Day 64: Alone Time

I tend to be a bit of an introvert (shocking, I know). As such, I really value alone time. And although I don't get much of it these days, what little I do get refreshes me and keeps me going on the days I want to throw up my hands and walk away never to return (I know you know the days I'm talking about!). But introvert or not, sometimes what I need is a hug, a good conversation or just some good ol' fun.

Jackson's going through a temporary aggravation period after taking a homeopathic remedy on Sunday, and he's been struggling with insomnia, hyperactivity, and feeling generally out of control. From experience I know that these are all things that leave him overwhelmed and unable to cope with even the smallest stressor.

Needless to say, the day so far has been full of melt-downs and freak-outs. Oh, and he's had a tough day too.

I've got lots of work piling up, so I'm feeling pressure to try to get things done while the kids are awake. This is usually a disaster because either they or my work has to suffer - I can't give 100% to both. But sometimes half-assed work is better than uncompleted work, so I gave it a shot again today.

I was expecting Jackson to resist my decision to work, to try to divert my attention to him. Instead, he plopped himself down in his bedroom and read book after book to himself. It turned out that the time I spent working was the time he felt most centered and calm today, the time he was most himself.

Quite simply, he needed some alone time. And I didn't see it.

All morning I felt like I had to be by his side to help him through a tough day. I was focused on how patient and present I needed to be. I felt "shoulds" raining down on me when I put my attention anywhere else. But only because I wasn't tuning in.

I was thinking about what a mother should do for a struggling child instead of what I should do for my struggling child today.

There are days when all he needs is me, present and patient. But not today. I didn't grant him the respect of allowing his needs to change until I stumbled upon it by accident. Today was a great reminder to listen to what his behavior tells me about his needs, to ask him what he needs, and not to assume that his needs are static.

It's no less true for him at two than it is for me as an adult: The same need must be met in different ways on different days.

Day 59: Yesterday's Explosion

This is a scary title on a parenting blog.

Right now you're thinking back to the time your child managed to mimic a toy chest explosion, spewing each and every item onto the floor. Or you're remembering a time when you or your child exploded in rage, grief or joy. Maybe it's conjuring up images of your child sick with the flu...enough said.

I can identify with those explosions, but the kind we experienced yesterday was of a different, much less messy kind. Jackson and I repeated two doses of the homeopathic Candida nosode. And like we often see with remedies, he went through a developmental explosion.

He's been interested in spelling since his second birthday, and in the past few weeks, he's taken a mild interest in the letter sounds. We read books about the "v" sound and others and about word building, and while he really enjoyed the books (in other words made me read them over and over), that was as far as it went.

The day he took the remedy, he came up with his first spontaneous use of a letter sound, "V. Vuh. Vere you go Daddy!" And while he wasn't quite right, it was clear the concept of how the letter, the sound and the word related had suddenly come alive to him. The fascinating thing was that we hadn't read any of those books in days.

Then last night, while I was working and paying much less attention to him than he or I wanted, he climbed up next to me on the couch and started looking at his letter puzzle. All of a sudden he was grabbing letters, most we'd never read a book or talked about, and relating their sounds to words. "S. Ssssss. Song! W. Wuh. Wow! M. Muh. Mouse!" And he kept it up all night long.

Little Scholar

This was also the first week in our parent-child class that he has chosen to do actions with the group during our singing circle time - usually he'll do them at home when it's the two of us singing, but just watch when we're at school.

Also new with this remedy are unprompted "I love yous" and "I missed yous" and tons of out-of-the-blue compliments: "Mommy, I like you just the way you are" (If that doesn't make your heart melt...!).

Of course you take the good with the bad, because an intensification of symptoms always precedes the healing. He's been dealing with fear of having things taken from him, wanting to nurse more often, struggling to respond rather than react (explode, if you will), and feeling overwhelmed and out of control for no (or little) apparent reason.

But it's beautiful to see these amazing developments come through all that chaos and to watch his body do what it was designed to do: move toward physical and emotional balance.

When we started this journey with eczema, what I wanted for him was physical healing - as fast as possible. Now that I see how this transformational process is affecting him inside as much as out, I welcome the long road. No quick fix would be worth sacrificing the whole mind and body healing he's experiencing.

Sometimes the long road seems...well, long. But it's like choosing between the freeway and the scenic route: Both can get you to the same destination, but taking the scenic route and enjoying the view means arriving calm, renewed, and with a fresh, broadened perspective instead of hurried, distracted, and with the same tunnel vision you started with.

Day 14: Toddlers Don't Like Diets

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.

We all took the homeopathic nosode for candida yesterday and Jackson woke up with the healthiest skin he's had in a year. Yay! But part of the process of banishing the yeast from our bodies is abstaining from all forms of sugar (even fruit) and most carbs, even starchy vegetables. Boo! The "okay to eat" list is not very long. I can personally attest to the fact that this is NO fun, especially when you still have intense cravings for bread and sugar. And I can only imagine how much worse it is when you don't even understand why.

All of a sudden all of Jackson's favorite "green-light foods" (foods that are good for our bodies) are off-limits. This is more than a little confusing, I'm sure. So I'm doing my best to explain...over and over and over and over. Doing this for at least a week could go one of two ways. It could get easier because he'll adapt and stop asking for the things he's missing, or it could get more and more miserable each day as the frustration over not having those things builds. I'm trying hard to assume the best, but I'm prepared for the worst.

I'm using this as an opportunity to be very thankful that my two year old is able to comprehend our explanations, and that he's the kind of person who looks for reasons to be happy, not upset. He's also incredibly flexible, and even capable of watching other people have things he can't without throwing a fit. Sometimes that's a stretch even for adults! I'd like to think this is because he's got superior cognitive skills or because I've given him the right tools to cope with situations like this, but it's probably more likely that he's just an agreeable little person (thank you to Daddy's genetics).

As we head into this week, I'm trying to mentally prepare. When candida dies off and releases toxins, some pretty nasty symptoms can arise: fatigue (check), headache (check), irritability (check), nausea (oh, I hope not), abdominal pain (no, thanks). And that's to say nothing of how crabby I'll be every time I look at a piece of bread or pass a brownie in the bakery aisle!

The goal is to constantly keep in mind that he's struggling as much as I am and to give him room to feel however he needs to feel about this. I am the adult. I am capable of the kind of patience it will take to handle all of this gently and lovingly, without expressing my own frustration. I will focus only on the things that will help us survive this week, and let go of any extras that will add pressure or drain my patience. I will help him find the positives in this, like all the avocado you can eat and something new: "lemonade" (lemon water, but don't tell him!) just like Max and Ruby drink.

The phrases I will latch on to this week: This is only temporary. Life will be back to a better version of normal in a few weeks.

Instead of being bummed about what I can't eat, I will be excited about the healing we're all undertaking and how great life will be when everyone is healthy. Okay...I'm still going to be pretty bummed about what I can't eat. But at least I can add the positive spin, right?

Day 6: Superpowers

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.


This summer as I was running with Jackson in the jogger and my huge pregnant belly hanging out the bottom of my tank top, a stranger smiled at me and said, "Super Mom, eh?" I smiled back and looked down at my little pre-two angel, my miniature best friend who came with me everywhere I went. I pondered our utopian life of sunshine, splashpads, and jogging to farmers markets, libraries and parks, and thought, "Yeah. Maybe I am."

Fast forward to the present and I feel like anything but Super Mom. My house is a disaster. I now find myself at odds with my definitely-two angel far too often. There's not enough of me to adequately meet the needs of my husband and both my children. And I literally want to cry when I think about how far off in the future we will be when I'm finally able to meet my own needs of running, reading and relaxing.

This experience has opened me, made me more understanding, less critical and more compassionate. It's something that will allow me to relate to and support other mothers in a way I never could have before. It's pulled me from my black and white world where clean floors, "perfect" children, and a completed to-do list are necessary to feel happy, to a world where dust doesn't matter, children learn about real life, and the things on the to-do list are unimportant in comparison to the things that can't be tallied. This is a world beyond happiness, a world of contentment.

Do I wish the growing process could be a little less painful? You bet! But the lessons are worth every difficult moment. So I'll still don the cape, but now I'm a different kind of Super Mom. The kind who is able to prioritize relationships over tasks and who is able to see the fellow superhero in every mom.

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
Jackson and I have taken ECFE classes since he was just a few weeks old. It's a place he knows and loves. But today we went to our first class of the new semester in a different room with different friends, different toys, and different teachers. We came a few minutes late (no surprise there), so all the eight other kids, four moms and three teachers were playing and talking. It was loud, busy, a lot for anyone to walk into, but especially my sensitive, peace-loving little boy.

He was excited to be there, excited about all the new people and things, excited about all the activity he was about to be a part of. But he was also overwhelmed. He found favorite toys, one after another, and started hoarding (something tied to the current homeopathic remedy we're using for his eczema, but also a sign that he was overwhelmed). He started yelling, "No. You can't have these toys." as he looked frantically around the room.

Now let me tell you about all the external pressure I was feeling. I was feeling "rude" for not being able to go introduce myself to the other moms and new teachers. I was feeling the expectation was for me to stop him from yelling or force him to put toys down. I was feeling the other adults would make judgments about my child based on this first impression, and by association, judgments about me. I was feeling like I wanted him to show them what a kind and gentle kid he is instead of what he looked like in that moment.

But I ignored all of that. I accepted how he felt and how he was communicating it to me. I acknowledged his feelings, we found a quiet step to sit on, and we talked about being overwhelmed. I stayed close because I know I have to be his calm in the storm when he feels that way in a chaotic environment. And within minutes he was going around the room finding new friends to give his favorite toys to: "Would you prefer to play with this?" "Here, you can have a turn with this." "What's your name?" "Would you like me to make you some toast?" All of a sudden he was thriving in this environment that was initially so challenging for him, and he no longer needed my help.

And wouldn't you know, I still got the chance to talk with all the moms and teachers. Their kids took turns yelling too. And those expectations were probably all in my head to begin with. Glad I'm working on my acceptance superpower!

I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
Max is obsessed with his penis. He's four months old and he literally can't stop grabbing his crotch. Diaper changes: Crotch. Bath time: Crotch. Potty time: Crotch. It wouldn't drive me so nuts, but his hand is always in the way, making these tasks very difficult to accomplish. I was giving him some diaper free time on the floor the other day and walked in the room to find him lying on top of his arm, face on the rug...you guessed it: Crotch.

I love that he's, um, focused? Curious? In tune with his body? Well, I do know that I love that he makes me laugh. I just hope this isn't a prelude to a really awkward stage in adolescence...

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.
Only six days in and I can log a success! Jackson's carrots ended up in his cup along with his straw at lunch time. You better believe I saw it, but I chose to ignore it and let him continue. We talked about other things, sang a song, and he made some cute comment about the carrots tasting sweeter when he dipped them in the water. He played and ate for a short while, looking up a handful of times to see what my reaction was going to be. Then, because he has to verbalize all observations, he said with a smile, "Mommy didn't notice I put my carrots in my water."

This could have been a power struggle, it could have ended in one or both of us feeling really frustrated. Instead he got to play and we got to interact peacefully and happily. And the world kept spinning, even though carrots don't belong in cups.

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.