Day 52: White-Knuckle Parenting

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.

One of the things this project is helping me realize is that white-knuckle parenting works about as well as white-knuckle sobriety.

If you've ever loved an addict, you know first-hand what I mean. There's believable determination, a promise to do better, that this time will be different, only to be followed up by an inevitable relapse, another disappointment. Trust is shattered along with your dreams of a better life, and you find yourself right back where you started, maybe even farther down.

Sheer will power is no way to make a change in life. But it's where I've directed so much of my energy over the years. Coming out of a typical childhood where the operative word is simply "obey," I wasn't well-versed in other options. Will power was how I approached everything, as if life was one big pre-vacation diet. If only it were that simple.

When it comes down to it, will power is just another way of saying fight. In a competitive view of the world, will power makes sense - white-knuckle parenting and sobriety for that matter make sense. If everything is a competition with a winner and a loser, all you have to do is fight hard enough to be the winner.

But as my worldview has expanded, I've come to question this philosophy that pits me against everyone and everything in my life, this outlook that is outrageously self-centered. Who wants to go through life fighting? I've seen those people, and they don't look happy. They struggle through relationships (the ones that survive, that is), their guard never comes down, they never get to just rest and be at peace. I've been that person, and I wasn't happy.

Life isn't a competition. No one has to lose so I can win. When I fall back into this default view, I set myself up for all the things I desperately want to avoid, especially as a wife and a mother; power struggles, intimidation, coercion, disrespect, a search for the win at any cost - at anyone's cost. And when I try to use will power to change these things, I only feed that competitive nature. 

In a relationship-centered world, cooperation, not competition, is the name of the game. Instead of looking for win-lose, you look for win-win (forgive the cliche, but there are no simpler term to describe it). The goal isn't to come out on top, it's to find a way to reach the top together. It's a radical change that will power can't provide.

Will power will, in fact, sabotage the effort to change because it's inherently opposed to meeting needs. And this is exactly why white-knuckle parenting, like white-knuckle sobriety, is always doomed to failure. Will power requires you to ignore your needs in order to make a behavioral (read: surface) change. It's an effort to make a change from the outside in, when true change can only come from the inside out.

So I will just say no. But not to my behavior. To the competition I've set up with my defaults, to the internal power struggle.

As I accept that my children's behaviors are expressions of need, I'll extend the same understanding to myself. Getting to the root of undesirable behaviors in myself is a little scary, but not as scary as lifetime of fighting them.

Day 30: A Better Day...Sort Of

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.

After sleeping on our fiasco from yesterday, I feel much better. I woke up with new resolve to find joy in our day no matter the circumstances. And whether it was the attitude adjustment or my body finally recovering from the weekend food splurge, the exhaustion and resistance I woke with yesterday were gone.

Circumstances today have proved to actually be very similar to yesterday, so why is it a better day? Because I decided it would be. It's that simple, and I am that much in control of how our days go. We had a baby wearing meeting this morning, and getting out of the house was as much of a struggle as yesterday. But instead of rushing, reprimanding and ignoring Jackson's needs, I chose to work with him.

He ran away when I said it was time to go potty (a requirement before we can leave the house), but I chose not to take it personally, not to see it as disrespect but as a way of communicating. Instead of trying to change his behavior from the outside with demands, I told him we were going to get goat's yogurt at the coop before our meeting, knowing that would motivate him internally. No potty meant no yogurt, and his love of yogurt won out. I had to remind him three more times as we were getting bundled up, and each time he chose yogurt. Handling it this way made me feel less pressure and anxiety, made him feel in control of his choice to go potty and get his jacket on, and saved us from a power struggle.

Our trip to the coop was pleasant, and he only needed a few reminders of how capable he was of staying close and keeping his hands on his mini-cart, much like last time. When we got to the library for our meeting, I let him run free for a few minutes, then tried to herd him to the meeting room. We teetered on the edge of a tantrum because he wanted to have the "earmuffs" (headphones connected to the computer), but I kept reminding him, "Talk first. Talk first." This is something we've been working on for a few months - talking first before he reacts to me or a peer, whether that means yelling, grabbing, or running away. A gentle reminder that the librarian doesn't allow yelling was enough to calm him down, and he decided it would be okay to try the earmuffs after our meeting was over.

After our meeting and "earmuff" time, we checked out our books and headed for the door. Again, a tantrum loomed as I tried to help him with his jacket. We went over the quiet rule and "talk first" again, then spent at least 5 minutes (which seemed like 30) discussing the things he wanted to do: read his new French book, listen to his French CD, watch his German and Spanish DVDs, make sushi rolls for lunch. Finally when he wasn't feeling resistance from me (which was probably still a surprise to him after yesterday), his own resistance faded and he happily put on his jacket because home was the place we could do all those things.

It takes time - a lot of time - to communicate this way and to involve him in every step of our day. I can choose to put my time and energy into him this way, knowing that the result is a happier, more confident little boy and a power struggle-free day, or I can allow time and energy to be drained from all of us by the negativity that results when a day is imposed on him.

It's a pretty easy choice when I look at the big picture, but some days, like yesterday, I get lazy and forget. I'm so glad he doesn't allow me to stay there. And I'm so proud that I've raised him to be confident enough to show me and even tell me when I've stepped away from where he and I both know we should be. He reacts the way he did yesterday because I've shown him that he deserves to be treated with respect, that he doesn't have to allow anyone, even me, to treat him in a way that isn't loving and kind. That's a huge victory, and the bright side I was missing last night.

Day 29: So This is a Tantrum

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.

Holy. Crap. I thought we had seen Jackson's first tantrums, but apparently that was just child's play. This was the real thing. There was no gentle fall to the floor in protest, no loud complaints, no statement of his need. Instead it was like he was possessed; nothing coming from his mouth was coherent, the screams were louder and more violent than anything I have ever heard from a human being, and he physically fought me so hard I finally had to throw him over my shoulder with no jacket and trudge through the wind and snow to the car just to save everyone in the chiropractor's office from enduring the rest of it.

Here's the kicker: It was all my fault.

This isn't just the mommy guilt talking. This is the reality. I started us down the path toward this tantrum before breakfast, and instead of hitting the breaks, I accelerated through it, causing even more damage. Here's what happened:

I gave myself a free pass on the detox diet Saturday because we had friends over for food and drinks, and I've been exhausted and irritable since. Today was no exception, and on top of it Jackson decided to get up an hour early. I managed to keep Max asleep which meant the living room was off-limits for the morning. Of course that means it's the only place Jackson wanted to be. So I spent the morning hushing and herding him and, I'm sure, making him feel unable to do anything "right." I had set the tone for the day and it reeked of resistance.

We decided to go to a friend's house before our chiropractic appointment, which may sound like a positive turn to the day, but actually made things worse. I should have been realistic about how long it would take to get ready and not scheduled anything in between. I'm not capable of being calm, patient or responsive when I'm rushing to get us out of the house; I know this about myself and should just avoid putting myself in the situation.

We had a power struggle over going potty before we left and with each minute that ticked by I got more aggravated. In hindsight, I think Jackson was showing me with his refusal to pee and incessant request to play with me upstairs that he needed a calm day at home with no appointments, but I ignored it. Instead I got mad and read him the riot act about "not listening" (aka not doing exactly as I told him with no questions asked regardless of his current feelings or needs or how unloving I was in my request). Let's just say it was a bad morning full of things I'm not proud of. We didn't get going fast enough to fit in the play date, so we headed straight for our appointment.

The car ride provided me with enough "alone time" to calm down and compose myself. I apologized and told him how much I love him, but was met with silence, which was really strange. So when we got there I reiterated those things as I was getting him out of the car seat and gave him a kiss, but he still seemed pretty quiet. I saw a problem and didn't take the time to address it.

When we got in he went to the toy box like usual and chose a basket of pretend food to bring in while we all got adjusted. But he wasn't moving fast enough for my liking (God forbid anyone have to wait a minute or two because I allowed my child some transition time) so I grabbed his hand and started toward the room. He protested loudly and said he needed the bread. Fortunately he found it right away because I had no intention of waiting - that's how far out of my mind his needs and feelings were today.

As our chiropractor opened the door for us Jack started saying something about squash (can you tell how closely I was paying attention?), shook his food basket and finally threw it on the floor and started yelling and crying when I turned and brought Max into the adjustment room. He knew I wasn't connected, he knew I had been resisting him all morning and treating him with disrespect, now I wasn't even listening to what he was saying and even walking away from him and he had had enough. 

He cried and yelled as Max and I were adjusted and refused to come into the room. All I could think about was what the other person in the room was thinking about my "lack of discipline" (strange passers by are one thing, but when you know the philosophy of your audience it becomes exponentially harder to ignore them and focus on what you know your child needs). I nursed him for a minute in the changing room to try to calm him down, but for some reason felt like we just needed to go. Again, not taking into account what he needed at that moment. I threw all the fruit back into the basket and shoved him out of the room crying. When I tried to get his jacket on things really escalated. By this point I was so far beyond frazzled I didn't know what to do, so over my shoulder he went.

At the car he wouldn't get into his car seat so I tried to physically force him. He got angrier than I've ever seen a person get and made sounds I've never heard before. All the while poor Max had been along for the ride, but now he was starting to get scared and cry. I was feeling absolutely desperate to stop the tantrum, but somehow I was totally disconnected from all the things I know and believe and I kept grasping for ways to externally control him instead of meeting his needs. 

Was I ever going to get him home? Was he going to freeze to death before I could get a handle on the situation? Was the screaming ever going to end? Were people passing us in the parking lot going to call the police? In an almost out of body experience I found myself trying to force him into his seat with my hand over his mouth, his eyes wide with fear and rage. Oh no! How did we get here!? I finally woke up. I took him in my arms and started bawling. We sat in the front seat together while he calmed down enough to get a few words out. I asked what he was so angry about and he replied, "Because Mommy wasn't treating me very nice today." Devastated doesn't begin to describe how I felt then or how I feel now. This isn't one of those times I can chalk it up to a learning experience; there's no bright side. I flat out failed all of us. And I am completely ashamed of myself.

His every movement had been critiqued and controlled from the moment he woke up, and I had been short, impatient, and disrespectful all morning, meanwhile expecting the opposite from him. I was putting all that on his little two-year-old shoulders and it was too much weight for him to carry. On top of that, I ignored all the signs of distress along the way and even failed to "show up" for his tantrum. It was not his fault, it was mine.

Rather than feeling a desire to meet the need he was showing me, I was feeling angry that I couldn't stop him and mortified because everyone in the office had a front row seat. Rather than loving him, comforting him and helping him through his intense feelings, I tried to smother the symptoms while I fueled the fire. In every way, I was more concerned about the people around us than I was about us - more importantly him.

In hindsight I know the severity of the situation was because of his own detox process and probably my cheating on Saturday. For the second day in a row he woke up from his nap drenched in sweat and his mood and self control are definitely tied closely to what's happening in his body. But none of that changes the seriousness of my poor choices. 

So if you want authenticity, here it is! You've just been invited into the worst day of our two and a half years. I'm trying to be gentle with myself (and I hope you will be too!), but I figure I might as well ride the failure train into self-beating station for the night. Breathe in...breathe out...It's over and I can't change it. I can only move on and thank God for a new day up ahead.

Day 26: Nobody Likes Consequences

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.

 Natural or not, consequences suck. Because of my desire to save my children from anything that sucks, I think I may have been unintentionally shielding Jackson from natural consequences, and in doing so depriving him of important learning opportunities. Since I started this project, this has been one of the major shifts. Today we got some practice.

We went to "school" (parent-child classes through the school district's ECFE program) today, and as usual Jackson was very excited to see friends, teachers and toys. We got out of the house without a hitch and were only reasonably late, a great feat for us considering class starts at 9am. 

When playtime turned into circle time with songs, Jackson struggled with the transition and leaving toys behind. He struggled with waiting to use a bucket of tools his teacher was saving for a special song. He struggled with leaving the tools to wash up for snack time. Through these transitions, I tried to give him as much freedom as was appropriate within the structure of the classroom, trying to model and enforce respect for the teachers and other families. And we made it.

The final transition before heading home is moving from the classroom to the gross motor room full of tricycles, climbers, slides and swings. In the winter, it's one of very few places he can really expend some energy. Needless to say, I wanted to go to the motor room. And he wanted to go to the motor room, but the transition came too quickly for him. He wasn't ready to give up his "front end loader" complete with policeman driver and farmer in the bucket "because that's his favorite place to sleep." 

I explained that in order to go to the motor room, we had to help everyone clean up, then go potty. This is not new as we've had the same routine for almost a year at school. His response was, "I just want to stay here and play with my bulldozer." So I explained further, "By not putting the truck away you're showing me that you're choosing not to go to the motor room today, and we will go home instead." Which was met with what I hear all too often: negotiation. Slowly moving away he declared, "I do want to go to the motor room. I'm just going to finish playing with my bulldozer, then go to the motor room." I clarified at least three more times, emphasizing that by not following the classroom requirement of cleaning before we climb, he was showing me his choice to skip the motor room and go home. 

Finally I had to close negotiations. When I got down and put my hands on his waist to talk to him, he started to resist me and complain. I told him it wasn't my job to hold his body up and gently let him fall to the floor. This was the moment of truth. We were either going to have a massive meltdown or he would recover. Hopefully he didn't see the fear in my eyes. 

In the brief seconds he was on the floor, I could actually see him processing his options. He chose self-regulation. He stood up and I helped him put the truck away. Of course in his world truck on shelf meant boy in motor room. So I took his hand, talked through the choice he had made, and nonchalantly added, "Okay. Let's go home." Then I braced myself while I bundled him up and got Max in his car seat, just waiting for the backlash. It never came.

He reiterated that he wanted to go to the motor room and I asked why he couldn't. He talked about his choice and added, "I can try again next time." He got it! It clicked that there was a window of opportunity that he had chosen to pass up. And I got the chance to tell him he was experiencing a consequence - something that happens because of a choice we make.

It was tempting to let him off the hook, especially since he's been having such a tough time through the candida detox process (as evidenced by the previous transition difficulties of the day). But I would have let a significant teaching moment pass us by if I had. And this one lesson is going to bring us so much peace in the near future, that risking a few moments of disappointment and sadness was well worth it.

Day 22: Flippety Flop

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 think if I hear one more contradiction from Jackson I'm going to lose it. He pushes his plate away saying, "I don't want my food." As soon as I comply and take the plate he yells, "I DO want my food!" I let him decide what we were going to do today and he chose the mall. Then as I'm trying to get his coat on: "I don't want to go to the mall!" So I tell him we won't go and start taking the coat off only to be met with: "I DOOOOO want to go the the mall." Aaaaahhhh! 

Sometimes it's a delay tactic, sometimes he's just trying to avoid a step he doesn't want on the way to what he does want (i.e. jacket on to get to the mall), sometimes I think he doesn't know what he wants, and other times I'm pretty sure it's an ingenious plan to drive me out of my mind. And it's working.

I try to give him as many choices as I can through the day so he feels like an active participant in our day - like he is in control of his life instead of life happening to him. Sometimes this makes this easier, sometimes much more difficult. I'm so glad he feels confident to ask for what he wants and make decisions for himself, I just want him to ask for what he actually wants!

I struggle with finding a balance between allowing natural consequence and allowing him to change his mind. I want to honor a genuine change of heart, because we all change our minds sometimes. But I can't allow the back and forth for fun to continue because it's a serious disruption to our day and a serious annoyance that I can't cope with indefinitely. 

I'll look at this as a good opportunity for him to experience natural consequences at low cost. I will give him the same opportunity to make choices, confirm that choice, then follow through with it regardless of the instant cry for the opposite. This won't be easy, because anything that makes him less than happy is hard for me, but it's important to learn these lessons now on a small scale so that I can save him from the big lessons with greater cost later in life. Investing in the future is never simple because it usually makes the present more challenging, but it's always worth the effort. Hopefully he's make the connection quickly and relatively painlessly! 

Day 19: Eat it or Else

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.

Sometimes I wonder how I end up so far from where I want to be...

Jackson has been amazing through all the diet restrictions and we're equally amazed at the healing his body is undergoing already. My sweet boy doesn't incessantly ask for bananas or granola, not even toast, which was a favorite. He happily chooses between brussels sprouts and collard greens for supper (greens won tonight) and eats mashed cauliflower as if he didn't miss mashed potatoes at all. 

Overall, things haven't been so bad on the food front. He's adjusting perfectly. I on the other hand, have struggled to keep up with some changes. One of these is a significant reduction in the amount of food he's eating. And I've let it become a power struggle. It's one that doesn't need to be fought and no one wins. 

I've always believed that he was the only one capable of knowing when he was hungry and full and that he should never be forced to eat or restricted because of that. I simply want him to listen to his body's cues. Up to this point that has meant watching him consume mass quantities of food. But now that his body is digesting properly and he's absorbing more of what he eats, he doesn't need to eat as much. 

But watching him so dramatically reduce his food intake so quickly made me nervous. Then after a few successive small meals, I got anxious. First it was, "Just a few more bites." And before I knew it, "You're not getting out of this chair until you eat five more bites." What I got instead of peace of mind about getting 'enough' food in his body was a screaming little boy who couldn't understand why I was taking away his power to decide what his body needed. Duh.

Fortunately, the screaming jolted my brain and brought me back to a state of conscious parenting - parenting based on trust not fear. So I utilized one of our "tools" and decided to start over. Fortunately, Jackson is quick to forgive and we moved on with our day.

I wish I hadn't had to stray so very far before I came back to center, but I'm thankful that I have a little boy who won't allow me to make those mistakes unchecked.

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...

Day 7: One Great Week

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
I'm swamped. In over my head. In the weeds. Whatever you want to call it, there's more that needs to be done in a day than time available to do it. And unless my children miraculously and simultaneously sleep for 24 consecutive hours, there's no possibility I'll catch up anytime soon.

Some days I let it become overwhelming. When I really let it get to me, I want to quit trying, because rather than providing a sense of accomplishment and satisfaction, the small dent I make in the long list just leaves me hopeless about how long the rest will take.

Not today. Today I'm going to pat myself on the back for my ability to juggle all my roles and tasks. I'm co-leading a Holistic Moms Network chapter that's growing like crazy. I'm contributing to a La Leche League group that is literally changing lives with mothering and breastfeeding support. I'm editor and contributor for my husband's food and wine website. I just started writing for a local magazine. And that's all on top of my full-time job of managing our household: cooking, cleaning, laundry, finances, shopping, car maintenance, home maintenance, health maintenance, pet care, family and friend relations...Oh yeah, and then there are the two kids who top the list and whose needs I attend to at all times while working on the rest of the list.

I'm not going to be overwhelmed today, and I'm not going to feel discouraged. I'm going to feel proud and satisfied. And every time the negative feelings start to creep back in, I'm going to read this list and congratulate myself for taking excellent care of my family, contributing to my community, and choosing things that matter over a vacuumed rug or organized filing cabinet.

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
Jackson has been nursing a lot lately. This relatively new, and I know it's linked to his eczema, the remedy we last used, and the trauma...er...excitement of the holidays. It will pass and he will return to his nap-and-bed-time-only routine. But in the meantime, I've been struggling with a lot of resistance.

I've said no, tried to distract, limited the length of time, and even felt slightly resentful after saying yes sometimes. I explained that Mommy gets to decide when she shares her milk, just like he gets to decide when he shares his toys (as if there's a comparison between an object and a loving relationship!). As he picked up on the resistance, he became more insistent, probably because what he really needed was for me to openly and lovingly accept where he was at. So I'm doing that now. I nurse him every time he presents the need as soon as I'm able. And all of a sudden, he's fine with waiting when I can't stop what I'm doing. He's more than happy to stop when I need to get up. He's not resisting my needs because I'm not resisting his. Boy does this feel better than trying to make it about "respect" or "boundaries."

I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.
The frequent nursing has definitely driven me nuts at times. From the outside looking in, most people would label him clingy or needy right now, but I know better. I see him unabashedly asking to have his needs met, a skill most adults lack. I see him staying in touch with his secure home base as he goes through incredible social, emotional, and language development spurts. I see him feeling overwhelmed, insecure, angry, sad, frustrated, or lonely, and asking for support in a healthy way rather than acting out. I love that he's in tune with his needs and willing to let me to help him.

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.
We've had a spectacular week. I feel free. Jackson feels free. My husband even noticed and commented on the difference after day 2, before I had even had a chance to talk to him about my new pet project. This in itself is motivation to keep going, to say nothing of the humbling responses from some very wonderful fellow mommies. 

But I'm finding that the format of the blog is requiring too much of my time to possibly keep up with indefinitely. So instead of writing what is essentially four posts in one for every day of the week, I will give myself some grace and list the mantras, affirmations, declarations, or whatever else you want to call them at the top and do a single post. I will forgive myself for being a slow and deliberate writer who is probably too much of a perfectionist to be satisfied with a quick post, and provide myself with conditions that allow for success in all areas of my life.

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.