Day 71: Gimme That!

Sometimes the values you've internalized reveal themselves despite your best efforts to live according to your conscious beliefs. I've been experiencing this quite a bit lately.

I don't buy into our culture's assessment of children - that they're lower than adults and unworthy of mutual respect - but having grown up with this idea, it's something I have to continually train myself away from. Fortunately, Jackson is ready, willing and able to help me with this.

As the boys' mother, it's my job to keep them safe and also sometimes to keep our home safe from them! At times this requires me to remove them from certain environments or remove certain objects from them. And as of late, urgency has caused me to default into disrespect.

Seeing Jackson hovering a Sharpe over his dry erase board, I instinctively grabbed it from his hand, and was met with an understandable mini-meltdown: "No, no, no, Mommy! I was using that. You can't take that from me!"

My reactive self wanted to give justification and avoid admitting I had done anything wrong. But thankfully I took a moment for reactivity to pass so I could thoughtfully respond.

I acknowledged that it was not okay for me to grab things from his hands, that I should have treated him with respect and asked for his cooperation instead of using force to overpower him.

I'm proud of him for accessing some of the tools we've worked on so that he could advocate for himself in this situation. I wish I could say we've moved happily on to tackle other challenges, but for some reason this is one I continue to wrestle with. But with his help, hopefully it'll be a distant memory some day soon.

Day 69: Change of Heart, Change of Plans

Consistency is all you ever seem to hear parenting "experts" preaching. So much so that it's all you hear from other parents now too. In my default state, I thrive on this because it's so black and white. You make a statement, you follow through. You set a boundary, you enforce it every time. This kind of consistency should make life pretty simple.

But relationships aren't simple, and parenting is nothing of not a relationship.

This morning Jackson crumbled his favorite "sour bread" (soaked goat kefir bread) all over the counter. I was in no mood. So without asking him why (or caring) I just barked the order, "Clean it up, please."

Recently he's picked up on his own that offering an explanation, even when I don't take the time to ask, is really helpful for our communication, so he does this pretty regularly. He must have realized that when he explained, I was more receptive and appreciated his creativity rather than simply getting annoyed by the mess.

So he took the time to respectfully tell me that he was crumbling salt on the sidewalk so Pooh (aka Jackson) and Roo (aka Maxwell) didn't slip. Unfortunately for him, my response wasn't consistent with much of his past experience. Instead of offering him the same respectful communication in return, I patronized him with, "That's great, honey. But it needs to get cleaned up right now, please."

Now as any mother of a two-year-old knows, "right now" can have any number of definitions. In hindsight, I'm sure he was doing it "right now" at a much slower pace than I expected. In my heightened state of annoyance and reactivity, I threw out a threat (disguised, of course, as a natural consequence, but a threat nonetheless): "You can't have any smoothie until the bread is cleaned up."

And as threats always do, it blew up in my face.

He felt my resistance and anger even though I wasn't "yelling," and he decided he didn't want to participate. So in a sweet voice he said, "Okay. I don't want any smoothie." Then he hopped off his chair and headed for his playroom.

You can imagine how pissed off I was standing there by myslef staring down the bread crumbs all over the counter. Not that it would take more than a second to clean them up, but the principle...the principle!

And when I say the principle, what I really mean is that I had set up a competitive backdrop for this interaction and he had won, which of course meant I had lost. I don't like losing.

Obviously I wasn't in a good state of mind leading up to this, so for a while I clung to "consistency." But when I had a chance to cool down and gain some perspective (bread crumbs...really? And you're withholding a seaweed smoothie? C'mon...), I realized that I want my children to experience a different kind of consistency.

I want to be consistently loving and respectful and to consistently meet their needs, and this requires me to be consistently flexible. This doesn't mean becoming a doormat or caving each time I've set a boundary - somethings, like gentle touches and respectful words are non-negotiable. But it does mean being willing to honor a change of heart.

If the boundary I set wasn't respectful to both of us or if it becomes unnecessary or inappropriate, a midstream change of plans is absolutely called for.

After cleaning the crumbs myself, I eventually joined Jackson upstairs and apologized. I explained why I reacted the way I did and how it should have been different. And I acknowledged that the boundary I set was a mistake and no longer in place. A hug, a kiss and "I forgive you, Mommy" and we were on our way downstairs to share a smoothie. And when we got to the kitchen he noticed, "Mommy, you cleaned up the bread for me. Thank you."

What he learned with this change of plans was so much more valuable than anything cold, hard consistency would have shown him. I'm thankful for my son's willingness to accept a change of heart and move on.

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 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.

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...