn't need to exert power over anything external because her security isn't dependent on the world around her. She trusts that whatever she experiences, wherever her relationships lead, whatever she feels, she will come out on the other side not only in tact, but maybe even improved.

If I'm able to experience that trust in the big things, I know I'm capable of learning to embrace it in the small things. And, although I hadn't planned on a part III, it looks as though we're headed there as I embrace the fact that I can't control that my baby is teething and my toddler needs help with a puzzle.

Day 49: Better Late than Never

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'm going to take another day to soak in some thoughts on trust and control, and in the meantime share a recent revelation and subsequent observation relating to the television.


I've been struggling to find a comfortable relationship with DVDs. I was paying far too much attention to external influences - research, opinions, what other moms are doing - instead of tapping into my intuition. Ironically, it was an external resource that brought me back to my intuition to make peace with the issue once and for all.

Putting on a DVD for Jackson never felt right. There were always feelings of guilt and inadequacy when I hit play - every time. I chalked those up to "shoulds" based on research, wanting to be the fictional 'perfect mom,' or having a black and white view of the issue that should be more gray. I didn't honor the fact that those emotions were coming from within me. In other words, I blew myself off.

I was never happy with how Jackson behaved during and after a DVD, but I blamed it on my absence instead of the DVDs presence (Of course! Don't we moms blame ourselves for everything?). In other words, I used guilt in a negative way by placing blame instead of using it as a positive guidepost for future decisions.

I listened to other moms I respect talk about their kids' favorite shows or movies and saw the TV on in other moms' homes and told myself, "See, they do it. It's not so bad." In other words, I looked at what someone else had decided was right for their family and tried to apply it to mine instead of looking at what I felt was right for my family.

Instead of honoring my intuition, I tried to smother it in reason: I do what we have to do to survive. We're not capable of being a no-TV house anymore. It's not ideal, but it's not that bad. I just need to relax about it and stop being so all or nothing.

Then by chance (or divine intervention) I came home from ECFE a couple weeks ago with a handout on temperament. I'm pretty tuned in to the kids' temperaments and had already done lots of reading on it, so I set the packet on the table and didn't give it another thought until a few days ago when I decided to read through the suggestions for the different traits before I filed it away.

I skipped to the section on sensitivity, knowing that Jackson is off the charts in this trait. There was the expected list: teach your child to recognize when he's becoming overstimulated, be sensitive to how much stimulation your child is receiving from noise, smells, etc., help your child avoid situations that are overwhelming, and so on. But then there was this simple suggestion: Limit the amount of television your child watches.

Somehow seeing it under the category of sensitivity and overstimulation finally helped me make the connection. I was uncomfortable with it because I knew deep down that it had a negative emotional and physical impact on Jackson. Not because of the research on brain development, not because of the arbitrary number of hours "they" call acceptable or unacceptable, not even because of a change in his behavior. Those feelings were there because I know him in an inexplicable way that can only be felt.

The fact that I couldn't put my finger on why I didn't like it or what felt wrong about it shouldn't have stopped me from acting on the feeling. When it comes to mothering, the feeling is enough.

Five days without the TV have validated my instincts. He's not needing more attention without the distraction of a movie, he's actually needing less. Instead of asking for a DVD (since they've all been removed from our living space and relegated to the depths of our place-here-if-you-never-want-it-to-be-found-again mess of a storage room), he happily plops down with a lump of homemade playdough and entertains himself creatively for an hour.

He's happier and more at peace without the bombardment of screen full of action overstimulating him (even if the action was just Cinderella going to a ball!). And the fact that he readily accepted the change, even seemed to welcome it, also validates that he also knew it wasn't a healthy activity for him.

I'm disappointed that it took me so long to acknowledge and honor my intuition, that I allowed other things to guide my choice. But I'm thankful for the experience because it reinforces what I'm always preaching to myself and other moms: Trust your instincts above all else. We are each experts on our own children and no one else knows what's right for us and our families like we do.

Day 48: The Illusion Part I

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.

My husband and I are very well matched. By that I mean we share lots of values and interests and not a single character trait. He's early, I'm late. He's optimistic, I'm pessimistic. He's a dreamer, I'm a realist. The entire list carries on that way. We could be the poster children for two people who are good on their own coming together to make each other great; that's how well we fill in each other's gaps. And of course we could also be the poster children for two opposite people driving each other insane with various shenanigans. But at least life is never boring.

When he was involved in a fender bender last week, it got me to thinking about one of these ways in which we're so opposite and why.

He handles daily chaos with ease. He doesn't lose his cool or sweat the small stuff, he focuses on the things he can change and lets go of the things he can't. It's beautiful, and I'm so jealous of it. But the flip side is that his crisis management skills aren't so finely tuned. The big things, a car accident for example, bring him to the same frenzied state I live in most days.

Not being able to get my two year old out the door without enduring at least four major stall tactics is maddening, makes me feel powerless and angry. But a car accident we can't afford? Meh, it'll work out. And being the analytical thinker that I am, it made me ask why. Why can I handle the big stuff without worry, when I'm paralyzed by the little, everyday stuff? The answer that came to me: the illusion of control.

I live under the illusion that control is within my reach. I'm constantly grabbing for it, because I actually think it's there for the taking. But when circumstances are well beyond me, when the loss of control is so big that the illusion is shattered, I'm released from that and forced into into acceptance. Accepting that I have no control brings me to a place of trust out of sheer necessity.

That trust is the game-changer, and the topic I'll continue with tomorrow...






 

Day 47: The Student Becomes the Teacher

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.

...Again. Someday I'll have to thank Jackson for raising me.

For the fourth week in a row, I watched as Jackson enjoyed pumpkin seeds and nuts during snack time at school while all the other kids at the table ate crackers and craisins. No fussing, no complaints, not even a request. He loves craisins and the few crackers he's had have been a pretty big hit, so it's not that the desire isn't there. He's simply satisfied with what he's given.

Now let me be clear, this is a God-given quality, not something I take credit for. We've certainly instilled nutritional values and respect, but that kind of contentment is simply a gift. He doesn't look around to find out what he's missing, he looks at what he does have and feels good about it. Obviously this comes from his glass-half-full father (hence the project, right?).

When other parents talk about the horror of taking their children down the toy aisle at Target, I can't relate. Jackson wants to look at all the cool stuff, then happily goes home empty handed. At the grocery store, he loves going down the cereal aisle to see the leprechaun on the Lucky Charms box, but he's never once asked to take it off the shelf. Although to be fair, he probably has no idea there's even anything in the box.

He doesn't throw a fit when we don't have time to hit the mall play area after shopping, he almost always takes it in stride when I have to work from home instead of giving him my full attention, and he even waits patiently for his turn when Max needs to nurse before him at nap time. He pretty much lives in a perpetual state of contentment.

I've always considered myself to be pretty content. But then my measure was always materialistic. It's true I don't need a flashy car, a huge home, or an expensive wardrobe to feel satisfied. And although I'd probably kill a man for an attached garage, packing my kids into the snow-covered car on the street is just part of life, not something that gets under my skin every day. By this one-dimensional standard, I guess I am pretty content.

But when it really comes down to it, I'm not content at all. Contentment doesn't leave room for resistance. It doesn't allow for control issues. It doesn't place conditions on happiness.

If, like Jackson, I lived in perpetual contentment, my circumstances wouldn't dictate my feelings or my behavior. But I live in a conditional world, one that requires things to go my way for me to feel good. What I long for, and what I see in my son, is a life that is unconditional. His contentment and happiness don't hinge on whether or not he gets what he wants. He simply is content and happy, and what happens in the world around him is just what is, not what defines him. 

I can choose to live an unconditional life, a life of contentment, but it requires that I embrace the freedom I've been dismissing. It's not about talking or bullying myself into contentment or just deciding to ignore feelings of discontent. It's about truly accepting that I'm free - to feel contentment, discontentment and everything in between - and releasing myself from the hold that I've allowed circumstances (be that my children's behavior, a flat tire or a bad mood) to have on me.

Easier said than done, but a goal worth working toward.

 

Day 46: What About Me?

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.

How many times have you heard this: You have to take care of yourself so you can take care of your family.

BAHahahahahaha! It gets me every time. It's no doubt spoken by a woman with a very different idea of mothering than mine or one who isn't a mother at all (also known as a woman who shouldn't even be allowed to have an opinion on mothering, much less voice it...I think I'm feeling a little fiesty today!).

Here's the reality: I can eat, sleep, and poop without assistance. They can't. I get trumped every time.

But my birthday car dance got me to thinking about what it would look like if I could take care of myself. What were the things that once nourished me, and are they the same now that so much of me is different? Here's what I came up with.

Music was my therapy. Whether I was sad, angry, happy, or stressed, music made the bad more bearable and the good better. 

Running, especially in the hot summer sun, was an essential outlet - a way to release aggression, clear my head, and find physical and emotional balance. 

Reading was my way to come down and relax, but also my stimulation, a way to learn and grow. Forward motion is a necessity in my life, and education, especially self-education, is a big part of that. 

Good food and a few drinks defined connection and relationships. Whether it was a friend or a boyfriend, conversation over a bar or restaurant table was where the magic happened. 

And silence, glorious silence, was a must. This was where I connected with myself, kept my finger on the pulse of who I was, what I believed, and what I wanted and needed.

For the most part, these things haven't changed. Sure, the books I'd pick up now if I had time are a little different, but it's still about growth. And the music that would nurture me now if Raffi didn't dominate the CD player is probably a little more tame, but so am I.

If I could take care of myself, these are still the things I would choose. But as I adapt to life as it is, these things have to slowly morph with me. I'm not going to get to spend two hours stretching, running eight miles and taking a long shower like I used to, but that doesn't mean I can't toss the kids in a jogger this summer and run the long way to the park. I can't drown out stress with music so loud it changes my heartbeat, but maybe I can switch out the Mary Poppins soundtrack for a little Jamie Cullum in the car with the kids now and then. And maybe a good bottle of wine and a gourmet meal at home with the kids can still be a way to connect with my husband. And would five minutes of silence and stillness when the kids are napping really mean the difference between getting all my tasks done or not?

Taking care of myself doesn't have to be all or nothing, and it doesn't have to be at their expense. I'm going to work on finding small ways to nurture myself and my family through the day so that I have more to give them.

Day 45: Free to Car Dance...

...and sing like you think no one's listening.

When you're Mom, birthdays aren't quite what they used to be. Babies just don't observe them. So my birthday began like any other day, with me getting out of bed early with Jackson, jumping back and forth between two children nursing, making breakfast, and doing laundry.

Fortunately I'm not a person who has ever really needed a big to-do on my birthday, so this was okay with me. The afternoon continued with helping my husband make forty pounds of mashed potatoes for a V-day event and watching Jackson dump a glass of water on his Dr. Seuss memory game "because the Grinch was thirsty." All in all, I'd call it the usual.

I took it all in stride, looking forward to the evening when Nick and I could get away for a couple hours while my parents watched the kids. I had really wanted to start tackling the freedom concept, so the plan was to take thirty minutes to myself before our date to write a post. Max had other ideas.

He was exhausted, but fighting sleep. Maybe he could feel the impending separation, maybe he picked up on my frustration and desire to get away that was heightening with each minute he didn't fall asleep. I watched as the clock ticked and felt my alone time vanishing before my eyes. This I did not take in stride. In fact, just the opposite. I got pissed.

My parents arrived and as Nick finished his potatoes, I handed off my happy-against-all-odds baby who wouldn't sleep and stormed out of the house to go sit somewhere quiet and write.

As I sped away (which I'm sure was much more dramatic in my head than in reality) I instinctively grabbed for a mixed CD I used to live and breathe by in my college days, but that I hadn't listened to in years. I turned the heat on, rolled the windows down, and cranked the volume until I could feel my eardrums about to burst. I belted out all the angsty tunes that got me through drama and breakups just a few short years ago, and kept on driving right past my destination.

Before I knew it, I was all the way across town and I just kept going. With each song came flashbacks of what seemed like someone else's life. The images bore no resemblance to my now baby-centered, poo-filled, breast-milk-driven existence. By coincidence, I drove past a few of the apartments I had once called home, and memories came flooding back. And with them tears. This was a mid-life crisis more than a walk down memory lane.

But as quickly as it had come on, it was over. As I reminisced about a life that was all about me - what I wanted and what made me feel good - I started to remember the emptiness, the longing for something more. I remembered the lonely nights lying awake, dreaming of having a husband and children to dedicate my life to. These were my deepest desires then, and now my reality. And finally with that realization came the car dancing...and weird looks from other drivers.

Frustration, sadness, and feeling overwhelmed were replaced with joy, freedom and intense gratefulness. The husband I once dreamed of pales in comparison to the husband I have. The children God gave me surpass the ones I imagined in every single way. I am so blessed, and I want to revel in that. I don't want to miss all the things I waited for that are right in front of me, and when I don't choose freedom and joy, that's just what I do.

The day ended with a precious few hours alone with my husband (and a few drinks that didn't hurt), and a pan of homemade brownies. I'd say it was a pretty great birthday, and one that I hope will color the year to come with contentment and most of all freedom.

Day 44: Freedom Conceptualized Part II

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.

When I know better, I have to do better - and I always know better. If it's possible, I'm informed to a fault. There are times when, instead of feeling empowered by information, I feel controlled by it - I let it fill my head with shoulds and rules instead of choices and guidelines. Of course it's not the information that is the problem, but what I do with it. Poorly managed, information sets the stage for the constant internal power struggle that inevitably seeps out to manifest in my relationships.

For those of you unfamiliar with the kind of knock-down-drag-out fight happening in my head on a daily basis, let me give you a window. I know the objective importance of respectful communication and honoring my child's needs as equal to my own, and when I fall short of the goal (which of course is perfection), the internal monologue goes something like this: "What you're doing is wrong. Stop yelling and get it together! You're failing him. You're damaging him. You're not a good enough mother for him. Just stop! What is wrong with you?!" 

I literally fight myself in the very same way I'm trying to avoid fighting my child. I know it's neither effective nor healthy for him, so why would it be for me? I feed my own power struggle by trying to be an authoritarian parent to myself instead of accepting where I'm at without judgment, understanding the basic needs that underlie the feelings and actions I'm projecting, and finding a way to meet those needs instead of trying to treat the symptom by controlling the behavior. 

When I try to enforce an arbitrary standard of behavior on myself, I forfeit freedom and feed my inner control freak. In a sense, I steal my own power, which in turn leaves me searching for ways to feel powerful again. And trying to feel powerful and in control parenting a two year old, as we all know, is a recipe for disaster. In the most basic sense, I'm not communicating effectively with myself, and it makes me unable to communicate with others effectively.

This is a concept that I believe is at the core of my personal and parenting struggles. So it seems, since mothering duties are calling now, that this will be an ongoing posting topic. Hopefully all the rambling and stream-of-consciousness writing isn't totally useless for those of your reading!
 

Day 43: Freedom Conceptualized Part I

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.

This is going to be a thinking-out-loud post that may or may not make a whole lot of sense along the way, but will hopefully come to a thoughtful conclusion at the end of part II. The concept of freedom is one that I'm still working through, so my thoughts aren't fully formed ideas yet. I say this to say: if I ramble, bear with me!

Freedom is the cornerstone of my country, my politics, my faith, my worldview. You would think this would make it accessible to me, but it always seems decidedly out of reach. The obvious conclusion, then, is that I am the only one denying myself freedom. How ridiculous. To be surrounded by freedom, yet choose to live in captivity to anything is simply asinine (I've secretly always wanted to use that term and never found a fitting place for it, but if ever there was a time!). But to everything there is a purpose, so what purpose does rejecting freedom serve in my life?


When it comes down to it, living freely requires accepting responsibility...for everything. If I'm tethered to my defaults, they can take the blame for my failures. If my feelings control me, I can't be held liable for my actions when they take over. If my Italian genes determine my fiery temper, it's not my fault when I fly off the handle. All of this comes in quite handy when I don't want to carry the burden of responsibility that comes along with my choices.

If I'm tied down by my circumstances, I get to complain about never getting time to myself. I can talk about all the sacrifices I make for my husband and my children, and how those things don't allow me to do what I find relaxing or stimulating. I can moan about how stressful my life is and how that makes me less patient, less capable of living outside of default mode. To put it in no uncertain terms, if I'm captive, I can be a martyr.

But when I take a good honest look at my life, and when I remember that at every moment of every day I am free, suddenly things are very different. Suddenly I'm choosing to yell when I'm angry, choosing impatience, choosing not to make time for myself, choosing to let the things that bring me fulfillment (outside of my children of course!) fall by the wayside. Suddenly these things aren't happening to me, they're happening because of me. 

In most of life I have a strong sense of personal responsibility; I can't stand a victim mentality. But in these insidious ways, I've been living as a victim. How ironic that I'm my own perpetrator. I've refused to accept freedom because I don't want the responsibility that comes along with it. I don't want to accept that the reason I don't get time to myself is because I choose to sleep with my baby and refuse to offer him breast milk from a bottle. What fun is it to look honestly at why I feel stressed: I take on too much, I refuse to admit when I can't do something that's asked of me, and I refuse to ask for help. Oh, any my time management skills suck! 

No one forces responsibilities on me, and no one can make me feel guilty for saying no or not getting something done. That's a lot to accept. But whether I accept it or not, it's reality. So why pass on the freedom staring me in the face just so I can hide behind a false sense of "I'm not responsible?"


More on that tomorrow...

Day 42: Freedom Exercised

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.

Well, I had hoped to work on the concept of freedom today, but instead I took advantage of a rare few hours of personal freedom away from my home and children. I spent some time with my husband for my birthday and had a lot of fun while my parents took care of the kids. And when I returned everyone was in one piece, so the day was a success for all of us. I also got 45 minutes of alone time that radically changed my day and my outlook, so I'm excited to revisit that in tomorrow's post as well. I think it ties in beautifully with the concept of living freely.

Day 41: Setting the Tone

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 woke up on the wrong side of the bed today. Max, who usually doesn't require me to lift my head off my pillow at night, needed a 4am potty break. Then again at 7am at which point he decided he wasn't going back to sleep. Beyond the fact that I was tired, I was irritated that his plan to start the day didn't align with mine. I was already envisioning all the yelling I was going to hear from a tired baby and how I wasn't going to be able to take it. Talk about setting everyone up for failure! And wouldn't you know, our morning nap - if you can even call it a nap - was a huge struggle.

When Jack woke at 7:30am I was resentful because I wasn't ready to take on the day yet. Of course these feelings of preemptive resistance were only self-fulfilling. I had an appointment to pick up some goat's milk nearby, and decided I needed to go alone. And although Daddy being home usually trumps me, today my leaving was the end of his world. He could feel me pushing him away and it made him need me that much more. Eventually we worked through it and I headed out.

The chance to get away for a short while gave me a much needed opportunity to breathe, but I couldn't shake it all off. The rest of our day was a roller coaster. One minute I'd breathe through it and respond calmly to him, the next I'd raise my voice and get disrespectful with him. I just couldn't give myself to him without resentment today, and being the sensitive and perceptive little man that he is, he felt every bit of it. It's really hard being Mom to a kid like this, but thankfully it forces me to be real with myself and him.

Before his nap I told him when he woke up I would put all my work away for the night and focus on him. And we did have a really fun hour of playtime before Max got up. In that hour I was open and available, I was engaged and playful instead of distracted or setting limits, and there wasn't a moment of conflict. Once Max joined us and responsibilities arose - cooking supper, keeping the laundry going, getting him to the potty - the fun was over. Max would yell and he would lose it. He wanted to nurse while supper was cooking. One of his toys wouldn't balance like he wanted and he was a puddle.

A few times I yelled over him to get his attention, which of course heightened his anxiety and made things worse. Other times I spoke calmly, bent down, touched him and connected, and voila, my self-regulating helper showed up to bring Max a book and pat his head to stop the yelling. 

I see it every. single. day. What I resist, I create. And yet I still fight with myself. I'm constantly engaged in an internal power struggle and it colors the rest of my world in conflict because that energy is what my children live by. I'll write it again because it's that important: My energy is what my children live by. When I walk into a room, they know exactly how I feel before I open my mouth or touch them, and they feel what I feel. Too many days it's something I don't want them to have to feel.

I feel like I'm captive to my defaults, to resistance and pessimism, but this isn't the truth. The truth is that I am free. Free to find joy in my life and in my children. That freedom doesn't change when circumstances change. It doesn't change when moods change. At every moment of every day, I am free. This is a concept I want to flesh out in another post tomorrow. But for tonight, these are the words I will sleep on: I am free.

Day 40: A Year's Work Pays Off

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.

As parents, we're constantly teaching, consciously or not. Sometimes our children exhibit a new behavior and we wonder why or where they got it, only to realize they picked it up from watching us. Oh, were you there when I was kicking the dog for jumping on the baby? Oops! Other times we teach the same phrases, actions, and guidelines over and over for months on end without seeing a return. But if we hang in there, that miraculous, long-awaited day comes when we see all our hard work pay off. We experienced one of these at ECFE today.

Jackson was across the room from me playing with his favorite tractor, complete with a farmer and trailer full of animals, when he was approached by the oldest (3) and largest boy in the room. As the boy grabbed the tractor and started to pull, Jackson held on tight and searched the room for me with an uncharacteristically calm face. I stayed where I was and simply said, "Talk to him about it."

He turned to the boy and said, "I'm going to keep this." The boy continued to pull, and a teacher moved in to moderate. She told the boy to listen, and asked Jackson to tell him again, which he did with a little more gusto. When the boy persisted, the teacher encouraged Jack to repeat himself, and he replied with a strong, "It's not okay for you to take this from me." Finally, the boy took notice and they were able to play with the coveted toy together peacefully.

I sat back and watched in amazement and with intense pride. There was no fit, there was no yelling, not even a moment of reactivity despite that fact that his feelings were strong. He maintained composure, spoke strongly, but respectfully, and stood his ground in an intimidating circumstance. These are the things I've been consciously teaching for over a year, and he was finally able to access them without my guidance. Hooray!

It may feel like all the repetition is for nothing, like they're just not getting it. But the truth is they get it in their own time. Today was the day Jackson was emotionally ready to tackle this situation on his own, not yesterday or a day sooner. And tomorrow he may need guidance again. But at least I know the groundwork we're laying isn't for naught. No matter how many times you tell yourself, sometimes a reminder like this makes it that much easier to go on repeating the same lessons over and over and over.

And now that I know he's added this skill to his communication tool belt, maybe it's time for me to catch up!
 

Day 39: Respectfully Annoyed

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.

Before I had kids, I dreamed of vacationing on a Mexican beach, sipping mai tais and relaxing while my pre-baby body soaked up the sun. Now I fantasize about sitting alone in a quiet room for an hour. Oddly, I made the beach dream a reality more times than I've been blessed with the quiet room in the past two years. Perhaps this explains the short road to annoyance. But in any case, it's forcing me to look at an aspect of my communication skills that need a little polishing. Okay, this project may be about being kind to myself, but it's also about being authentic, so let's be honest: I'm not polishing, I'm developing this skill from scratch because it's sorely lacking.

Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, they can be downright annoying. This is especially true when that someone is two years old. We've recently entered a persistent stage where names must be repeated over and over before a sentence can be uttered, and questions, regardless of the fact that they've already been answered, must also be repeated a minimum of four times. This is enough to drive me flippin' nuts. But of course I don't want to really drive home the message "You're annoying!" and make him carry that around, so what's a mom to do? 

The mainstream approach to this would be to try to hide the fact that I'm annoyed; pretend those feelings aren't there, shove them down, or coat them in other forced feelings that aren't really feelings at all because you're not feeling them. Not only am I too intense to be capable of these things, but doing so would model disingenuousness. The energy tied to our emotions is something people feel, not something they hear us say, and children are more in touch with energy than anyone. When we try to hide feelings, deny them, or name them something other than what they are, we either send the message that the true feeling, the one they can sense but we won't admit, isn't okay to feel, or we leave them confused because what they know (the energy they feel) and what we tell them (the mislabeling or denial of the feeling) are incongruous.

So if my approach, both by default and by philosophical choice, is to be authentic with these feelings, I have to do it responsibly. Here's where the communication skills are falling short.

As I made supper, Jackson was asking the usual questions: What are you doing? Can I see? Why are you doing that? How does that work? And on and on. Finally he came to his favorite, "Can I help?" In this case, there was a large, sharp knife involved in the project, so I explained why he couldn't. He understood, but didn't want to accept it, so he proceeded to ask me again and again. I hit my limit by the fourth or fifth time and finally shouted, "Jackson, I already told you no. Stop asking!" To which he replied, "Mommy, you should talk to Jackson more respectfully." Face meet palm.

It's okay to be annoyed by annoying behavior. I'm only human. But it's not okay to let that annoyance drive me to treat him with less love and less respect. Instead of being reactive, I can work on communicating purposefully. I can communicate annoyance respectfully just like I can joy, anger, love, and sadness. The emotions change, but the communication doesn't have to. And while I'm developing this skill, I can rest easy knowing that I've given him the confidence and tools he needs to stand up to my reactivity and even help me through it.