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 73: Livin' on the Edge

I have a danger seeker.

You can see it in his eyes, especially when he sticks that little tongue out the side of his mouth with determination. This one's going to be a whole new kind of handful. He's intensely curious, fearless, and takes the bull by the horns.

After two and a half years of encouraging one child to assert himself, take risks, and jump in, I'm going to need to learn how to help the other learn caution and gentleness. Having conditioned myself to be almost excessively emotionally in tune with one sensitive child, I envision myself throwing my hands up as the other laughs at my "feelings board" on the wall and runs off to set something on fire.

As it stands now, my two boys have some definite similarities that seem to be far outweighed by their differences.

Of course nothing about them is written in stone and I want to leave them both plenty of room to change and grow in whatever ways they choose, but some pieces of their temperaments are clearly innate qualities.

So as Maxwell's world is so quickly expanding, I'm coming to a fuller realization of what's in store for our relationship in the future - and in turn, what's in store for my personal growth. Because as much as God entrusts children to our loving care so that we can model and teach as they grow, he also sends them to us so that they can teach and even model for us as we grow.

I've learned more in two years as a mother than in the previous ten combined, and this is no accident. This is God's plan for a mutually satisfying and challenging relationship between parent and child.

I look back with profound gratitude at all that Jackson has taught me in these two years, and forward to all the ways Max gets to benefit from those lessons already learned. And now as Mom-to-two and Mom-to-Max, I get to expand my knowledge and experience, and work on new specialties...like fire safety or first aid perhaps.

I can't predict the future, but I do already know that Max is going to stretch me in different ways and force me further outside my comfort zone, definitely further out of control and into trust.

Good news! You're just in time, Max. After years of preparation, Mommy's finally ready for you.

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 39: Respectfully Annoyed

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.

Before I had kids, I dreamed of vacationing on a Mexican beach, sipping mai tais and relaxing while my pre-baby body soaked up the sun. Now I fantasize about sitting alone in a quiet room for an hour. Oddly, I made the beach dream a reality more times than I've been blessed with the quiet room in the past two years. Perhaps this explains the short road to annoyance. But in any case, it's forcing me to look at an aspect of my communication skills that need a little polishing. Okay, this project may be about being kind to myself, but it's also about being authentic, so let's be honest: I'm not polishing, I'm developing this skill from scratch because it's sorely lacking.

Sometimes, no matter how much you love someone, they can be downright annoying. This is especially true when that someone is two years old. We've recently entered a persistent stage where names must be repeated over and over before a sentence can be uttered, and questions, regardless of the fact that they've already been answered, must also be repeated a minimum of four times. This is enough to drive me flippin' nuts. But of course I don't want to really drive home the message "You're annoying!" and make him carry that around, so what's a mom to do? 

The mainstream approach to this would be to try to hide the fact that I'm annoyed; pretend those feelings aren't there, shove them down, or coat them in other forced feelings that aren't really feelings at all because you're not feeling them. Not only am I too intense to be capable of these things, but doing so would model disingenuousness. The energy tied to our emotions is something people feel, not something they hear us say, and children are more in touch with energy than anyone. When we try to hide feelings, deny them, or name them something other than what they are, we either send the message that the true feeling, the one they can sense but we won't admit, isn't okay to feel, or we leave them confused because what they know (the energy they feel) and what we tell them (the mislabeling or denial of the feeling) are incongruous.

So if my approach, both by default and by philosophical choice, is to be authentic with these feelings, I have to do it responsibly. Here's where the communication skills are falling short.

As I made supper, Jackson was asking the usual questions: What are you doing? Can I see? Why are you doing that? How does that work? And on and on. Finally he came to his favorite, "Can I help?" In this case, there was a large, sharp knife involved in the project, so I explained why he couldn't. He understood, but didn't want to accept it, so he proceeded to ask me again and again. I hit my limit by the fourth or fifth time and finally shouted, "Jackson, I already told you no. Stop asking!" To which he replied, "Mommy, you should talk to Jackson more respectfully." Face meet palm.

It's okay to be annoyed by annoying behavior. I'm only human. But it's not okay to let that annoyance drive me to treat him with less love and less respect. Instead of being reactive, I can work on communicating purposefully. I can communicate annoyance respectfully just like I can joy, anger, love, and sadness. The emotions change, but the communication doesn't have to. And while I'm developing this skill, I can rest easy knowing that I've given him the confidence and tools he needs to stand up to my reactivity and even help me through it.

Day 38: Intuition

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.

Our Holistic Moms Network meeting last night was on "food as medicine." Having done loads of nutritional research, especially in the past few weeks, I didn't expect anything to rock my world, but I ended up walking away with something really significant. She talked about bioindividuality - the concept that no one diet works for every human body - and touched on allowing the body to guide you to what it needs. She went on to explain how that intuition isn't accessible when we're in a toxic state from eating processed foods, pesticides, hormones, and everything else that comes along with the Western Diet. I can identify with this so powerfully right now as the detox diet is slowly changing my dietary intuition.

I'm a person to which moderation does not come naturally or easily - in anything. When I'm in, I'm all in. This intensity brings so many positive things to my life. Most relevant to this project, it allows me to love my children so fiercely that I'm willing to fight through the ways that same intensity can damage them. Most relevant to the topic of nutrition, it means that food has been a battleground my whole life.

I believe so completely in the healing power of real food, and most days that knowledge is what guides my food choices. But when I fall prey to the enticing false promise of satisfaction from harmful food-like products, I go overboard. Way overboard. The only time I've felt my body's intuition guiding me toward healthful choices was during my pregnancy with Max, which also, not coincidentally, was a time I felt more energetic, healthy, and peaceful than ever before. 

Looking back, I now know that this is because this longstanding candida overgrowth coupled with the toxicity that results from overindulgence in moments of weakness has smothered that intuition for over a decade. As I detox, I feel it returning. Instead of feeling satisfied by "fake" foods, I feel physically sick when I make a poor choice. Instead of shoveling too much in with no signal to stop or repercussion when I don't, I feel full and even ill when I surpass full. It's only a matter of time before that intuition is fully restored to the point that non-foods are no longer appealing. What a welcome change that will be!

All of this got me thinking about emotional toxicity and mothering intuition. I think the parallel is strong. Emotional toxicity can come from unhealthy relationships, damage from early life experiences, insufficient coping skills, overbearing advice from family and friends, and any number of other sources. We all carry some toxicity, but when we become overloaded, it clouds out our intuition. The feelings - in both body and mind - that are intended to guide us through life and relationships are replaced with externally prescribed shoulds, and can'ts or simply confusion.

The danger is that shoulds and can'ts, like food-like products, can look appealing even though they're damaging. And the more we internalize them, the more they crowd out intuition. As we detox by refusing to engage in toxic relationships or listen to toxic advice, by finding ways to heal ourselves, our mothering intuition returns. Eventually the wrong choices will simply feel wrong, maybe even make us feel sick, and clarity will replace confusion.

So I've decided to engage in a full body and mind detox. As I get more in touch with my body's intuition, I'll work on connecting more fully with my mothering intuition. Together these things will bring me closer to the kind of energy, health and peace I want to experience and be for myself and my family.

Day 11: Life is a Roller Coaster

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.

Today's post will be short. It's the end of another long day and my options are putting my energy into hashing over a less than successful day or spending time with Max and my husband. I think it's a no-brainer. 

Let's just say Jackson spent the day marking his territory around the house. He peed in his chair at breakfast, on a pillow he was sitting on in his playroom, in his pants while we were both standing right by the bathroom. He's going much more frequently recently, so I'm not prompting him often enough. And I can't for the life of me figure out if he's also getting surprised by how often he needs to go or if he's just choosing not to tell me because he doesn't want to stop eating or playing to go to the bathroom. When I asked him why he didn't go to the potty he said, "Because you didn't ask me." 

I was able to respond patiently at first, but the more times it happened, the more irritated I got. So much for do-overs and a fresh perspective at each interaction! Part of my inner monologue is usually: "You're the adult!" Today, I would have done well to remember that one. He's 2 and he needs help. Instead of help, I gave him unrealistic expectations and frustration. At one point I even yelled, "I told you to go to the potty when you needed to! Why are you peeing on everything?!" 

When it comes down to it, I think he just needs help. He doesn't have the impulse control or cognitive skills to reason through leaving his toys or his meal for something he doesn't want to do. I'm convinced we only made it through dry meals and playtime the past six months because he didn't have to go so often and the times I was prompting were enough. So it's not his abilities that have changed, it's my ability to see his need and help him. I'm ashamed to say I was angry with him when it was my own fault, but that's the truth. 

The slate is washed clean with acknowledgment, apology and forgiveness and the positive spin is that I can move forward with this new understanding of his needs and my responsibility to make sure we don't have another day like today.