Day 137: Adaptability

We're about to undertake a few big changes here, and I can feel the heart palpitations coming on already.

Our bedroom is too crowded to be liveable with the pack 'n play in it anymore. And because it's adjacent to the living room, we walk around on eggshells when Max is napping during the day. My shushing and scolding is causing so much tension between Jackson and I that I'm ruining the only solo time we have together by forcing us into power struggles about where he can play, with what and how loudly. The whisper shouting has got to end!

So tomorrow Jackson is moving to a new big-boy bedroom upstairs *tear* so that Max's bed can be moved to the "nursery." He's also finally asking to sleep in a big-boy bed, so once he's used to the new sounds and feel of his upstairs bedroom, it will be time for that transition too. I don't know if it's for him or me, but I think one major shift at a time seems more manageable.

This also means that Max will have his own room *gasp* which he will be napping in and hopefully starting the night in before coming to bed with us where he usually sleeps. In addition to the noise issues, we're thinking this will ease the eventual transition away from bed-sharing as he gets older. Jackson was in his own room at only two months, but it still seems so strange to move Maxwell so far away at nine months. He's spent every night of his life snuggled up next to me, and even the first steps toward the beginning of the end of that are a little tough. 

I'm reminding myself that they are ready for these changes and that they are adaptable, that kids are so adaptable if we let them be. But there's still a twinge of anxiety. Because as a general rule, I don't like change (read: I fear change). Knowing what to expect provides a sense of security, even if what I can expect is something I don't like! And stepping outside of that predictability - even with the prospect of major improvements - requires faith and trust in myself, in them, and in the God who works all things together for good.

I don't want to find security in circumstances anymore. It leads to fear and makes me a neurotic control freak! I want my security to be unchangeable. I want to be confident that we will all be okay even if things aren't perfect or predictable, and to embrace the unconditionality of life that I so often reject. We are all capable of adapting to this and to much bigger things, and I want to give the boys an opportunity to practice being flexible and welcoming change.

Which leads me to the obvious question: What's the worst that can happen? Because a few sleepless nights and a few days of nap struggles are so insignificant, especially when weighed against all the positive things that will come from these changes. And I also have to remind myself that trying something new doesn't mean we're committed. We do what works for our family, and if we make changes that don't work we can always go back to what did.

Inviting these changes with enthusiasm is a step, small though it may be, toward faith and trust. I will anticipate great things and accept growing pains that may come with confidence that we'll all learn something valuable as we're drawn out of our comfort zones. And most importantly, I'll allow the boys to decide for themselves how they feel about it all instead of projecting my fears or expectations onto them.

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 21: Attached or Trapped

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 was away from Max last night for about two hours and he was not all too happy with me when I got back. He wouldn't allow me to be more than two feet from him the rest of the night. He refused to go down by himself, so he had to stay up until I went to bed, and he woke more frequently, even complained a little in the night, which he never does. His world had clearly been shaken by my absence. 

The thought of how seriously he responded to such a minor separation started to become a little overwhelming. My negative side started to feel trapped by this. Will I ever get to go on a date with my husband again? Will I ever meet up with friends without a baby on board? How can I ever leave if I know it upsets him so much?

I was very conscious about creating a secure attachment with Maxwell. He was in my arms almost his entire first three days. In five months, he's never had a bottle, and I don't intend for that to change. Every feeding of his life has been with me. Every nap and every bed time has been with me. As he grows, those things will change, but for now this is the life I've chosen and I wouldn't go back and do it any differently. 

I'm so glad he and I are this in sync. Mothers and babies were designed to be as one until baby grows ready to venture out, and I'm proud of myself for respecting that biologically predetermined need in my children. I know that investing in this attachment now means I'll have a very self-assured and independent boy in the future. And I know that it's temporary. The sacrifices I make to foster this attachment are minuscule in comparison to the joy I get from seeing him health, happy and secure. 

Slowly non-baby outings will increase and he'll have the opportunity to learn that when I go, his needs are still met (albeit in a different way by a different person) and that I always come back. I will work on finding a balance between protecting our attachment and allowing him certain growing experiences, and we will get there. But for the time being, instead of trapped, I choose to feel honored to be loved and needed so intensely.

Day 3: Teaching Each Other, Teaching Ourselves

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I was pissed. The house was a mess, Max was struggling to fall asleep, it was already 1:30pm (waaaaay too late to just be starting nap time), and I had a to-do list hanging over my head that I knew wasn't going to be touched. I was experience internal chaos, and it pissed me off. I could tell that Jack was picking up on it as I was helping him into his comfy pants for his nap (because he picks up on everything), so I said, "Jackson, I'm feeling really really frustrated right now." He looked at me thoughtfully, raised his hand to touch me, and in the sweetest voice you've ever heard half-whispered, "Calm. Calm. Calm. Calm." as he gently stroked my hair. Just like that, the chaos was replaced by utter contentment and peace. And that change in my energy was met with, "Mommy feels better now."

My inability to cope with life at that moment gave Jackson an opportunity to practice a really valuable skill. He got to see that, at only two years old, he is able to make a big difference in his world and mine. I got to see that when I model these tools to him it matters, really matters. It was a great reminder that, even though I sometimes model negative reactions, it does not erase all the positive things I give him.

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
Jackson ran away from me at the grocery store. This has never happened before because he's always been in the cart. But today we took the fancy cart with the car on front for him to drive. The car he can get in and out of at will. I did my best to assume things would go well, but if I'm honest, I pictured him having a tough time staying in the whole time since we had a pretty long list. So when we rounded the corner past Mr. Cow, he jumped out, looked at me with sheer glee, and ran.

I had a choice to make. I could be the mom running down the aisle after him yelling, but Max was in the sling and Jack would probably out run me. I could be the mom who walks away to scare him into coming back, which would scar my sensitive little boy for life. Or I could be the mom who waits patiently until he's ready to come back on his own, which makes me feel "permissive" even though I know better.

So I stood there and waited with a smile on my face. I took in the sweet laughter. I watched him run to the end of the aisle and gaze into the ice cream freezer to see the pretty colors, having no idea he was looking at mommy's nemesis. I watched him turn to see if I was reacting, then sit down with a huge smile on his face and talk to himself happily. Then I watched the smile disappear as he looked to his right at what I can only imagine to be a rather large man who was smiling at him just out of my line of sight. Then I heard that wonderful word, "Mommy!" He said it again as he ran back to me, much faster than he had run away.

If I had resisted this behavior, I would have cheated him out of that valuable lesson he learned all on his own. They say what we resist persists, and indeed, if I had cheated him out of that lesson, I dare say running the aisles would become our grocery store routine. He needed freedom and room to figure out that the behavior I wanted to see in him, staying in the car with me, was also the behavior that made him feel safe and happy. I'm so proud that I gave that to him this time, because there are so many times I don't. I guess we both learned a lesson.

I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive 
me nuts.
Jackson keeps putting his hand, food, utensils, and anything else he can reach, in his water glass at meal time. I can't stand it. Cups are for drinking and any other creative use of them just isn't right. Oh, wait. Did I say creative? That's right. He's using his imagination, exploring his world, finding out how things work. Duh, Mom. Get over it!

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 has a great routine. He knows what to expect in his day and roughly when and how, and it gives him security so he can learn and grow. Max is not so lucky. I feel like I'm cheating him out of this because our life doesn't allow for three consistent naps and a consistent bed time. In fact, life isn't even allowing for any kind of sleeping routine like reading before he goes down, because the window to get him down is so small we just have to get to it. But he's happy, he's learning, and he's growing. It's not a coincidence. It's because of all the other constants - breastfeeding, bedsharing, ECing, interacting - that provide security just the same. I can let myself off the hook for this one. Someday when we aren't juggling as many naps, we will start a routine. It's never too late. And he won't be illiterate if I don't read to him four times a day before he sleeps.