Day 49: Better Late than Never

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

I'm going to take another day to soak in some thoughts on trust and control, and in the meantime share a recent revelation and subsequent observation relating to the television.


I've been struggling to find a comfortable relationship with DVDs. I was paying far too much attention to external influences - research, opinions, what other moms are doing - instead of tapping into my intuition. Ironically, it was an external resource that brought me back to my intuition to make peace with the issue once and for all.

Putting on a DVD for Jackson never felt right. There were always feelings of guilt and inadequacy when I hit play - every time. I chalked those up to "shoulds" based on research, wanting to be the fictional 'perfect mom,' or having a black and white view of the issue that should be more gray. I didn't honor the fact that those emotions were coming from within me. In other words, I blew myself off.

I was never happy with how Jackson behaved during and after a DVD, but I blamed it on my absence instead of the DVDs presence (Of course! Don't we moms blame ourselves for everything?). In other words, I used guilt in a negative way by placing blame instead of using it as a positive guidepost for future decisions.

I listened to other moms I respect talk about their kids' favorite shows or movies and saw the TV on in other moms' homes and told myself, "See, they do it. It's not so bad." In other words, I looked at what someone else had decided was right for their family and tried to apply it to mine instead of looking at what I felt was right for my family.

Instead of honoring my intuition, I tried to smother it in reason: I do what we have to do to survive. We're not capable of being a no-TV house anymore. It's not ideal, but it's not that bad. I just need to relax about it and stop being so all or nothing.

Then by chance (or divine intervention) I came home from ECFE a couple weeks ago with a handout on temperament. I'm pretty tuned in to the kids' temperaments and had already done lots of reading on it, so I set the packet on the table and didn't give it another thought until a few days ago when I decided to read through the suggestions for the different traits before I filed it away.

I skipped to the section on sensitivity, knowing that Jackson is off the charts in this trait. There was the expected list: teach your child to recognize when he's becoming overstimulated, be sensitive to how much stimulation your child is receiving from noise, smells, etc., help your child avoid situations that are overwhelming, and so on. But then there was this simple suggestion: Limit the amount of television your child watches.

Somehow seeing it under the category of sensitivity and overstimulation finally helped me make the connection. I was uncomfortable with it because I knew deep down that it had a negative emotional and physical impact on Jackson. Not because of the research on brain development, not because of the arbitrary number of hours "they" call acceptable or unacceptable, not even because of a change in his behavior. Those feelings were there because I know him in an inexplicable way that can only be felt.

The fact that I couldn't put my finger on why I didn't like it or what felt wrong about it shouldn't have stopped me from acting on the feeling. When it comes to mothering, the feeling is enough.

Five days without the TV have validated my instincts. He's not needing more attention without the distraction of a movie, he's actually needing less. Instead of asking for a DVD (since they've all been removed from our living space and relegated to the depths of our place-here-if-you-never-want-it-to-be-found-again mess of a storage room), he happily plops down with a lump of homemade playdough and entertains himself creatively for an hour.

He's happier and more at peace without the bombardment of screen full of action overstimulating him (even if the action was just Cinderella going to a ball!). And the fact that he readily accepted the change, even seemed to welcome it, also validates that he also knew it wasn't a healthy activity for him.

I'm disappointed that it took me so long to acknowledge and honor my intuition, that I allowed other things to guide my choice. But I'm thankful for the experience because it reinforces what I'm always preaching to myself and other moms: Trust your instincts above all else. We are each experts on our own children and no one else knows what's right for us and our families like we do.

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 16: At Least I Showered

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.

When showering is your moral victory for the day, you can pretty much bet it was a tough one! Although to be fair I did also concoct a candida-diet-friendly "sushi" roll with nori, brown rice, olive oil, avocado, raw garlic, and lots of cayenne. Yum! 

I woke up feeling weak, shaky and feverish. Jackson was his usual self. He paid money to Mr. Coyote while I rested in between reading books to him. But fast forward a couple hours and all of a sudden it's mayhem! The diet is proving to be a little too much for Jackson. He's coping beautifully with the restriction, but his body isn't coping well with the load of toxins being released. Time to back off a little, I think.

He spent almost two hours crying, nursing, crying some more, eating some almonds, crying again, drinking some "lemonade", and of course crying...He just kept saying he was sad, but he didn't know what he was sad about. It was heartbreaking, and if I'm honest, really irritating. It's not just the grating sound of his cries that gets to me or the fact that it sends a chaotic feeling through the every part of my body. It's that every cry is like a reminder that I'm failing. I can't get myself past the insane idea that success is a happy kid. 

No one can be happy all the time, but somehow Jackson was for most of his first two years. When Max came around, life changed for both of us. I couldn't meet his needs all day every day anymore, and I didn't take the time or dig deep enough for the patience and energy to continue parenting him consistently the way I was, with loving communication dominating our day. Add to that the emotional explosion that happens in a tiny brain that turns two and you have a recipe for some upheaval.

No matter how many times I tell myself it's crazy, I still operate under the premise that I can and should create an ideal world for my children, one in which there are only rainbows, butterflies, and smiles. It's unrealistic and self-defeating. And even if I could accomplish this, it would be harmful, not helpful for their development! So every time someone is less than cheerful, I take it personally. No pressure, kids! And the worst part is that the feelings of failure and frustration crowd out the compassion and understanding that would actually bring them back to peace and contentment faster. You can see why I call it crazy.  

So today we'll have a pear, maybe even a date or two, and trudge through. I will do my best to comfort him and alleviate all the emotional or physical pain I can, but instead of seeing this as a failure, I will see it as an opportunity for him to develop resilience and trust in his own ability to see himself through trials and my ability to help him. And let's not forget, it's an opportunity for me to practice a much-needed skill.

 

Day 6: Superpowers

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


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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

The Real About Me

Mothering is a daily adventure into uncharted territory. No one else has ever parented these children in this stage in this mood under these circumstances. Consequently, no one has the answers to any of our daily struggles - trust me, I've looked everywhere. It's like we're all playing a game with an opponent who gets to change the rules at will...without telling anyone.

I don't have the answers for anyone else, much less for myself, but I do know this: We're ALL struggling. And none of us are talking about it.

The Perfect Mom you see at the grocery store with the polite children in matching outfits, her hair styled and nails neatly manicured - she's a figment of your imagination. She has bad days, pajama and bedhead days, temper tantrum days, exhausted and frustrated days, even yelling and shaming days. I guarantee it. How do I know? Because I've been told I'm that mom. BAHahahahaha!!...Oh, sorry. Excuse the outburst. I've been told I look like I have it all together, like there's peace and harmony between me and my children, like I have a sense of calm about me...seriously.

But the truth is I'm just as much like the Real Mom at the grocery store, with the screaming kids knocking items off shelves, sweatpant-clad with food in her hair and fear in her eyes. We all have our good days and our bad days, triumphs and failures.

And in the end no matter how prepared we are, we're all winging it. We pick up tools as we go, learn by trial and error, and just pray everyone comes out on the other side in tact. I'm convinced that if we, as mothers, can start showing our authentic, imperfect selves to each other, we would find that the understanding, support and collective wisdom we gain will bring us that much closer to our own version of Perfect Mom.

So here's my real About Me:

I'm a control freak. When I can't control my circumstances (read: my two year old's behavior) I get angry. When I get angry, I yell. When I yell, I feel guilty. When I feel guilty, I get angry at myself for losing control. The more out of control I feel, the more I try to control my circumstances...and so the ugly cycle continues. It takes every ounce of strength I have to prevent this from being a daily occurrence.

I'm a pessimist, a real-life Debby Downer. I have an uncanny ability to see and assume the worst in every situation. The end of the world happens daily for me. It takes all my energy to choose to see the world, and sometimes even the people I love, in a positive light.

I live in a black and white world. Every question should have an answer, and I want all the answers. I naturally value justice over compassion and understanding. My tendency is to value being "right" over all else. It takes everything in me to see the gray that covers nearly all of life, and to choose cooperation over competition.

Except in my very closest relationships, I'm not good at being real. I assume that opening myself up will bring negative judgment from others (hello again, pessimism, my old friend). I place a very high value on privacy, often at the expense of intimacy and all the growth, joy, and satisfaction that comes with it. Vulnerability is terrifying (especially when you expect to be ridiculed, judged or attacked!) so it's easier to pretend I have it all figured out and put together, no help needed. And, drum roll please...It takes everything I have to just be me - the good, the bad, and the ugly - in front of anyone.

That's a list of my defaults. But I'm also loving, dependable, passionate, intelligent, loyal, a good listener, warm, fun-loving, determined, never satisfied with 'good enough' for myself or the people I love, and never satisfied with living in default mode. Above all else, I'm a mom who loves her children more than life, and who would do literally anything for them...even start a blog reveling her failures and weaknesses in an attempt to find balance and a better life for them!

With this much of myself to overcome in a day to be who I truly believe I am underneath all the baggage that comes with 26 years of life, I don't have the energy to waste on constructing a perfect facade anymore. I'm choosing to free myself of that, and to put that energy into actually *being* all the things I look like I am from the outside. Buckle up...It's going to be a bumpy ride.

A Mission Statement of Sorts

Every day I start with new resolve to parent in a manner worthy of the beautiful little souls God has entrusted to me: with respect, dignity, acceptance, joy, love, grace, forgiveness, security, trust, compassion, authenticity, peace, creativity, enthusiasm...(simple, right? Ha!) And every day I fail. And so it will continue every day, because the goal of being a perfect mother is decidedly out of reach.

You might think an unattainable goal would leave me, and every other mother for that matter, feeling defeated. And some days it does. But there's a secret that the world doesn't tell us, a secret that changes everything: Fulfillment is in the process, not the product.

A successful parent isn't measure by the final product. In fact, we can do it all "right" and still end up falling short if what we're striving for is a toddler who shares, a teenager who doesn't smoke, or straight A's on a report card. Successful parenting is much more fluid and ambiguous than that. It's an intimate, undefinable connection, a relationship that can't be summed up in words. It's a catalog of never-finished, always in-progress immeasurables that can't be checked off a list: Empathy, confidence, respect, self-worth, stability, integrity...these are the things I long for when I dream of the present and future for my children.

Life is messy, and the closer you get to people, the messier it gets. I can't think of a more intimate relationship than that of a mother to a child. You will make mistakes - lots of them. You will do many of the things on your "I'd never" list. You will cause heartache in the very same little beings you are so madly in love with. And you will feel inadequate, probably daily.

But if in the midst of all of that you can remain present - with yourself and with your children - you will reach the unattainable goal. You will be *their* perfect mother, the one who never stops trying to be better for them.

So I'm embarking on this never-ending journey in writing at the dawn of 2011 so that I have a tangible, daily reminder to stay present and focused on the goal of positive parenting. Also so that on the days I need encouragement, I can look back and see how far I've come. So that someday, when my children are regaling me with tales of my shortcomings, I can point them here and say, "I tried my best." And finally, in the hopes that some other mother who may happen upon it will no longer feel alone in her failures and inadequacies, and may even offer herself some much needed grace.