Day 74: Label-Free Living

Trying on the 'lounge singer' role

One of the things I'm loving about Jackson's current stage of development is the imaginative play. Throughout the day he becomes any one of a host of characters, and includes Max and I by giving us roles to play along.

With a play sword he's the Grand Duke. When he dumps out his pillow and dons the case or steps into my shoes, he's Cinderella in a beautiful gown and glass slippers. Sometimes I suddenly find myself talking to Max the Bunny (not to be confused with Max the baby), Prince John, Pooh, or Baby Bear (of the Three Bears). I only know this because when I address him as Jackson I'm corrected: "No, Mommy. Max the Bunny would like more hummus."

These adventures in role play allow him to put on various identities at the drop of a hat. He can be curious and mischievous, strong and masculine, sweet and dainty (that's right, I said it...dainty...Sorry, Daddy), the possibilities are endless.

Whether it's the cause or effect I'm not sure, but the beauty of this is that it shows his totally fluid view of himself. He's not boxed in by who anyone says he is, by his experiences or past choices, or by any label he's come to accept. He's free to just be whoever he is in the moment, without having to perform to some external expectation or interpretation of who he is.

I'm doing my best to avoid playing the label game, to describe his choices or his behavior rather than his person. When he's showing off his spelling skills, instead of calling him a smart boy (*cringe*), I acknowledge how hard he worked to figure the word out or how he was paying close attention to notice the way two words rhymed. Instead of telling him he's sensitive, I try to talk to him about how he notices other people's feelings and pays attention to how he feels about things.

I can look back and see how being "the smart one" or "the serious one" kept me from developing and appreciating my creativity and sense of humor. Being labeled "rebellious" and "strong-willed" certainly didn't help me tap into my innate desire to bring harmony and cooperation to my world.

I don't want him to get bogged down in a few dominant pieces of himself and neglect or fail to ever see the rest. Nor do I want him to only be able to see himself through my eyes, with my judgment of his capabilities and traits, strengths and weaknesses.

This is no small task. Labeling is a huge part of our cultural language and definitely a huge part of my own language.

Training myself away from using labels has been a process, but I see the fruits of that labor every time Jackson shows me a new dimension of himself or tries on a new identity to see if it fits. I can only hope that giving him this space and freedom in his early years will make the labels the rest of the world will try to place on him so ill-fitting that he'll merely shake them off and continue on just being who he is.

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 53: Hand in the Hunny Pot

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I will choose acceptance over resistance.
I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
I will choose to extend the same grace, love and forgiveness to myself that I try to lavish on my husband and children each day.

Jackson's favorite activity as of recent is rummaging through the pantry. He builds towers out of cans and jars, he "cooks," and he "organizes" it for me. His other new favorite is drinking out of a shot glass he found in the basement cupboards (I definitely never envisioned that when I bought the old college relic!). Today he decided to combine his two favorites into one new, exciting activity.

We had just gotten home, so I was letting Max potty before starting lunch. Jackson was in the kitchen waiting patiently and playing with his little cooler. Or so I thought.

I heard the pantry door open, but thought nothing of it. He's never really gotten into any trouble in there. Then I heard a jar hit the counter. I figured he was organizing again and just had to get some things out of the way so he could rearrange. Then it was quiet. Too quiet.

I got Max dressed and rushed to the kitchen where I saw Jackson with the shot glass to his lips, a noticeably less full, dripping jar of honey sitting next to him. All I could think about were the little candida cells inside him throwing a party because their famine was over.

Cue the slow-motion: I yelled, "Nooooooo!" and yanked the glass from his hands. Unfortunately this was followed up by a frantic and too loud, "Jackson, oh no! Why did you eat the honey!? How much did you eat? It's not okay to just grab things and eat them! This is so bad!"

This reaction was understandably met with tears. He didn't know that I wasn't calling him bad. He didn't know that I wasn't disappointed in him. So I gave him a hug and had to explain that I wasn't upset with him, that sweet foods made his itchies come back and I reacted so strongly because I was worried about that, not because of him.

He quickly recovered and explained that he was Pooh Bear drinking honey from the bees. I can just imagine his excitement when he found the hunny pot and transformed into his chubby-little-cubby alter ego. That spontaneous, effortless leap into imaginative play must feel exhilarating. And that must have made the abrupt and intense interruption even more alarming.

I want to be responsive, not reactive. Reactivity is explosive, even when I don't mean it to be. It's scary and confusing for Jackson when I react. But when I respond, he understands, he feels understood, and he learns.

Ultimately this has everything to do with control versus trust, but that shift is going to be a long process. In the meantime, I'll be searching for ways to catch myself in the split-second moment between recognizing what's happening and reacting to it.

Maybe cultivating a habit of turning around and walking away to process would help, but sometimes a situation requires immediate intervention. What helps you cage your reaction so you can thoughtfully respond?

Day 12: PJ Money

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.

PJ Money, while it sounds like a flashy hip hop persona, was really just a reminder to try to see the world as he sees it. I've gotten lots of these recently. I'm learning to ask why he's doing something before making a judgment about whether it should continue or whether I should be bothered by it. Nearly every time he's got an explanation that makes perfect sense, and it usually involves his imagination.

Back to PJ Money. Jackson was up from his nap, Max was still sleeping. When this happens, I find it's best for Jack to be in a non-adjacent space. Not necessarily because the noise will wake Max, but because it keeps me from turning into a crazy person shushing in Jack's face every few seconds (still working on transforming that resistance into acceptance!!). So we go to the basement or upstairs playroom or stay in his bedroom when he wakes up. 

Six books in to the large stack of books he wanted to read, we landed on one with caricatural drawings of wacky pets - an elephant, a giraffe, a huge snake, a coyote. Mr. Coyote became is playmate for the rest of the afternoon. They had deep conversations about life, shared a few laughs, and for some reason Jackson had to pay him money. He revealed at bed time that this friend he was so enthusiastic about was actually scary, so in hindsight maybe it was a bribe to remain uneaten by Mr. Coyote.

Whatever the case, it was very important to pay Mr. Coyote his money. That money just happened to be in the form of pajamas. I don't know about your family, but in our family, Grandmas love to give PJs. There are a lot of PJs. And all of said PJs were methodically ripped, pair by pair, from the neatly folded piles in the dresser. 

I watched in horror. All I could think about was the time it was going to take to re-fold them. By pair three or four, when it became clear that Mr. Coyote was not going to be satisfied until he had Jackson's every last cent, I started to say, "Jackson, I think he has enough money. I don't think we need to take any more pajamas out of the drawer." He gave me a confused look. Mr. Coyote's fee was clearly more than four pair of pajamas. We were at a crossroads, and as always, I was driving the bus. I got to decide how this interaction played out. 

Focusing on my own need for neatly folded PJs and a two year old who never takes or leaves anything out of place (HA!) could end in a cinema-worthy bus explosion, flames shooting out from the windows. Prioritizing his need for freedom to engage in imaginative play would bring us all safely to our destination singing "wheels on the bus" as we went. Hmmmmm...what to do, what to do...

Fortunately I took off the me-shades and put on the we-shades. What was best for all of us was for me to see the world from his eyes for a moment. To cherish the beautiful and sophisticated creative play he was allowing me to witness. The joy on his face when I explained that I had changed my mind, that he could go on paying Mr. Coyote in PJ Money, was all the payoff I needed to make up for 10 minutes of re-folding. 

Soon the drawer was empty, but still Mr. Coyote was not satisfied. So Jackson did the next logical thing. He filled the drawer with books and went on with the transaction, all the while chatting away with his new friend. We were both captivated, he by Mr. Coyote, and me by him.

I could have stolen this experience from both of us, maybe even chipped away at his desire to see these infinite possibilities in the world around him. I may have damaged his spirit by rejecting the way he was expressing himself through play, forcing him into my adult world instead. Sometimes that's necessary, and it is, of course, part of how children eventually learn about the real world, how to fit into and function in it. But so is this type of creative play! The times when I'm able to give him freedom to get fully lost in the wonder of his childhood, I hope I will. The real world will always be there waiting for him; his childhood is going to quickly pass us both by.
 

Day 5: When You Win, I Win

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
Jackson is newly DVD obsessed. This was a tough one to log under the negative-into-a-positive category. I like to do things "right", and a two year old watching DVDs isn't right in a black and white world. Before Max came along, I could do almost everything right, and that meant Jackson had no screen time whatsoever before he turned two. Once I started trying to juggle two kids along with running a household and working from home, I ran out of options. I couldn't give him my undivided attention or fill his day with child-centered outings anymore, nor could I expect him to entertain himself for hours on end.

Cinderella's ball gown

It started innocently enough. We would only watch a DVD if Mommy had to work longer than 45 minutes. Then we hit a rough patch with naps and we added 'when his body needed to stay restful and Mommy couldn't sit and read books' to the parameters. Then it turned into a way to keep him occupied while I put Max down for a nap, and before you know it we're watching Cinderella almost daily. Only Cinderella, by the way. Don't try to suggest anything different, he's not interested. It's a hard pill to swallow, but it's where we're at. Having two children, especially this close together means that sometimes we do what we have to do to get through the day, not what's ideal.

The positive is he's not satisfied with plopping on the couch. He draws while he watches, he talks to Gus Gus and Jaq (I'm proud to say I know it's spelled that way because we also read the book, haha!), or he cooks while it's on. The other positive is that he's able to use it as a framework for imaginative play. He's constantly pretending we're the step sisters and Max is Cinderella, or that we're Jaq and Gus and Max is Lucifer the cat. Or that a homer hanky is "Cinderella's beauuuutiful ball gown." Just like with books, he can take elements of the story and create his own version.

The DVD is no substitute for independent play or interaction with me, which he still gets plenty of, but it's not ruining his life either. At least he isn't getting sucked into becoming a screen zombie, even if it is on more than I'd like.

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
With Max in the sling, I pushed the car seat on the stroller with one hand and held Jackson's hand in the other as we walked through Target. He had found a foam sword in the $1 section at the front of the store, and I decided it was a dollar worth spending to keep him occupied while we shopped sans cart.

We miraculously made it all the way across the store without incident when we came to the toilet paper aisle. There I saw a large section of empty, ground-level shelving next to the Charmin. There he saw a veritable wonderland with bears to talk to while they watched him...excuse me...while they watched "the King and the Grand Duke" play with a sword. (Why yes, that is another Cinderella reference.) I let him play while I agonized over a toilet paper, then a kleenex purchase before coming to him to explain it was time to go. This is where the struggle of wills usually begins.

I explained why we needed to keep moving, that Grandma DeGia was going to be waiting for us at our house, that we couldn't take our sword home until we paid for it, things I thought might internally motivate him to come instead of imposing it on him. No such luck today.

So do I drag him to the front by the hand crying? Maybe if I pick him up and carry him it won't be so bad. He's not so big, maybe he can still fit in the infant car seat...

When I stopped trying to devise a way to force him into what I wanted him to do, it dawned on me... Maybe he can tell me what he needs before he's ready to leave. So I asked. Turns out he needed to say goodbye to the bears before he ended their picnic, and he needed to be assured we would go see the leprechaun on our way out (he gets a kick out of walking down the cereal aisle to check out the Lucky Charms box). It was that simple this time.

So instead of resisting him and subjecting the store to a tantrum and him to the trauma of being deprived of power over his own body and life, I got to accept that he had needs that were as valid as my need to leave the store and meet them. Through the cooperative lenses I try to put on over my black and white eyes, this is an obvious example of how meeting everyone's needs is possible and doesn't require sacrificing the "win." Even through my competitive default lenses that say when one person gets what they want the other loses, I'd still call this one a win-win!

I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.

If we stayed home for all of Max's naps and Jackson's nap, we would never leave the house. Until recently, Max could sleep in a sling pretty much anywhere, but it seems this is slowly changing. At best he'll fall asleep after we're out for 30-60 minutes, which usually means he only gets to sleep a very short time before he's woken up to go back in his car seat and head home.

This is quite inconvenient since a tired baby isn't all that much fun. But I will instead focus on the fact that he is giving us a window into his developing personality. He's curious, engaged and loves to observe. He's learning as he watches and listens, and he wants to be an active participant in his world. At four months, these are very cool qualities.

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 often have to stand face to face with my past mistakes because I'm the mother of a child who never forgets. Literally, never forgets. In the past I've let this be another catalyst for beating myself up and feeding the cycle. Today I celebrated. 


In the middle of a happy and peaceful breakfast, with no prompting at all Jackson suddenly blurted out, "Mommy, something happened when someone yelled at me." So I asked, "Who yelled at you?" and got the dreaded but expected answer: "Mommy." I followed up with the obvious, "What happened when Mommy yelled at you?" And was met with the even more horrific, but still expected, "I felt scared." 


Now I know he gets scared when I yell, even though he doesn't act like it in the moment (heck I get scared when I yell) and we've talked about it and I've apologized after every single time it has happened. But there was something about the spontaneity of this pronouncement that cut me to the core like never before. That those feelings stick for so long and are so pervasive that they effect him days and weeks later is sobering. 


The celebration came after the devastation passed. He trusted me enough to tell me. He trusted me to understand and honor the way I made him feel, not blow it off as something in the past or something that didn't matter. He trusted me to be able to handle hearing something honest about myself and respond with love and acceptance. And he followed up his observation with the declaration: "Mommy would never hurt me, and she loves me even when she's angry. I'm always safe with Mommy." I can only hope that he internalizes those words along with the fear that I've caused, and that I can internalize the lesson he taught me today. This will be a catalyst for change, not for wallowing in self-hatred.

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.

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.

Day 2: Am I Really Doing This?

Most days I feel like I'm nose-above-water with an anchor tied to my ankle, so it seems a little crazy to undertake one more thing that requires a daily commitment. But the reason I struggle with positive parenting in the first place is because priorities are all too easily jumbled in the busyness of life. So I guess a daily reminder to keep my children at the top of the list and to stay present with my goals is something worth making time for.

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
Day 2: Jackson throwing his fork, then broccoli on the floor because he's angry isn't "bad behavior." It's his way of showing me that he's aware of his needs and feelings, that he trusts me enough to let me see them, and that he needs my help managing them. This was his way of expressing that he was angry and sad because Daddy had to leave, and I'm so grateful he didn't just "behave" and sit alone with those feelings.

I believe my child's behavior is always motivated by a deep desire to have his needs met. Those needs are never as simple as 'wanting to make me mad' or 'acting out'. Each behavior that elicits a negative feeling from me is nothing more than an earnest attempt to communicate those needs. I have to work hard (really hard!) to act on this conscious belief rather than the unconscious beliefs I've internalized from others.

My job isn't to correct his behavior, it's to identify the need he's trying to show me through his actions and meet him there without judgment. Each time I do this, I reinforce that our home and our relationship is a safe place for him to feel and to be as he is, that he is loved the same when he's angry as when he's cheerful, and that he is understood and accepted. My job is also to offer him the tools he needs to communicate those needs in healthier, more effective ways. Modeling is the most important way to do this, and also happens to be the most difficult for this big-feelings Mom! Is it any wonder he throws something to communicate that he's angry, when he's watched me do the same?

Each time I ignore the real issue and treat the symptom, I chip away at the relationship I've spent two years building, especially the trust and security he so desperately needs. This happens all too often...hence the blog!

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
Day 2: Max has decided that he would like to wake up in the middle of his afternoon nap, the only quiet time mommy has to accomplish things, to poo. I consistently nurse him well in advance of nap time and offer him the potty multiple times before laying him down, but he has decided that a poo before nap just isn't his thing. I can let it bother me every day and ruin my afternoon, I can fight it by trying even harder to encourage pre-nap poos, OR I can simply accept that for now, this is what works for him. I can anticipate it, work it into my schedule, and release myself from the dread of interruption. Maybe I can even enjoy the quiet opportunity to spend a few minutes with him while Jackson's sleeping...even if it is for poo.


I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.

 Day 2: As I was packing the 6-month-sized clothes away and exchanging them for the next size (already?!), Jackson insisted on rifling through all the neatly folded piles to find things that would fit on or over his head. My first reaction was to get annoyed and make him stop, but when I saw how goofy he looked with a tiny little shirt hanging from his head, I decided to cherish his love of dress-up play instead. In the end this meant that I got intense joy out of watching him play, especially once he donned his first Halloween costume complete with yogurt bucket hat, self-made bead necklace, playdough scissors, and basket of food on his way to "hang out with Cinderella's step-sisters."

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. 
Day 2: Jackson was unruly at bedtime. His eczema was flaring up for the first time in two weeks and the manic behavior usually comes with it. He was climbing the walls, almost literally. Instead of acknowledging that he was feeling out of control and just as overwhelmed as I was, I chose to bark demands at him. "Control your body," knowing full well he couldn't. "Calm yourself down," knowing he wasn't capable, especially not on his own.

I felt overwhelmed by the level of activity, angry that I had completely lost control of the situation, frustrated that after weeks of success on a new plan of action for his eczema we were hitting our first obstacle, guilty because it might have been the pizza I ate the night before that was causing the flare up. And the icing on the cake is that I'm fully aware in the moment of the fact that I'm failing him, and rather than latching on to that as a way to change direction, I feed into the problem by letting it make me feel angry at myself for not being able to remain calm! Let's just say a wave of big feelings was knocking me down, none of which he was responsible for.  But I made him responsible for my feelings when I was impatient and refused to do what was best for him. Instead seeing that he needed help, I saw him as an obstacle that I needed to overcome. I failed him.

Once we both miraculously calmed down, I acknowledged that I had let him down. I asked him if he was feeling overwhelmed and told him that I should have helped him, that it's okay to feel that way and okay to ask for help. I apologized, he forgave me. It's done. I will release myself from the guilt and anger that come along with these disappointments, and I will file it away under "learning experiences" not "failures."

This one is the hardest, and most important for me. Forgiveness and grace don't come naturally. I like order and justice, black and white, and it banishes me to a cycle of negativity all the time. The more I beat myself up for my mistakes, the more I make them because I feel unworthy and incapable of change. I label myself a failure and it remains a self-fulfilling prophesy.

But I refuse to continue modeling this to my children. I refuse to pass this family curse on to them. I WILL forgive and accept my imperfect self because they deserve a mom who walks around with joy and freedom, not with a heavy burden of failure and self-loathing. And because I can't bear the thought of them internalizing the message of imperfection as unworthiness. I am worthy of these things because God says I am, and who am I to argue with that?