Day 62: Daring to Dream

My dream has always been to be a wife and mother. College was merely preparation for a backup plan should Prince Charming not ride in on his white horse soon enough. But that backup plan was never very definitive. I figured I'd need a career of some sort, but never really felt passionate about anything.

Thankfully I was married and pregnant when I graduated with my second bachelor's degree, and thus spared the grueling task of muddling my way through indifference toward a career path.

Little did I know, however, that becoming a wife and mother as I had dreamed would also stir up passion for a traditional career. (I say traditional because mothering is a valid career choice!) Suddenly I cared so intensely about so many things, and I wanted to use my talents (and expensive, so far monetarily useless degrees) to make a difference in my community and the world.

I thought about all the things I could see myself doing: homeopath, naturopath, doula, home birth midwife, lactation consultant... But all those things would require more schooling and take me away from my children, and my responsibility and greatest passion still remained with them. These are things that the future may hold for me once my children are grown, but they weren't right for our family's present.

But I couldn't shake the feeling that I wasn't fulfilling my potential. Not that mothering wasn't important enough or challenging enough - God knows it is - just that there was something else I was supposed to be doing, other parts of me that weren't being utilized and challenged.

I worked so hard to earn degrees, then even harder to educate myself and grow as a person and a mother that I felt like keeping all of it to myself was a waste, almost selfish. (And now my fingers hover over the delete button because that all seems much too self-important. But I'm learning not to shy away from my strengths and abilities and not to sell myself short. So yes. I do have something to offer the world! *blush*)

After some time on discussion formus with some amazing women (who I hope to meet in real life some day!), I finally landed on writing as a way to impact the lives of women in my community and those far beyond my physical reach. This I could accomplish without ever leaving my children's sides. And while it doesn't allow me to give the hands-on support I'd love to offer (to every women on the planet), it's an opportunity to exercise some creativity and fine tune a talent in a way that hopefully brings something positive to someone else.

I know I can name a few women whose writings were pivotal in my mothering journey thus far, and I'd be humbled and honored to be a source of knowledge, inspiration, or encouragement for another woman in the same way.

But freelance writing isn't exactly an easy road. In fact, odds are you'll put yourself out there over and over only to be rejected over and over, especially as an unpublished writer. So each time I'd start working toward a submission, I'd find an excuse to give up long before I sent anything off.

I never admitted out loud that writing was one of my dreams, and especially not that I wanted to do it for any reason other than than a paycheck, because saying that it meant something to me would make it that much more painful and embarrassing to be rejected.

For two years, fear of failure kept me from ever trying. It even kept me from figuring out what exactly that dream of writing looked like, because entertaining the idea only led to visions of the inevitable reply: not interested and negative self-talk: it'll never happen.

It was somehow more tolerable to reject myself than to take a risk at having my work rejected by someone else, even though that meant cheating myself out of a chance at acceptance and success.

Then I started this project.

This didn't start as a writing project, and even now it isn't a writing project. But it is a space for me to take an honest look at myself and to challenge myself to do and be better for my children. And thanks to lots of encouragement from those of you reading along on this journey, I realized that writing is part of that.

I don't ever want my boys to see themselves for less than what they are, to write themselves off or downplay their abilities. I want them to be confident, take pride in their talents and use them to accomplish their dreams, whatever they may be.

They're not going to learn that by watching me squander my own gifts. If I want that for them, I'd better show it to them.

So as I write this, my first published article is appearing in a magazine - a small, local, free magazine...but I'm published. It's certainly not the fulfillment of my dream, and it's not work that I'm passionate about, but it's a stepping stone down the path, and one that I couldn't have taken if I hadn't put myself out there.

And now the challenge is to make time - somehow, someway - and take risks to keep moving toward the goal of having something meaningful published in a more prominent place.

Rejection is going to be part of the process, but after putting my writing and so much of my "dirty laundry" out in the open for everyone, including me, to see here, I'm ready to face that fear. I know what I'm capable of, what my gifts are, and more importantly who I am, and none of that is defined by whether or not someone else accepts or rejects my work.

So if I've given any inspiration or encouragement to any of you reading, please know that you've given me much more in return!

Day 61: Learning to Fail

Failure is not an option in a black-and-white world. Even small failures are associated with judgment, shame, inferiority, inadequacy, and worthlessness. I've always liked to live in my comfort zone, and it used to be that the rare occasion when I was forced out, I became a caged animal. Only I was on the outside of the cage pacing back and forth to get back in.

I tried the things I knew I'd succeed at, and avoided everything else at all costs. I almost never put myself out there if failure was a possibility, so after calculating my odds, I usually decided to stay where it was safe rather than jump.

As you can imagine, looking back in my life revels a sea of missed opportunities and things I never tried. It's a little sad to think about all the fun I could've had and abilities I could've developed if I had just taken a small step outside myself. But what's even more disappointing is realizing that passing on those things and the experiences they provided stunted my growth.

Limiting myself to comfortable experiences kept me from maturing into a well-rounded adult, and it's one of the reasons that I'm now learning so many life skills along side my two year old, sometimes at a slower rate than he is.

The beautiful thing about motherhood, is that I don't get the choice to stay comfortable. Failure is a daily occurrence, and there's no backing out or shying away from this job. It's in your face all day every day.

I've spent that past two and a half uncomfortable years working on basic things I could and probably "should" have figured out before I hit college. And now that I'm emerging from the bubble I created out of fear and insecurity, I'm realizing how exhilarating it is to take a chance, and how the process and experience trump the arbitrary success or failure at the end.

Repeatedly falling on my face and picking myself back up as a mother has opened my eyes to resilience and perseverance I never knew I had. It has taught me that who I am, how I see myself, and whether or not I'm okay does not ride on success or failure. And it shows my children what took me so long to learn; that failure is a necessary, useful and beautiful part of life.

Learning to accept and even welcome failure brings me one step closer to embracing freedom and trading in control for trust. And that is no small success.

Day 40: A Year's Work Pays Off

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.

As parents, we're constantly teaching, consciously or not. Sometimes our children exhibit a new behavior and we wonder why or where they got it, only to realize they picked it up from watching us. Oh, were you there when I was kicking the dog for jumping on the baby? Oops! Other times we teach the same phrases, actions, and guidelines over and over for months on end without seeing a return. But if we hang in there, that miraculous, long-awaited day comes when we see all our hard work pay off. We experienced one of these at ECFE today.

Jackson was across the room from me playing with his favorite tractor, complete with a farmer and trailer full of animals, when he was approached by the oldest (3) and largest boy in the room. As the boy grabbed the tractor and started to pull, Jackson held on tight and searched the room for me with an uncharacteristically calm face. I stayed where I was and simply said, "Talk to him about it."

He turned to the boy and said, "I'm going to keep this." The boy continued to pull, and a teacher moved in to moderate. She told the boy to listen, and asked Jackson to tell him again, which he did with a little more gusto. When the boy persisted, the teacher encouraged Jack to repeat himself, and he replied with a strong, "It's not okay for you to take this from me." Finally, the boy took notice and they were able to play with the coveted toy together peacefully.

I sat back and watched in amazement and with intense pride. There was no fit, there was no yelling, not even a moment of reactivity despite that fact that his feelings were strong. He maintained composure, spoke strongly, but respectfully, and stood his ground in an intimidating circumstance. These are the things I've been consciously teaching for over a year, and he was finally able to access them without my guidance. Hooray!

It may feel like all the repetition is for nothing, like they're just not getting it. But the truth is they get it in their own time. Today was the day Jackson was emotionally ready to tackle this situation on his own, not yesterday or a day sooner. And tomorrow he may need guidance again. But at least I know the groundwork we're laying isn't for naught. No matter how many times you tell yourself, sometimes a reminder like this makes it that much easier to go on repeating the same lessons over and over and over.

And now that I know he's added this skill to his communication tool belt, maybe it's time for me to catch up!
 

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 27: Yes I Can!

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 you think of me, I'll think of me. 

And what I think of me, I'll be.

 This is a quote that was given to me by our dear Teacher Ellen at the completion of our first ECFE class when Jackson was just a few months old. As of recent, I've had the chance to really refocus on this concept.

I've been finding myself telling Jackson more often what he's not capable of: 

"You're showing me you can't control your body, so I'm going to help you." 

"If you can't stay by me, you'll have to ride in the cart." 

"You can't stack the DVD cases because you showed me you couldn't leave the discs in the case."

"We're going to put the microphone away because you showed me you weren't capable of keeping the cord out of your mouth." (Interesting side note: As we've started to take care of the candida, he's stopped chewing on everything!)

It seems innocent enough, but it's a game-changer. The more I tell him he can't, the less I see him showing me how capable he really is. I've tried to be very conscious and careful about outright labeling him, (You're shy...You're sensitive...), knowing that doing so puts him in a box that he may not break out of. But in focusing on the can'ts instead of the cans, I've been doing exactly the same thing. I'm deciding for him what he is and isn't capable of, and he's living up to those expectations. Why try when Mom has already decided I can't do it? 

It takes a lot of fortitude to prove someone wrong. Proving someone right, on the other hand, is an easier challenge to meet. So if he's going to prove me right, I  better give him the right thing to prove! The more I tell him he is capable, the more he'll feel capable. The more capable he feels, the more capable he shows me he is. Today I saw it in action. 

The coop has mini carts, and Jackson loves to feel like he's shopping independently. The only problem is that in the past, he's had too hard a time keeping his hands on his cart. It's not exactly a kid-friendly place: Scoops and bulk bins right at his level, tongs and fresh foods within reach - it's a whole foods playground in his eyes. Don't get me wrong, it's adorable when he holds up a jar of maple syrup to inspect the label and make sure it has green-light ingredients before adding it to his cart, but it's been impossible to keep him close and stop him from filling his cart with things we're not buying.

I've dealt with this by putting a ban on the shopping cart and wearing him on my back, but he still asks for the cart every time. Today when he asked I gave him the usual, "You've shown me that it's too hard to stay close and keep your hands to yourself so we're not going to use the cart." But as I started to put the carrier on I had a moment of clarity. It was time to practice what I'd been preaching to myself. 

I got down on his level and said, "Jackson, I changed my mind. I know you are capable of staying close and keeping your hands to yourself. I'd like to give you a chance to show me how capable you are." For 30 minutes we shopped together. He was all smiles and I could see how proud he was of himself, how responsible he felt. He needed a few reminders (which were all phrased positively, "I know you're capable, please show me.") and a little extra guidance by the end, but he really rose to the occasion. In fact he did so well that one of the other shoppers asked him, "Are you always this good at staying with Mommy?" He beamed when he said, "Yes!" 

Of course there isn't anything magical about this. It's not a tool to manipulate his behavior, nor is "hands to yourself" the goal. The goal is to instill confidence, to show trust, and to inspire him to fulfill his potential and grow. But if in the process the behavior happens to fall in line with what makes my life easier, I'll take the bonus!

Day 20: Testing, Testing

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.

Tests have always been my thing. Multiple choice, fill in the blank, short answer, essay...you name it, I'll ace it because I love answers. A test has a perfectly defined beginning and end, and with the end comes a sense of accomplishment and completion. Just talking about it makes me nostalgic for my college days.

Well, school's over and testing has taken on a whole new meaning. In fact, I don't think it's even fair to call any part of life or parenting a "test" because there is no end and there are certainly no answers. My favorite thing about school has become my least favorite thing about parenting. I'd like to say I've been acing the tests coming my way recently, but I'm not sure what a passing grade looks like.

In the past few days, Jackson has been experiencing tantrums. This is new and so out of character for him that it's really quite traumatic for all of us. It's very clear that they're coming as a result of his body's detox process, but that doesn't make them any easier to deal with in the moment. It's obvious he's feeling out of control, confused and conflicted when it happens, and don't I know none of those feel good. He'll ask me to leave, then scream louder when I move toward the door and beg me to stay. He'll say he wants to be held, then when he gets into my arms, he'll fight his way out, screaming. His body and brain are just saying "no" to everything and all he wants to do is say "yes" and feel calm. If the test is helping him find a way to calm down, I'm failing

This has led us to his first public outbursts. For the first time, I'm the mom with the kid lying on the floor of the store. It feels worse than I imagined. When it happens, the whirlwind of thought going on in my head is dizzying. It's hard to focus and get a grip on myself or him. If the test is avoiding a public scene, I'm failing.

 I'm acutely aware of each person walking by and watching, and I even find myself saying things to him that I'm hoping they hear: "Jackson this isn't appropriate behavior in the store. I want you to be respectful of the other shoppers. Do you see all these people? Your yelling hurts their ears and your body is in the way." If the test is tuning out the world to focus on him and the need he's expressing, I'm failing.

As the stress builds and the desire to avoid external judgment squeezes down on me, I find it harder to be patient. I start to physically remove him, which only makes matters worse because a lack of control over his world is what caused the ruckus to begin with. If the test is helping him feel powerful and in control of himself, I'm failing.

Eventually I'm able to talk him down. Maybe we identify something he wants or wants to do, then draw the connection between leaving the store and getting there. Maybe I identify what he wanted in the first place and can accommodate that need or find a suitable substitute. If the test is stopping the tantrum, I fail because time was up before I could finish filling in the little circles.

But If the test is surviving and even loving him through the storm, I think I'll give myself a passing grade. If it's acknowledging and allowing him to express the extreme unrest and discomfort that are accompanying his body's healing process, I'm pretty sure I'd get the credits. And if it's standing strong against the temptation to use fear, shame, bribery or punishment to manipulate him, I think I am acing it.

I'm teaching him that I really do love him unconditionally. He's seeing first hand that he is secure, that nothing could ever make me abandon him. And, although his little brain might not process it to the full extent, I'm showing him that he matters to me more than the shopping, more than the passersby, more than our schedule, and more than my own feelings. Because let's face it, it's embarrassing. And it would be easy to prioritize that feeling over your child's need for acceptance and support through a tantrum.

I may not like this new kind of test, especially since no one has the answer key, but I'm doing my best to rise to the challenge of living in the answer-less world of parenting. In the end, it'll probably be my kids who get to hand down the grades, and I can only hope that the work I'm doing to build a healthy relationship with them now will pay off when that day comes.

Day 17: Cheater, Cheater, Chocolate Chip Eater

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 home all day with no one but my kids. And all day the giant bag of Ghirardelli chocolate chips stares at me through my see-through cupboards (damn see-through cupboards!). All day they talk to me: "Remember how delicious we are? We know you want us!" And all day the candida talks to me: "FEED ME! I don't care if you have to give up your first-born, just eat those chocolate chips!!" No one's watching...no one will know...But my body knows. And my kids' bodies know.

Our terrible day yesterday actually went pretty well, all things considered. I stayed calm, helped Jackson even though I felt frustrated and we had a pretty peaceful evening after his body settled down. Today, after indulging in a generous handful of chocolate chips, is quite a different story. I've been short tempered and trying to control his behavior. He had to help me calm down twice. That's right, my two year old had to help me, his parent, calm down. It's very sweet and kind of impressive that he knows how, but I'm totally ashamed that he ever has reason to. 

First, when I was getting angry about him dragging toys all over the house and leaving them on the floor (unfair expectations, maybe??) he put his finger to his lips and started blowing out pretend birthday candles - something I taught him to help him breathe through big feelings. Then, when I was upset that he wasn't going to the potty when I told him to (without providing my physical presence, which he needs in order to help him follow through without distraction) he walked slowly toward me with arms outstretched, compassionate eyes and the calmest body language I've ever seen and just put his hands on me, then hugged me. Talk about a wake up call!

I feel like I should be on a Public Service Announcement: "This is your brain. This is your brain on candida." If you've never felt it, you probably think the cravings are crazy and the post-sugar behavior doesn't make sense. But this absolutely solidified the correlation between food, body and mood for me. So back on the diet I go. Strictly. And with a good attitude and optimistic outlook...expecting success.

I could easily use cheating as an excuse to give up and say I can't do it, but my kids deserve more than that. If I can't do it for my health or for how liberated I'll feel when the cravings and sugar-possessed behaviors have passed, then I'll do it so I can be a better mom to my two little men. They deserve better from me, and I intend to give it to them.

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.