Day 20: Testing, Testing

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.

Tests have always been my thing. Multiple choice, fill in the blank, short answer, essay...you name it, I'll ace it because I love answers. A test has a perfectly defined beginning and end, and with the end comes a sense of accomplishment and completion. Just talking about it makes me nostalgic for my college days.

Well, school's over and testing has taken on a whole new meaning. In fact, I don't think it's even fair to call any part of life or parenting a "test" because there is no end and there are certainly no answers. My favorite thing about school has become my least favorite thing about parenting. I'd like to say I've been acing the tests coming my way recently, but I'm not sure what a passing grade looks like.

In the past few days, Jackson has been experiencing tantrums. This is new and so out of character for him that it's really quite traumatic for all of us. It's very clear that they're coming as a result of his body's detox process, but that doesn't make them any easier to deal with in the moment. It's obvious he's feeling out of control, confused and conflicted when it happens, and don't I know none of those feel good. He'll ask me to leave, then scream louder when I move toward the door and beg me to stay. He'll say he wants to be held, then when he gets into my arms, he'll fight his way out, screaming. His body and brain are just saying "no" to everything and all he wants to do is say "yes" and feel calm. If the test is helping him find a way to calm down, I'm failing

This has led us to his first public outbursts. For the first time, I'm the mom with the kid lying on the floor of the store. It feels worse than I imagined. When it happens, the whirlwind of thought going on in my head is dizzying. It's hard to focus and get a grip on myself or him. If the test is avoiding a public scene, I'm failing.

 I'm acutely aware of each person walking by and watching, and I even find myself saying things to him that I'm hoping they hear: "Jackson this isn't appropriate behavior in the store. I want you to be respectful of the other shoppers. Do you see all these people? Your yelling hurts their ears and your body is in the way." If the test is tuning out the world to focus on him and the need he's expressing, I'm failing.

As the stress builds and the desire to avoid external judgment squeezes down on me, I find it harder to be patient. I start to physically remove him, which only makes matters worse because a lack of control over his world is what caused the ruckus to begin with. If the test is helping him feel powerful and in control of himself, I'm failing.

Eventually I'm able to talk him down. Maybe we identify something he wants or wants to do, then draw the connection between leaving the store and getting there. Maybe I identify what he wanted in the first place and can accommodate that need or find a suitable substitute. If the test is stopping the tantrum, I fail because time was up before I could finish filling in the little circles.

But If the test is surviving and even loving him through the storm, I think I'll give myself a passing grade. If it's acknowledging and allowing him to express the extreme unrest and discomfort that are accompanying his body's healing process, I'm pretty sure I'd get the credits. And if it's standing strong against the temptation to use fear, shame, bribery or punishment to manipulate him, I think I am acing it.

I'm teaching him that I really do love him unconditionally. He's seeing first hand that he is secure, that nothing could ever make me abandon him. And, although his little brain might not process it to the full extent, I'm showing him that he matters to me more than the shopping, more than the passersby, more than our schedule, and more than my own feelings. Because let's face it, it's embarrassing. And it would be easy to prioritize that feeling over your child's need for acceptance and support through a tantrum.

I may not like this new kind of test, especially since no one has the answer key, but I'm doing my best to rise to the challenge of living in the answer-less world of parenting. In the end, it'll probably be my kids who get to hand down the grades, and I can only hope that the work I'm doing to build a healthy relationship with them now will pay off when that day comes.

Day 4: Really Seeing, Really Hearing

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
Jackson has struggled with eczema since the first months of his life. We resisted the urge to treat the symptom, and instead took him to a homeopath to address the underlying issue. Doing this is an exercise in patience and faith because there's rarely immediate relief, and sometimes even a worsening before improvement. But in the big picture, we do see significant healing, inside and out.

Researching is like a drug for me (I like to have all the answers, you know!), so like I always do before any decisions are made in our home, I dove into homeopathy head first. I emerged with a greater understanding of mind/body connectedness and just how incredibly important it is to health and happiness. It was one more step out of the tiny little box I grew up in, one more stretch of my world view to include the vast and meaningful branch of life that can be labeled "unseen."

Although unseen is somewhat of a misnomer, because the evidence will smack you right in the face if you're willing to see it. I've watched as three tiny little white pellets containing nothing but the energetic form of a substance have not only slowly healed his skin, but erased a fear of water overnight, brought a surge of creativity and artistic capabilities overnight, prompted a rush of correctly used pronouns and perfectly composed sentences overnight. His healing continues as I continue to open my eyes further to the amazing unseen world that God created and so many of us are missing out on.

This journey has also allowed me to understand Jackson on a deeper level than I otherwise could have. As I see the world differently, I'm able see him differently. I can see through the behavior of the moment to who he really is and how he's experiencing his world. Because of that I can know that what looks as straightforward as an episode of hyperactivity is actually deep seated unrest that he's experiencing in both his body and mind. I can see that he's as disturbed by it as I am, and that deep down he's longing for peace in that moment as much as I am. What a gift that has been for our relationship.

So thank you, eczema, for all the growth you've stimulated in us. I think your work here is done now. But then again, the farther down we get on Eczema Avenue, the more we keep learning, so I suppose I can be patient a bit longer.

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
We saw a phenomenal woman who does electrodermal screening. She validated everything we're doing for Jackson's eczema (fish oil, vitamin D, probiotics, digestive enzymes) and confirmed my suspicions of a casein sensitivity and mild candida growth. She also validated my understanding of, relationship with, and choices for Jackson, but we'll save that for another day.

So now I have the cold hard facts and I really do have to rid myself of all dairy for at least four weeks. I have been fervently resisting this for four months. I "thought" dairy was contributing to Jackson's eczema and Max's reflux and gas, but in reality I knew. I was giving in to doubt because I didn't want to make the change that I know is best for all of us. But it's haaaaaarrrrrd. *sniff* Okay, whining over and time to accept. I can do this. I will do this. And when I do, we will all reap the benefits, so why resist! I shall think of it as trading cheese for more sleep and a more peaceful house.

I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive 
me nuts.
Max was given a gloworm for Christmas, which Jackson quickly claimed as his Baby Jesus. He loves to have Baby Jesus light up and sing to him as he "wraps him in cloth and lies him in the manger." The manger has been any number of places: the couch, a large stuffed animal, the rhinoceros ottoman, his bed.

Silly me, I didn't check the bed for Baby Jesus before putting Jackson down for his nap, and thus was treated to an hour long narrative of the adventures of Baby Jesus over the monitor. As I practiced acceptance instead of annoyance (yeah, me!) it finally became clear that he was not going to fall asleep until Baby Jesus ventured elsewhere. I walked in to find the pillow removed form its pillowcase, propped up on the railing and draped with his blanket to make "Rosie's wheelbarrow for Baby Jesus."

Default is to be irritated that he wasn't sleeping at nap time, but the better me says: I love that he can play so creatively and for so long with nothing but a gloworm. I love that he remembers and acts out things we read about. I love that he was content to let Baby Jesus sleep in the rocking chair while he took his nap with no negotiation or complaining. And I love that I got to listen to the sweet sound of his voice while I worked.

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 reads books in the car, and often rather than reading the story as is, he'll create his own scenarios to go with the pictures. He didn't want to leave the house this morning, but we had a schedule and I couldn't give him a choice. I didn't know it was a big deal until he found himself on a page with a Mommy Bunny and a Little Bunny, and this followed: "What's wrong Little Bunny? You're feeling sad? If you're feeling sad you can always come to Mommy Bunny. Mommy Bunny will always listen. What can we do about your sad feelings Little Bunny? Mommy Bunny will help you."

This opened up an opportunity to talk about the fact that he was sad because he wanted to stay home and pretend to cook in his kitchen, something I hadn't bothered to explore in the hurry to get out of the house. We also found out that being able to bring along one of his cooking tools would have helped him feel better about leaving. I didn't tune in and do what he needed me to do before we left. But I did take the open door he gave me to make it better for next time.

The Real About Me

Mothering is a daily adventure into uncharted territory. No one else has ever parented these children in this stage in this mood under these circumstances. Consequently, no one has the answers to any of our daily struggles - trust me, I've looked everywhere. It's like we're all playing a game with an opponent who gets to change the rules at will...without telling anyone.

I don't have the answers for anyone else, much less for myself, but I do know this: We're ALL struggling. And none of us are talking about it.

The Perfect Mom you see at the grocery store with the polite children in matching outfits, her hair styled and nails neatly manicured - she's a figment of your imagination. She has bad days, pajama and bedhead days, temper tantrum days, exhausted and frustrated days, even yelling and shaming days. I guarantee it. How do I know? Because I've been told I'm that mom. BAHahahahaha!!...Oh, sorry. Excuse the outburst. I've been told I look like I have it all together, like there's peace and harmony between me and my children, like I have a sense of calm about me...seriously.

But the truth is I'm just as much like the Real Mom at the grocery store, with the screaming kids knocking items off shelves, sweatpant-clad with food in her hair and fear in her eyes. We all have our good days and our bad days, triumphs and failures.

And in the end no matter how prepared we are, we're all winging it. We pick up tools as we go, learn by trial and error, and just pray everyone comes out on the other side in tact. I'm convinced that if we, as mothers, can start showing our authentic, imperfect selves to each other, we would find that the understanding, support and collective wisdom we gain will bring us that much closer to our own version of Perfect Mom.

So here's my real About Me:

I'm a control freak. When I can't control my circumstances (read: my two year old's behavior) I get angry. When I get angry, I yell. When I yell, I feel guilty. When I feel guilty, I get angry at myself for losing control. The more out of control I feel, the more I try to control my circumstances...and so the ugly cycle continues. It takes every ounce of strength I have to prevent this from being a daily occurrence.

I'm a pessimist, a real-life Debby Downer. I have an uncanny ability to see and assume the worst in every situation. The end of the world happens daily for me. It takes all my energy to choose to see the world, and sometimes even the people I love, in a positive light.

I live in a black and white world. Every question should have an answer, and I want all the answers. I naturally value justice over compassion and understanding. My tendency is to value being "right" over all else. It takes everything in me to see the gray that covers nearly all of life, and to choose cooperation over competition.

Except in my very closest relationships, I'm not good at being real. I assume that opening myself up will bring negative judgment from others (hello again, pessimism, my old friend). I place a very high value on privacy, often at the expense of intimacy and all the growth, joy, and satisfaction that comes with it. Vulnerability is terrifying (especially when you expect to be ridiculed, judged or attacked!) so it's easier to pretend I have it all figured out and put together, no help needed. And, drum roll please...It takes everything I have to just be me - the good, the bad, and the ugly - in front of anyone.

That's a list of my defaults. But I'm also loving, dependable, passionate, intelligent, loyal, a good listener, warm, fun-loving, determined, never satisfied with 'good enough' for myself or the people I love, and never satisfied with living in default mode. Above all else, I'm a mom who loves her children more than life, and who would do literally anything for them...even start a blog reveling her failures and weaknesses in an attempt to find balance and a better life for them!

With this much of myself to overcome in a day to be who I truly believe I am underneath all the baggage that comes with 26 years of life, I don't have the energy to waste on constructing a perfect facade anymore. I'm choosing to free myself of that, and to put that energy into actually *being* all the things I look like I am from the outside. Buckle up...It's going to be a bumpy ride.