Day 160: Mirror, Mirror

I always see Jackson's behavior as a mirror, but sometimes I misinterpret the reflection.

When he chooses to do the opposite of what I've asked, resists cooperation, and has a "bad" attitude, I've been allowing that negative, inaccurate script to trick me into thinking it's a reflection of my weakness, a lack of power and authority. So is it any wonder I've been reacting by trying to assert myself through changing his behavior?

In reality, the reflection I'm seeing is of my own behavior and attitude.

He has always freely offered respect and cooperation when he's treated with the same. He's always open and emotionally healthy when he experiences connection and acceptance.

Of course this doesn't translate into being permanently cheerful, but it does dictate how often, to what degree, and for how long he feels sad, frustrated and the like. When those feelings do arise, he communicates so openly and honestly when he feels safe and respected that, as he's heard, understood and valued, they generally float out as quickly as they came in.

When, on the other hand, he feels rejected, judged, disrespected or controlled, we find ourselves standing in a stagnant pool of those feelings - the ones that are there to guide us away from where we are and back to where we're meant to be.

When I feel disrespected, the question I should be asking myself isn't: How do I make him respect me?

It should be: How have I been disrespecting him? And how do I change that right now by showing him respect in this situation?

Even Bob the Robot gets love and respect

Kids truly do need love most when they deserve it least, and that means respect, acceptance, and connection in the face of real or perceived (as is often the case) disrespect.

As I challenge the authoritarian script, I'm going to start taking a more honest look in the mirror of his behavior so I can see myself for what I am in that moment and choose a different path - one that leads to listening and connecting.

Day 105: Model if you Do, Model if you Don't

I've been posting recently about a few of the causes I'm passionate about and why, and am now processing the reason these things are such a major part of my parenting journey.

Of course becoming a parent was my initiation into this world of birth, breastfeeding and all things baby/child, and the role of mother changed me in many ways. And what mom doesn't want the world to be a better place for her children? But ultimately, when the moment comes for me to decide if I'll remain politely silent or challenge the status quo, what I consider is always the message my children will receive.

Because my choice is not about whether or not I send a message, it's about which message I send. Whether I'm quiet or outspoken, active or inactive, toeing the line or stirring the pot, I'm sending a clear message about my beliefs, my values, and my worldview, and in turn shaping theirs.

I never want my boys to see me sit idly by in the face of injustice, untruth or abuse. I never want them to see me compromise myself for the sake of social grace or choose popularity over advocacy. I never want them to see me fear negative judgment more than I fear the wrong I can help right.

I want them to see me consistently and respectfully standing firm in what I know to be true, and standing up for those who can't do so for themselves. I want them to see that strength comes with the responsibility to support and advocate for those less fortunate, less capable. I want them to grow up knowing that they can change the world simply by being who they are and living out their values - that every opportunity they have to advocate is an opportunity to better themselves and everyone around them.

Babies are voiceless; they can't tell us how badly they want and need to breastfeed, how desperate they are to keep their bodies intact, how intensely they want to be loved and responded to whether it's day or night, whether they're smiling or crying, whether they're just born or months old.

Children are unable to advocate for themselves; they can't tell us how small they feel when they're shamed, how scared and confused they are when they're hit, how worthless they feel when they're punished, or how badly they still need our love and responsive attention, even if they're X years old.

So I'll gladly field negative judgment and sideways looks, and I'll wear the labels "fanatic" and "extremist" as badges of honor, not letters of shame. I'll allow people to place responsibility on me for their feelings of inadequacy, regret, guilt or anger and keep moving forward with a clear conscience.

Because it's only when I speak the truth in love that I'm able to sleep at night and face myself in the mirror every morning. And I'm confident that this is the message I want my children to internalize.

We cannot withhold facts for fear of offending
because the importance of the information
outweighs people's right to not be challenged in their beliefs. ~Maddy Reid

I swore never to be silent whenever and wherever human beings endure suffering and humiliation. We must always take sides. Neutrality helps the oppressor, never the victim. Silence encourages the tormentor, never the tormented. ~Elie Wiesel

Day 88: Positive and Productive Protests

I never wanted to change the world until I had kids. I don't know exactly what it is about becoming a parent that stirs up these desires, but it seems to be pretty common. Maybe it's that having a child is the only thing that can truly pull a person outside of themselves and their own interests so completely. Whatever the case, I suddenly cared deeply about things like nutrition, birth, breastfeeding, circumcision, feminism, human rights, medical ethics, freedom of choice, and all manners of equality. Things that weren't even a blip on the radar now consume my life.

If I could clone myself, I'd be at every capitol march and every public hearing, I'd be writing articles, letters, and emails and making phone calls daily. But of course I'm only one person, so I settle for doing all the things I can with the time and resources I have. And while posting a profile picture and passing on articles in support of World Breastfeeding Week or Genital Integrity Awareness Week is a small part of that, there's something else I see as much more valuable, much more productive: Community.

A few days ago, I happened to drive by our local Planned Parenthood to see a (very) small group of individuals pacing with "Respect Life" signs. I got unexpectedly angry. And if I hadn't had to get home, it would've been enough to motivate me to pull over and strike up a conversation.

How they think that providing a negative presence and directing that energy at people who are already in a negative place is supposed to produce a positive result is beyond me.

If they want to end abortion they should start by getting involved in the community instead of wasting their time circling on the sidewalk. If they truly cared about babies, they'd be actively supporting those babies' mothers, not silently carrying cardboard messages of disapproval. If they want to protect life, they should be actively loving women in our community so perfectly that those women embrace their innate value and strength to the point of feeling capable of motherhood.

I care about babies and life, I'd love to see the end of abortion, but self-righteous picketing and targeting legal rights don't make my list of ways to bring that to fruition. And that goes for all the other causes I'm passionate about. If we want to change the world, we have to start by promoting a positive change, not attacking what we see as negative.

So here are my positive and productive protests, and I hope you'll take a minute to think about yours (and share them!):

I protest the cultural and industry breastfeeding sabotage by offering support to every single mother who comes across my path and, through friends of friends, many I'll never meet, by actively participating in my local breastfeeding community and encouraging other women to do so, and by openly and confidently breastfeeding my children where ever I am, in whatever I'm wearing, no matter who's present, and no matter what age my child is.

I protest the unethical withholding of circumcision information by the medical community by being open about our choice to keep our sons intact and honest about its damaging and right-revoking nature when I'm met with an open and wondering ear, and by supporting mothers whose strength wavers in the face of cultural or family expectations.

I protest the dismal quality of our food system by making good nutritional choices for my family and not compromising that based on cultural expectations, by helping other mothers find their way to the best nutrition for their families, by supporting local food sources, and by spreading awareness about infringements upon our rights within the system.

I protest the stripping of a woman's birthing power by the routine labor and delivery system by openly sharing my birth experiences, by supporting every pregnant woman I have the privilege of meeting, and by cheering every woman on to empowerment, to seeing herself and her body as perfectly-designed, capable, and strong.

I protest the stripping of personal freedoms by standing up for the rights of those I don't agree with. By championing all causes that promote personal choice, regardless of how I feel about those choices.

I protest the mistreatment of children by supporting and validating mothers, by offering information to those who feel their options are limited, who want to find a peaceful way to coexist with their children but don't know how, by treating my own children with the respect and dignity they deserve, by offering a new way of looking at children and the parent-child relationship, and by encouraging mothers to follow their instincts.

I'm proud to say that my children will grow up in a community and witness my passionate involvement in that community; and they will be better for it. Caring for others will be second nature to them, and seeing through the issues to the people will come naturally. A genuine desire to promote positive change in their world will just be a part of who they are, and championing a cause will be so much more meaningful to them than waving a sign. Now if we could just get the rest of the world on board!

Day 81: One of These Things is Not Like the Other

I've never been one to fit in, really, but I've definitely never been so far outside of "normal" as I am now. And raising my kids in a non-mainstream way means they're going to be different from the get go.

Of course to us, we're normal. And (stepping up on my soap box for just a moment) biologically speaking, we're the normal ones. But to most people, we're weird. What we eat is different, the way we communicate is different, the products we use (or don't) in our home are different, the activities we do (or don't do) are different, our ideas on health and wellness are different, the way we see the world is largely different. Not across the board, of course we do plenty of "normal" things too, but based on majority, we're different.

Mmmmm...Collard Greens

Every once in a while I have an interaction that reminds me just how "out there" we really are. Like today at ECFE when I found myself trying to explain why Jackson was eating pumpkin seeds yet again instead of having a non-organic apple with the group. It makes perfect sense to me - his body is extremely sensitive to chemicals (apples are about the worst on the list), plus nutrition is a major part of the healing process he's undergoing - but not to a person who doesn't share our nutritional values or health philosophy. No matter how much sense it makes, I just come out looking like some crazy woman who won't let her kid eat fruit! And no matter how I say it, it's assumed we're "too good" for something everyone else is having.

Someday the boys will be old enough to look around and see that their normal isn't the same as most other people's normal, and when that happens they'll be faced with the choice to accept who they are or change it. I'm hoping that raising them in a way that promotes confidence and conscientiousness will lead to the former. Self-assurance will keep insecurity from nudging them toward assimilation, and thoughtfulness will help them understand exactly why they are who they are, allowing them to see the value of their differences and the cost of conformity.

What I hope they learn by watching me interact with the world that's so different from us is that what people think of who I am or the choices I make doesn't have any bearing on who I actually am or the validity of my choices. And conversely that a person's value or "acceptability" doesn't depend on agreement, that seeing eye to eye is a bonus, not a requirement for acceptance.

Jackson is already practicing this kind of acceptance of himself and others. It doesn't rock his world that other people eat foods we don't have in our home or that they don't eat what we eat. He has no problem with the fact that his friends watch DVDs and he doesn't or that other boys like to play trucks while he's cooking or playing with animals (although, thanks to our good friend Carl, trucks are slowly moving their way up the priority list!).

In his perfect innocence, different isn't attached to judgment. The fact that everyone does things in his own way is simply a fact of life, not something that has to be ranked as better or worse. He doesn't know it, but he's living the philosophy I've been working so hard to integrate into my black and white world. So as he models this effortless openness for me, I'll do my best to help him hold on to it as he grows up.

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 72: Streak of Freedom

I want to be this free! Maybe more free-spirited than free with my booty, but you get the point.

As Jackson walked around this morning in my mukluks sans clothes, belting out a tune without a shred of insecurity or inhibition (he posed for a frontal shot, but we'll keep that in the family!), I felt a twinge of jealousy quickly followed by an intense desire to shield him from all the ways the world will try to rob him of this.

We're born with a free streak, an innate brazenness that slowly slips away from us as we grow up in a culture that values conformity and teaches competition, comparison, and ultimately condemnation for things outside the box collectively labeled "acceptable."

Now, not being nudists, we've been modeling for Jackson the appropriate time and place for brazenness of this nature (which I'm sure will all go out the window when he gets to college), but I want to be careful to never taint him with feelings of shame or insecurity - about his body or his being.

He may always be "different" by common standards - the things he enjoys, the environments he feels comfortable in, the way he communicates and relates to people, and the way he responds to things - and I want him to be free to continue seeing that for what it is, simply his individuality and the beautifully unique way God created him to be. (I also want him to be free to see it as fluid and adaptable, but more on that soon)

My deepest desire is to see him embrace who he is at his core and find strength in that so that the insecurity and shame other people try to pass on to him will just slip past, unimportant or even unnoticed.

In parenthood, I've become very "different," (I probably always was, but in parenthood I could no longer fight it!) and learning to embrace that has been a very freeing experience. I may never get my original free streak back, but with practice I'm at least moving in that direction.

Day 25: SpongeJack Copy Pants

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.

You've heard it before: Children are like sponges, soaking up everything they see and hear. Everything. And just in case I ever forget, Jackson is happy to remind me. Take the food-meets-floor stage around 12 months. I watched him throw a pea to the ground, look me square in the eye and say, "Dammit, Jackson!" Whoops! Guess that one was slipping out pretty frequently, huh? Impressive language skills, but not quite what I was going for.

Or how about this morning when Max was yelling and he went over to him, squatted down to his level and said with a straight face, "Max, I can't take any more whining and complaining." *Facepalm* Not exactly the message I want him to take in, and certainly not what I want him regurgitating on other people. In fact, I don't even remember saying it to him, but since I'm the one he's with every day, we all know the buck stops here.

For all the things I'm conscious of modeling, there are so many more that slip under my radar. Being Ms. Negative means I dwell on the examples of my failures. But today I thought I'd squeeze into the telephone booth, lose the pessimistic lenses and try on some new tights. 

Happier than a mom at nap time. More optimistic than Mahatma Ghandi. Able to leap to positive conclusions in a single thought. Look, coming out of the darkness. It's a zen master. It's a swami. Dun-da-da-dunnnn...It's Captain Bright Side!

Okay, okay, so I don't exactly have optimistic superpowers. But I do, now and then, try to see the world through rose colored glasses, and today just happens to be one of those day. Literally every moment I'm with my children, I'm modeling. They see everything from the way I interact with people at the grocery store to how I treat their dad, and even how I treat myself. And they're picking up more good things than bad. I see the way Jackson respects other people and rules set in other places, how he comforts Maxwell when he's upset and asks his dad how his day was, and I know it's because he saw it, not because I taught it.

When I toss a book onto a pile and he very seriously tells me, "Mommy, do you think you should be more respectful with the library's book?" I can be proud that he has soaked up the value of taking extra care with things that aren't ours, not to mention the value of respectful communication. When he walks up to a little boy at school who's upset and hands him a toy saying, "Here, will this make you feel better?" I smile and know that he has learned to take care of other people by watching me do the same.

Sure he throws something when he gets mad sometimes (who knows where he got that one *looks around nonchalantly whistling*), but he also gains composure quickly, talks through the problem and spontaneously apologizes. He may be picking up a few *ahem* less-than-positive things from me, but he's also getting a mountain of valuable tools and traits at the same time. The more I focus on those, the more I will consciously and unconsciously show them.

Day 24: Don't Screw it Up!

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.

There's a reason Mom is the topic of discussion on every therapy couch (and by the way, if I thought the couch really existed, I would start therapy just to get a break and take a nap!). As a mother, I am the most influential person in the lives of my children. That's a pretty huge responsibility, one that I take very seriously. Maybe too seriously...

It's true that the way I communicate with them and others will be their model for communication in every relationship to come. Yes, what I show and teach them about self-respect and self-worth will be the foundation of their own self-image someday. Of course, the way I feed them will form the basis for their future nutritional choices. No question, the way they see me manage emotions will provide the blueprint for what they do with their own emotions. Without a doubt, the values I show them will be the building blocks of their integrity. And why wouldn't the way I discipline them shape the way they interact with the world and even parent their own children some day? For better or worse, I am the most significant influence in their lives present and future.

All of these things and many more add up, and I start to feel pressure, immense pressure, to perform perfectly or else. Because if I don't, I'll "screw them up," right? Well, yes, if you consider the fact that we're all screwed up! But not quite, when you look around and see capable and compassionate adults from homes that were anything but perfect. I'm lucky that Dad, an almost equal second in the race for life-altering influence, makes up for my shortcomings. But even that isn't the reason I won't screw them up.

My children didn't come to me as blank slates. Nor did they arrive as shapeless mounds of clay to be molded into any form I please. They came to me as whole human beings, with personalities and temperaments already in place. They are malleable, not mutable. Whatever influences come their way, who they are at the core will remain unchanged. What a relief!

So instead of seeing myself as "the shaper of small people", I should call myself "the setter of small persons' defaults." This job is of equal significance, but with consequences less grave. The shaper is responsible for inputting all data, thus everything that comes out is a result of what she put in. The setter simply works on the system already in place. The product is already complete, but capable of accepting downgrades or improvements. I give tools, model values to the best of my ability, and leave the rest to the God who created them and placed them in my care.

Some of my defaults are obstacles, others are blessings. Either way I have a choice every day to live out who I was created to be or who my defaults say I am. My children will have the same choice; the same opportunity to improve on the things I've modeled and taught them. I'm an imperfect influence, but they know they're loved and cherished. Everything beyond that is a bonus.

Day 10: A New Day

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.

What a difference a day makes. Helping him get dressed, I noticed Jackson's skin was beautiful, as beautiful as his demeanor. Instead of struggling, we were dancing and laughing. He was back to his old self - cooperative, cheerful, and genuinely wanting to make everyone else as happy as he was. The mind-body connection is so obvious in him because his skin tells all his body's secrets. I wish I could remember that more often and offer him an extra helping of grace on the bad days, knowing that it's not really him.


Instead of moving through the house like a hurricane, leaving a disaster in his wake, he was sweeping, vacuuming (pretending of course), and putting toys away without prompting - providing for himself the kind of peaceful and orderly environment he wanted to be in. It brought me back my childhood when my own mother, met with "But Whyyyyy!" upon asking me to clean my room, explained that a mess on the outside was a sign of a mess on the inside.

I've seen this play out with Jackson so clearly, so many times. When he feels overwhelmed or out of control, he brings that chaos to his world. I rarely make the connection until we're well into the day and I'm already looking back regretfully at my own failure to manage it in a healthy way. I guess that's because the days I do manage it well, I don't look back. But what a gift if I could grab on to that right away, prep myself, and use it as a tool to get through our tough days peacefully.

I see this in myself too. When I feel overwhelmed and default into negativity, I let it color every interaction and experience in my day. It feels impossible change my perspective because the day has already been logged under "bad" and shall stay that way until we reset overnight...because those are the rules.

I'm learning, as my good friend Brooke pointed out in blogging about her own parenting journey, to see each interaction and experience as fresh and new. Choosing not to get caught up in a bad day, expecting positive things, and allowing for a midstream positive change in myself and my kids will save me from ever having to say, "he wore me down." I can choose to let it wear on me, or I can choose to take a fresh look, even pretend that the previous interactions didn't happen in order to give us all the gift of starting over...and over, and over, and over if need be.

This one will not be an easy lesson to put into practice. I tend to dwell and let things build until screaming about dates is really just the culmination of all the frustration I had been trying (poorly) to manage over the course of the day. Starting over was one of the tools I gave Jackson as a way to work through his own big feelings, and now it's time for Mommy to start modeling it. Wish me luck!

Day 9: Chaos Strikes Again

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.

*sigh* We had our first major default since I started this project. It was ugly. And a great reminder of why I'm doing this. It has happened before, and it will likely happen again, but I feel more aware, more in control, and more capable of turning the bus around once we've started the wrong way down Positive Parenting Drive (it's a one-way street, you know). What would have usually ended up in a head-on collision was reeled in soon enough that I walked away with only a moving violation.

It had been a loooooong tough day. Jackson woke up crying because he was "sad that Daddy isn't here." All day we tried to talk through it, but he was struggling to transition from Daddy's full attention all weekend to Daddy gone at work all day. Understandable since Daddy's a pretty awesome guy. Our ongoing conversation went about like this:
Jackson: I'm sad because Daddy left.
Mommy: Why does Daddy have to go to work?
Jackson: To provide for us so we have a warm house and clothes and food.
Mommy: That's right. Does Daddy always come back?
Jackson: Yes. Daddy's coming at supper time.
Mommy: Daddy wishes he could be home now, but he'll come as soon as he can.
A few minutes elapse...
Jackson: I'm angry that Daddy left.
Mommy: Why does Daddy have to go to work?
Jackson: I don't want Daddy to provide for us.
Mommy: Does Daddy always come back?
Jackson: No. He doesn't. Daddy doesn't wish he was here. He won't be home soon.
Mommy realizes we're hitting a wall and further communication will be of no use.

You can imagine how the rest of the day went with a child who simply feels sad and angry about something neither of us (nor Daddy) can change. We couldn't reason this one away, he just had to feel it. I tried to distract him with his favorite activities, but when even playing in the sink isn't enough to bring the day out of the gutter, you can pretty much resign yourself to a tough day.

There was a pretty much a constant struggle between the two of us - he didn't want to do anything I asked, he didn't want to do anything else, he even peed in his pants three times because he wouldn't even go to the bathroom. Everything was just wrong in his world. I maintained composure all morning, even managed to accept his nap that was under an hour without getting upset, but by the end of the day he had worn me down.

We got home late from a grocery trip that shouldn't have taken so long (I can't wrap my head around how long everything takes when I'm carting two kids around by myself!). I was stressed over how late we were going to be getting to our supper, so I felt a little frantic as I put away groceries and started cooking. Max was in the exersaucer in the kitchen yelling (my baby doesn't cry, he literally yells at me when I'm not performing to his satisfaction), alerting me to the fact that he needed a nap and adding to the pressure I was feeling. Sound chaotic? It sure felt that way!

Jackson always picks up on my energy, and he's always profoundly affected by it. He started in complaining about Daddy again, and incessantly asking for things he knew he couldn't have (scissors, dates that are for dessert, to nurse while I was cooking). I was too involved in the whirlwind around me to look through to the deeper need he was expressing. I took these things at face value and denied him with no "yes" to counteract the fury that "no" can bring. Before I knew it, he was taking his shirt off (mind you he had already been pantless because of the three prior pant-peeing episodes) and crying in nothing but his socks because he wanted his shirt back on. Again, I failed to see through to the deeper need and simply told him he needed to "live with his choice" because I couldn't stop in the middle of what I was doing (which, by the way, was taking out the garbage - more important than my 2 year old's need for my attention and affection? I think not).

I had left him with no choice. He had to take even more drastic measures to get my attention. So he grabbed for the dates on the counter. I stopped him, moved them back and explained he could have them after supper. He grabbed them again, and I repeated, all the while with Max yelling (at me), the pan sizzling away, the groceries not yet fully put away, and the music that Jackson requested on. CHAOS! I can't take anymore chaos! He grabbed them one more time and when I stopped his hand he yelled "NO! NO! NO!"

So did I come down to his level, talk to him, sit with him...Nope. I yelled louder. "Enough! That's enough! Just stop! Pick that up!" pointing to the date that had fallen on the floor. As you can guess, this didn't lead to peace. It didn't lead to anyone feeling heard. It didn't lead to anyone feeling loved. It didn't even lead to "better behavior." What it did lead to was hurt feelings, more crying and complaining, and a whole lot of mommy guilt.

Once Nick got home, Max was put down, and peace was restored to our home I was able to once again model repentance while he practiced forgiveness. We talked about his feelings, his needs that weren't being met, my needs, and my feelings. We talked about why it happened and how it should have happened instead. We will leave it in the past and we will try to do better the next time chaos hits. Tomorrow is a new day. I guess we can't win 'em all...