Day 160: Mirror, Mirror

I always see Jackson's behavior as a mirror, but sometimes I misinterpret the reflection.

When he chooses to do the opposite of what I've asked, resists cooperation, and has a "bad" attitude, I've been allowing that negative, inaccurate script to trick me into thinking it's a reflection of my weakness, a lack of power and authority. So is it any wonder I've been reacting by trying to assert myself through changing his behavior?

In reality, the reflection I'm seeing is of my own behavior and attitude.

He has always freely offered respect and cooperation when he's treated with the same. He's always open and emotionally healthy when he experiences connection and acceptance.

Of course this doesn't translate into being permanently cheerful, but it does dictate how often, to what degree, and for how long he feels sad, frustrated and the like. When those feelings do arise, he communicates so openly and honestly when he feels safe and respected that, as he's heard, understood and valued, they generally float out as quickly as they came in.

When, on the other hand, he feels rejected, judged, disrespected or controlled, we find ourselves standing in a stagnant pool of those feelings - the ones that are there to guide us away from where we are and back to where we're meant to be.

When I feel disrespected, the question I should be asking myself isn't: How do I make him respect me?

It should be: How have I been disrespecting him? And how do I change that right now by showing him respect in this situation?

Even Bob the Robot gets love and respect

Kids truly do need love most when they deserve it least, and that means respect, acceptance, and connection in the face of real or perceived (as is often the case) disrespect.

As I challenge the authoritarian script, I'm going to start taking a more honest look in the mirror of his behavior so I can see myself for what I am in that moment and choose a different path - one that leads to listening and connecting.

Day 141: The Difference a Day Makes

Edit: Since we all have different definitions of various undesirable parenting behaviors, I thought I should add a disclaimer. I never use abusive language toward my children; they are never belittled, called names, or otherwise verbally abused in the overt sense of the word. And certainly I never cross physical boundaries with them. What I consider intimidation and domination looks more like "normal" parenting in actuality. Raising my voice, shooting angry looks, using a hurtful tone, and throwing out threats of lost privileges are all forms of intimidation and domination which are ultimately used to coerce children into desired behaviors through fear. These are the things I'm referring to in this post.

 I wrote yesterday, but didn't post. Partly because it was more a therapeutic rant than a composed post, but also because it felt a little too raw at the time to put out there to the world (aka my tens of readers *snort*).

But having stepped back from the ledge I now think there is value in 'going there' - by which I mean not only writing authentically in hindsight, but letting authentic, real-time venting make an appearance as well.

So here's yesterday's post: 

Day 140: Overwhelmed

It seems like this feeling comes in tidal waves. It swells and washes over me, then fades until it's like it was never there.

The problem is that the days when I'm under, I'm really under. I can't breathe. I can't think. I can't move. And I certainly can't see the inevitable regression of chaos and inadequacy or the promised reappearance of order and capability.

Today is that day. With new rooms, neither of my boys are sleeping.

Max has been up since 6:30am and only napped one hour. He is now clinging to me as if I may forever abandon him at any moment simply because I tried to put him down in a new place. Never mind the fact that he's in the same bed with the same blanket, pillow and fan, or that I picked him up the moment he fussed, or that I finally put a mattress on the floor and nursed him to sleep there; I don't get any credit for that apparently.

Jack didn't nap at all. Can you say crazy? We've been in one long power struggle today, probably because I'm so tired from two weeks of waking all night with Max (when exactly is this fun little phase going to end?). Oh, and for some reason today seems like the appropriate time for an explosion in his desire for autonomy. Translation: Whatever I want him to do is now what he patently refuses to do because he didn't choose it himself.

All I want is for something to go my way. Can't something just be easy today?! Does everything have to be a struggle? And why, when all I feel like doing is crying because everything is so far from where I want it to be, is it easier to yell and punish my kids for the way I feel?

The fear of being unable to cope with less than ideal circumstances comes from being unable to cope with less than ideal circumstance. Days like today are the ones that make me frantic to control all things external in an attempt to avoid ever having to endure something like this again.

Yikes! Yep, that was the end. No positive conclusion, no pretty little bow to wrap it all up in. Yesterday. just. sucked. and I was wallowing in self-pity.

Thankfully my real-life knight in shining armor came home after a long day at work and jumped right in, doing dishes, playing with the kids, doing bedtime, and otherwise rescuing me and the boys from each other.

But with the perspective of a new day and a fresh sense of capability (I knew it would come, even if I couldn't feel it) I now have the benefit of analyzing my frazzled self from yesterday.

Here's the cold hard truth: It's my fear of weakness and the choice to feed into that fear rather than facing it that drives me to where I was yesterday.

When I start to feel as if life is just too much and nothing is as it should be - when the house is a mess (again...still), the HMN events need to go up (two weeks ago), the bills need to be paid (with what?), the article needs to be written (swallow your pride and appreciate the paycheck), and the kids need attention (are they still here?) - I feel inadequate. For me this translates into weakness, because if I were just more efficient, more organized, more focused or just all around better, I would be strong enough to carry it all on any given day. Riiiiiiiight.

My default reaction to weakness is to grasp at power any way I can get my hands on it. Unfortunately for the small walking and talking being in our household, this sometimes means asserting myself in the forms of intimidation and attempted domination. Tactics he is now (thankfully) confident enough to resist - hence the day-long power struggle.

Although I can't consciously identify it at the time, what I'm actually doing is trying to feel powerful and in control by taking power and control from someone else. How disgusting! And I don't say that in the self-deprecating, I'm-so-awful kind of way. I really just mean that this is objectively a disgusting way to treat another human being.

But the real problem isn't weakness or inadequacy. It's my refusal to let go, to accept my limitations, my circumstances and the lack of control I have over them. It's these things that leave me 'unable' to cope, not a lack of strength to power through and make it work.

Overwhelmed is much less likely when I'm living and parenting consciously. It even feels manageable when I'm focused on relationships over tasks, communication over accomplishment.

Instead of needing things to go my way, I see the value in reaching and expanding my limits and using the accompanying feelings as a guide in resetting priorities and reassessing responsibilities. When I release myself from the fear of weakness I feel what's real in that moment - be it sad, unhappy, unsatisfied, inadequate - instead of masking those 'inferior' emotions with 'powerful' anger. When I let go of expectations and address the reality of what is, I'm able to creatively meet challenges and I'm rewarded by feeling capable and powerful in a healthy way. And most of all, when everything goes 'wrong' I can still take pride and joy in connecting with my kids in the midst of all the chaos.

That is not where I was yesterday. It is thankfully where I am today.

The house is still a mess, HMN business still needs to be attended to, phone calls still need to be made, paperwork still has to be filed, and supper isn't going to make itself. But we're happy today. We're enjoying each other, laughing, getting through the hiccups quickly and cooperatively, and having a darn good day despite it all.

Thankfully days like yesterday make me appreciate days like today much more, so they do serve a purpose after all!

Day 115: Parched

When I step back and take a look at my life, I'm overwhelmed with gratitude and humbled by all I have that I've done nothing to deserve. In my real-life Prince Charming and two boys who could not be any more beautiful inside or out I find daily evidence of God's infinite grace and mercy, proof that on my own I could never be worthy of the blessings that flow freely from His hands.

And when those realizations come, they carry with them a reminder of how spiritually dry my life is right now.

Once upon a time we were part of a church community - one that was authentic, inspiring, and challenging. But the busier life got, the more commitment faded. Eventually Jackson became too talkative for the service and unable to be separated from me in the toddler room, and the final nail was in the coffin. It has now been about a year and a half since we've been back. And if feels like it.

Not that a weekly church service is a spiritual prerequisite, but without it, I've found it far too easy to let my other relationships and responsibilities crowd out my most important relationship - the one that, if at the center, elevates all the rest with it.

I feel more ready and open for connection with God than I've ever been thanks to all the other growth I've been undertaking. I think this is because spirituality permeates all aspects of life, and because the expansion of my worldview has stretched me in ways that allow me to see God in places I never knew He was before.

I'm sure some read posts on energy, unconditionality, the mind-body connection or intuition and think "New Age" (ahhhh, run for the hills, Christians!). But I see God's incredible physical and spiritual human design in these things. He made us energetically interactive beings, our intuition is a guiding gift from Him, it was He who interconnected our physical and emotional states, and the unconditionality of life only exists because of His sacrifice that allows us to experience freedom. What a shame to miss out on these dimensions of life that He intended for us to experience, utilize, and enjoy! If you gave someone a Swiss Army knife for Christmas, wouldn't you want them to use more than just the tiny, nearly-useless scissors?

So now that my eyes have been opened to the can opener, the screwdriver, the blades, and even the nail file, I find myself wandering alone in a spiritual desert. Those who share my foundational spiritual beliefs reject much of my philosophy and theology (which, by the way, are essential to my foundational spiritual beliefs!). And vice versa, those who share my philosophical beliefs often differ significantly in the spiritual realm. And in particular, a similar view of respectful, loving discipline is hard to find among Christian parents. (A post on that later!)
 
But I'm committed to finding my way back to center, back to the love that is the root and reason for it all. And to do that, I'll need to live in community with like-minded people. I'm a part of this amazing holistic parenting community that has been so instrumental in my mothering journey, and I need to dive back into a church community to foster the same growth in my spiritual life.

My hope is that the community we left behind is one that will embrace us again, new ideas and all. But whether we find our home in the familiar or new, I'm feeling ready and drawn to search. And this is reassurance that now is the right time. Not last year, not last month, but now. Acceptance and forward motion: two more blessings I couldn't live without!

Day 100: Perspective

My second parenting experience has been very different than my first for many reasons, and up near the top of the list is perspective. I have the advantage of seeing bits and pieces of the future here in the present.

When Jackson went through particularly bad teething spells, I literally thought he and I might never sleep again. When his choices became particularly aggravating, I was convinced the stage was going to last forever - he was going to throw peas from his plate until he left for college, I just knew it! When I had had enough, I couldn't take one more day, one more episode, even one more moment of whatever was getting under my skin because there was no visible end to the madness.

But coming out on the other side with everyone relatively unscathed allows me to feel differently with Maxwell. I've seen the end, and I know, no matter how far off it is, it's coming.

Now as Max works through another set of teeth and I'm barely conscious as I type, I can shrug my shoulders and say, "Eh, they'll be through soon and all we'll catch up on rest until the next set." When he refuses to sit up, despite the fact that he's crawling, pulling up and even walking the couch, I just brush off the bumps to the head, knowing that he'll eventually concede and fall to his butt instead of his noggin.

And I also benefit from the change that has come to my perspective of childhood behavior and parenting through education and experience.


When the aforementioned peas were thrown from Jackson's chair with a smirk and a look directly into my eyes, I knew he was doing it to get a rise out of me. But when Max tests boundaries, I'm able to see it for what it is: an experiment or an unmet need being expressed.

I suffered through Jackson's sleepless nights in a chair or walking a dark nursery because once we had initiated bed time, we couldn't leaving the room. Consistency, you know; one night of deviation and he'd think every night was a party! Now, when Max struggles at bedtime, he just joins us on the couch for a family snuggle.

Perspective has allowed me to relax, leave rigidity behind, and go with the flow of our family. What a relief! Although it's still a work in progress, I'm able to forgo a lot of stress and take more joy in our relationships now.

Day 95: Room to Breathe

Yesterday was the first truly beautiful Spring day we were able to get out and enjoy, and boy did we take advantage! The morning was spent at the "Sugar Shack" where we learned all about maple trees, sap, and syrup. We even got to roam the woods with buckets, collecting the dripping sap. The combination of sun, fresh, open air, leaves crunching under our feet and mud squishing up around our boots was magical after a long winter, especially for my earthy boy.

But the real treat came after the field trip was over. We sat in the grass and dirt - sans blanket or wet wipes (*gasp* I'm working on appreciating the value of unclean and messy!) - and ate a picnic lunch with good friends. When the kids (all 2-3 years old) had finished eating, they ran to the row of massive rock piles right next to us, where they spent nearly an hour climbing, jumping, and sliding around with each other while we mothers enjoyed nearly uninterrupted conversation.

The conversation itself was energizing and encouraging as it always is among this supportive group, and it stirred ideas that will be coming out in future posts. But I was affected on a deeper level simply by watching these wonderful women with their children.

I cringed as Jackson rolled around in the dirt and dust. I worried when he wandered out of sight on the other side of the mound. I held my breath as he stood at the top, working to keep his balance. I watched intently as he interacted with his peers to make sure I'd see if he needed my help.

Then I looked around and saw the freedom these other women felt and started tuning in to it.

One child was climbing the rocks barefooted, another without pants, and all were taking their turn on the other side of the mountain where they could be heard but not seen. There was no one yelling, "Careful!", no one standing up to check in. These women were trusting their children, giving them some much-needed freedom and space to play and explore. And they seemed to be doing it without a second thought.

I, on the other hand, was running an inner monologue to convince myself to honor these same needs that I know Jackson has: The car seat can be cleaned, his clothes can be washed, he can take a bath - let him get dirty. He is capable of asking for help if he needs it, he is capable of making safe choices without me hovering - let him play in earshot out of sight. He's thoughtful and cautious - let him decide when to be careful and what careful means. He's an excellent communicator, capable of navigating peer relationships without interference, and able to ask for help when he needs it - let him interact without guidance and decide how to handle conflict if it arises.

After a while, my nervous energy was overtaken by the calm coming from these other women, and the monologue was put to rest. Then both he and I were able to really bask in the gift of freedom we were being given in these moments.

Jackson is sensitive, but not weak. And he's growing stronger by the day. I'm doing my best to recognize and respect his emerging confidence and abilities and his diminishing need for guidance and assistance. But in all honesty, I'm probably doing a below-average job.

I hover. And when I do, I communicate distrust. When he senses that I don't think he's capable, that I think he'll need help, it eats away at the confidence he's trying to develop and stunts his growth. My only reward is a bump or bruise avoided, maybe an insignificant conflict diffused; very small prizes when they come at the expense of his autonomy.

The times I'm able to let go and give him room to breathe, I see him flourish. I watch him attempt big things, believing he can accomplish them, and he surprises me with capabilities I didn't know he had, because I never gave him an opportunity to showcase them. And the payoff I get when he beams with pride or learns to pick himself up and try again is enormous.

Being a part of this community is a humbling and inspiring experience, and one for which I will be eternally grateful. I'm continually challenged and validated in ways that wouldn't be possible on my own. So thank you, to those of you who blessed us with your presence yesterday and gave us the gift of freedom!

Day 82: Growing Up

As I write, I'm listening to a rousing rendition of the national anthem over the monitor that would give Christina Aguilera a run for her money.

Setting up books for Max

So far going paci-free hasn't disrupted bed time, but Jackson has yet to take an afternoon nap. Yesterday he spent three hours singing, talking, and apparently enjoying some restful alone time, but definitely not sleeping. Today seems to be going the same direction, but I'm sure in a few days he'll learn how to bring himself down and fall asleep sans pacifier.

But missed naps aside, he's very proud that he's growing up. It seems like so many changes are happening in such a short time, and I'm struggling to keep up!

All of a sudden he has an interest in standing up to go potty, being potty independent (he had previously requested help with his pants, but now wants to do it himself), dressing himself (one successful shirt attempt and lots of backward underwear thus far), washing himself up after a meal, washing his own body at bath time, and rubbing on his own coconut oil at bed time.

I can only imagine this relates to the homeopathic remedy we last gave him since it's all coming on at once and because it's such a radical change in his mental state - from wanting help despite the fact that he's capable, to wanting independence and even to stretch his capabilities.

Along with independence, I've seen so much budding responsibility in him. He's more vigilant than I am about Maxwell's safety, keeping him from cords, small objects, and stairs. And he's more interested than ever in helping, whether I'm cooking, cleaning or working, even when it comes to cleaning up his own toys and books.

I made a broccoli snail!

It's been so much fun to watch him swell with a sense of pride and accomplishment when he does something for himself or someone else. But I have to admit, it's bittersweet to hear his precious voice saying, "Mommy, I don't even need any help because I'm growing up!"

As I look to the future and all the joys and struggles that will come with the next stage and the one after, I feel excited and hopeful. But with that comes the realization that he's never going to be this age again. Once we've passed it, it's gone except for a few pictures and memories. And while I'm more than happy to let sleepless teething nights and experimental food throwing lie in the past, I'll definitely miss the grin that spreads across his face when he's becoming one of his many characters and his sweet voice saying with brazen honesty, "Mommy, I need some affection."

But the fleeting nature of these stages is precisely what makes them so special! Were he to spend his whole life charmingly enunciating words in the same sweet, high-pitched voice, it wouldn't stir the deep emotion that it does in its brevity.

So I enthusiastically welcome these spurts of maturity, and even the kind of growing up that eventually moves him further into the world and away from me. Because without this, I couldn't treasure the present so dearly.

Day 81: One of These Things is Not Like the Other

I've never been one to fit in, really, but I've definitely never been so far outside of "normal" as I am now. And raising my kids in a non-mainstream way means they're going to be different from the get go.

Of course to us, we're normal. And (stepping up on my soap box for just a moment) biologically speaking, we're the normal ones. But to most people, we're weird. What we eat is different, the way we communicate is different, the products we use (or don't) in our home are different, the activities we do (or don't do) are different, our ideas on health and wellness are different, the way we see the world is largely different. Not across the board, of course we do plenty of "normal" things too, but based on majority, we're different.

Mmmmm...Collard Greens

Every once in a while I have an interaction that reminds me just how "out there" we really are. Like today at ECFE when I found myself trying to explain why Jackson was eating pumpkin seeds yet again instead of having a non-organic apple with the group. It makes perfect sense to me - his body is extremely sensitive to chemicals (apples are about the worst on the list), plus nutrition is a major part of the healing process he's undergoing - but not to a person who doesn't share our nutritional values or health philosophy. No matter how much sense it makes, I just come out looking like some crazy woman who won't let her kid eat fruit! And no matter how I say it, it's assumed we're "too good" for something everyone else is having.

Someday the boys will be old enough to look around and see that their normal isn't the same as most other people's normal, and when that happens they'll be faced with the choice to accept who they are or change it. I'm hoping that raising them in a way that promotes confidence and conscientiousness will lead to the former. Self-assurance will keep insecurity from nudging them toward assimilation, and thoughtfulness will help them understand exactly why they are who they are, allowing them to see the value of their differences and the cost of conformity.

What I hope they learn by watching me interact with the world that's so different from us is that what people think of who I am or the choices I make doesn't have any bearing on who I actually am or the validity of my choices. And conversely that a person's value or "acceptability" doesn't depend on agreement, that seeing eye to eye is a bonus, not a requirement for acceptance.

Jackson is already practicing this kind of acceptance of himself and others. It doesn't rock his world that other people eat foods we don't have in our home or that they don't eat what we eat. He has no problem with the fact that his friends watch DVDs and he doesn't or that other boys like to play trucks while he's cooking or playing with animals (although, thanks to our good friend Carl, trucks are slowly moving their way up the priority list!).

In his perfect innocence, different isn't attached to judgment. The fact that everyone does things in his own way is simply a fact of life, not something that has to be ranked as better or worse. He doesn't know it, but he's living the philosophy I've been working so hard to integrate into my black and white world. So as he models this effortless openness for me, I'll do my best to help him hold on to it as he grows up.

Day 78: It's Everywhere!

This is what I was frantically shouting as I changed my first poo-filled diaper in months. If it's possible, I lost the art of diaper changes.

Max didn't take me up on the opportunity to go potty this morning as he usually does, which in itself wouldn't have been a problem. But when he woke up from his morning nap and I wasn't able to get to him right away, we took a turn for the worse.

Once my hands were free, Jackson and I headed toward the bedroom where he climbed up onto the bed to do some jumping (has he learned nothing from the five little monkeys?). Ordinarily Max waits for me, so when I opened his diaper with the intention of helping him potty, I was met with quite a surprise.

Before I knew what was happening, legs were flailing, hands were doing the inevitable crotch-grab, and a roll was underway. Then came the, "Oh no! It's everywhere!" The sheets, the pajamas, his arms, feet, legs, and belly; fortunately I got his hands under control before they made it to his teething mouth! Now what to do with the rest of this body that won't stop thrashing?!

I finally grabbed for a handful of wipes that were barely within reach as I tried to keep him from tumbling off the bed or getting his head crushed by his bouncing brother, who by the way was shouting (aka singing) into a funnel because there wasn't enough going on already.

I wish I could say I took it all in stride. But when Jackson asked, "Mommy, how are you feeling?" which he does whenever he can tell I'm having some big feelings, I had to answer, "Frustrated!" I did at least pull the interaction out of the gutter soon enough that, while I was still trying to get Max cleaned up, I was able to answer the next question with a smile: "Mommy, are you happy now?"

It may be natural for me to become frustrated in a sticky situation like this (pun intended), but I don't think it has to be. I'm hoping that our next stealthy ninja poo is a long way off, but also that I'll be ready to respond naturally with acceptance, a smile and a giggle. I don't have to let circumstances, however messy they are, determine how I feel.

For now I'll take one day at a time until eventually that unconditional way of life becomes a reality, not just a theory.

Day 75: Stranger Danger

My danger seeker ironically also happens to be my stranger danger baby.

With few exceptions, most family and friends get a look of terror, the world's cutest quivering lip and waterworks, sometimes even when he's in my arms. Of course he eventually warms up, but the initial interaction is nearly always challenging for him. If you've interacted with him and haven't experienced this, you're one of the special few whose energy must really put him at ease from the start.

Jackson never went through a phase like this, so I'm learning as we go. It's no stretch to accept that he wants to stay with me, but somehow the small part of me that's socially trained to think "polite" means compromising yourself to make sure no one ever feels uncomfortable still exists, and it stirs up a compulsive need to apologize or make excuses for him, sometimes even try to coax him into warming up before he's ready.

It seems so minor to us because our established relationships tell us there's nothing to be scared of, but to him it's clearly a major emotional upheaval and should be honored as such. So he's giving me lots of great opportunities to practice kind authenticity.

There is a "nice" way to honor his feelings and advocate for him. Although whether or not it's received as polite is up to the person involved, I suppose. But since a big part of how it's received has to do with whether it comes from a place of acceptance or resistance, I have a pretty significant say in the matter.

Am I focused on resisting a person's desire to take him from me or interact too soon? Or am I putting my energy into accepting his need for security and time to get reacquainted? The latter puts everyone at ease, especially him, so I'm working to stay present during these chaotic interactions instead of slipping into default and choosing the former.

I want to send Max a clear message that his feelings are valid and simultaneously show him that the person we're with and the environment we're in are safe. With a little practice, and a little patience from our family, I think we're getting there.

Day 65: Balancing Act

After a spectacular Holistic Moms Network meeting last night, I'm feeling refreshed and ready to tackle life again. But this time, in a whole new way.

I went into the meeting feeling pulled in too many directions, like there wasn't enough of me to go around and like my life was a balancing act gone wrong. I know this leaves me always-behind, hurried, and generally frantic, an energy I'm subjecting everyone in my life to, especially the kids.

I came out of the meeting with a renewed perspective, feeling capable and centered. The tools she gave us were really helpful, and I'm going to put them to good use to go from scattered to focused and from spread thin to covering my bases. But it was the meditation that pushed me over the frenzied hump.

After only a few brief, kid-interrupted minutes of meditation, I felt less physical tension, less stress, less resistance. I was calm. Not the kind I put on to try to provide a peaceful environment for the kids or to keep my craziness from spreading to other moms I'm with. The real kind. The kind I hadn't felt in a while, because I hadn't stopped moving in a while.

Being forced to just be, to not do, was more powerful than I'd imagined. The to-do list, expectations, responsibilities all slipped away, and they took all my tension with them. And in its place they left gratefulness, love, trust, and acceptance.

I didn't realize how long it had been since I had stopped. Other than vegging out with my husband after the kids are in bed, I literally haven't stopped since Max was born. And as much as I love Parenthood and Dexter, they're not exactly helping me find balance.

I've been approaching my responsibilities the same detrimental, default way I had been approaching internal power struggles. Push through, make it work, sheer force of will will get things done. But checking things off the list this way wasn't bringing any relief, and certainly no peace.

So my new balancing act - the act I am committing to in order to find balance - is to take ten minutes, the first ten minutes, of the boys' afternoon nap to just be.

Today that meant meditating and doing self-reiki along with the Lisa's CD, other days it might mean a ten-minute nap, ten minutes of prayer, or ten minutes of head-clearing silence. Whatever they look like, I'm committing to giving myself those ten minutes every single day so that my cup is full, maybe even over-flowing and able to fill up the people around me.

My hope is that this simple act will help me remain focused, actually make me more efficient, and more importantly bring a sense of peace and trust to my day that I can share with my kids.

So here's me trading stress for trust: I am enough. I am capable. I will accomplish what needs to be done. And I will do it with love and gratitude, because those are the reasons the list exists in the first place.

Day 61: Learning to Fail

Failure is not an option in a black-and-white world. Even small failures are associated with judgment, shame, inferiority, inadequacy, and worthlessness. I've always liked to live in my comfort zone, and it used to be that the rare occasion when I was forced out, I became a caged animal. Only I was on the outside of the cage pacing back and forth to get back in.

I tried the things I knew I'd succeed at, and avoided everything else at all costs. I almost never put myself out there if failure was a possibility, so after calculating my odds, I usually decided to stay where it was safe rather than jump.

As you can imagine, looking back in my life revels a sea of missed opportunities and things I never tried. It's a little sad to think about all the fun I could've had and abilities I could've developed if I had just taken a small step outside myself. But what's even more disappointing is realizing that passing on those things and the experiences they provided stunted my growth.

Limiting myself to comfortable experiences kept me from maturing into a well-rounded adult, and it's one of the reasons that I'm now learning so many life skills along side my two year old, sometimes at a slower rate than he is.

The beautiful thing about motherhood, is that I don't get the choice to stay comfortable. Failure is a daily occurrence, and there's no backing out or shying away from this job. It's in your face all day every day.

I've spent that past two and a half uncomfortable years working on basic things I could and probably "should" have figured out before I hit college. And now that I'm emerging from the bubble I created out of fear and insecurity, I'm realizing how exhilarating it is to take a chance, and how the process and experience trump the arbitrary success or failure at the end.

Repeatedly falling on my face and picking myself back up as a mother has opened my eyes to resilience and perseverance I never knew I had. It has taught me that who I am, how I see myself, and whether or not I'm okay does not ride on success or failure. And it shows my children what took me so long to learn; that failure is a necessary, useful and beautiful part of life.

Learning to accept and even welcome failure brings me one step closer to embracing freedom and trading in control for trust. And that is no small success.

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 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 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 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 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 37: Me, a Screamer? Couldn't Be!

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.

Just look at my sweet, innocent face. I couldn't possibly be the one behind those horrific, earsplitting shrieks. Or could I?

Don't let the cherubic, chubby cheeks and goofy grin fool you; this one's a screamer. And I'm not talking your run of the mill scream, here. Oh, no. This is the kind of scream that could prompt the neighbors to call protective services. 

And what do I do to elicit these bloodcurdling screeches? It's quite simple, really: Anything that doesn't meet his approval, especially if it's not addressed in a timely manner, which of course means immediately. My mild mannered first-born did nothing to prepare me for this. When Baby Jackson needed something, he'd quietly gurgle or squeak to let me know, then kindly let me finish my task. Baby Maxwell is not quite so gentile. In fact, sometimes I don't even get a warning. He just launches straight into the high-pitched "Aaaaaahhhhhhh!" And if I can't get there right away, it's followed by the "Eeeeeeeeeyyyyyyaaaaa!" that I'm pretty sure can only be heard by me and the neighborhood dogs. 

You may have noticed by now that there is no crying involved. No tears, no sad eyes. This kid is just downright pissed that he's not getting what he wants when he wants it, and he's going to let everyone know until I make it right. Right now my mother is reading this thinking, "Yep. That sounds about right." And although she's much too kind to say it, she's also feeling just a teeny bit of satisfaction as I get a taste of my own medicine. Well, Mom, I can officially say it now: You are a saint for surviving me. 

Raising an intense kid isn't going to be a walk in the park. Especially considering that Intense Mommy also likes to have her way. If I'm not careful, Max and I will go through life fighting each other for control at every turn. But if I manage to effectively nurture our relationship, we can reap the benefits of our shared intensity. We'll understand each other on a deeper level than we could without this shared trait. We'll be able to use our similarity to work through our differences. And if I play my cards right, he'll teach me to tame my intensity when appropriate so that I can help him do the same. 

For the present, I'll endure the screeching as I rush to meet his needs and dream of the future implications: A confident, assertive, passionate man who loves as fiercely as he used to shriek.

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.