Day 144: Presence

I talk a lot about mental and emotional presence, but I've been noticing lately that my physical presence has been sorely lacking with Jackson.

Not needing any help with the Easter loot

I'm home with the boys all day every day and can literally count on one hand the number of times I've been away in as many months. So it feels like I couldn't possibly be any more physically present, but the truth is sometimes I'm here without really "being here."

When my attention is pulled in too many directions at once, I forget that physical presence at this stage of development literally means standing next to him, holding his hand, helping him.

On a busy morning when we're trying to get to an appointment on time (riiiiiight), it's far too tempting to make a request while I tend to other things.

Please go potty while I clean up breakfast.
Could you please pick out a few toys to bring with us while I pack a snack?
Put on your shoes while I get Max dressed, please!

Whether or not it feels like it to me, these are complex tasks for him.

Let's break it down: 

Man of many hats

Go up to a room filled with toys (let me get this straight, I'm *not* supposed to be playing in the play room?), choose a few (what size? how many? which ones? they're *all* my favorite!), place them in a bag (but this is my super awesome hat which cannot be filled with anything other than my head!), walk past your bedroom (but I'm not fully dressed until I'm wearing a second shirt and socks on my hands!) and go to the front door (but I want to eat the snacks nowwww!).

On top of that, I'm sending him conflicting messages. I ask him to complete a task, but I don't consistently follow through. Sometimes getting distracted is okay, other times I mean business and it's not. How is he supposed to know that "choose some toys" has a time limit when one day he's in the playroom for fifteen minutes "choosing toys" while I get ready (and am secretly thankful for his distraction) and the next day he's hearing me holler "come down" within three minutes?

What could be more important? <3

If I'm too busy to help him with things, I'm *too* busy and need to reassess our day. If something isn't important enough for me to stop what I'm doing to help him, it's not important enough for me to request of him.

This is a great example of unrealistic expectations, and I'm going to use this week to focus on making requests within his capabilities and consistently offering my physical presence and help when he needs it.

Day 134: No Fun Zone

Growing up we had a license plate that read NFZ. The family joke was that it stood for No Fun Zone. Well, I guess it was a joke. When the ratio of truth to exaggeration is teetering in the wrong direction, it can be hard to tell.

You might be thinking: Oh, how sad that her parents didn't let her have any fun, that they were boring sticks in the mud who crushed her spirit in their fun-free minivan.

Au contraire! It was I (and my brother, but that's another story) who was the wet blanket ready to dampen the mood at any sign of enjoyment...unless of course it had to do with food, because then I was all in. Ah, I can almost see my pouty pre-teen face now.

I was a fun-loving girl and all - not giddy and frivolous, but definitely fun-loving - yet when it came to family affairs it was my subconscious mission to suck the fun out of life like the Grinch stealing Christmas. Unless it was something that I expected to be a good time, I sure as heck wasn't going to let it be. And the criteria for enjoyable events were as follows: Something I found interesting, something I was good at, something that had no chance of making me look foolish, something that was worth my time (according to me of course), something that didn't interfere with anything else I'd rather be doing (which, according to teenage me, would be anything not with my family), something that benefited me in some way (hence the reason eating out was a gimme), and something that didn't involve being seen with my family by my peers.

And God forbid I actually try to enjoy something that didn't fit the impossible criteria! No, no, no, I had to make sure that those things turned out just as miserably as I thought they would. Making the best of things would be like admitting I was wrong and that all my complaining, sighing, pouting, slouching, eyebrow furrowing and arm crossing was in vain. We couldn't have that after I went to all that trouble. Besides, being miserable, if accompanied by being right and proving a point, was more fun than having fun.

So my poor parents were trapped in the No Fun Zone with me for a large part of my life under their roof. (Sorry guys!)

Now I'm the one orchestrating family outings and herding everyone to the car with promises of a good time, and I'll cross my fingers that the energy I'm putting in to foster a healthy relationship with my kids will save me from dark, anti-everything teenage years. For now they're both all smiles and giggles, and Max in particular is impossibly happy even under tough circumstances.

Though I'd love to say I left it behind with my teenage years, it's clear that the killjoy part of me has yet to be purged since I still see it rearing its ugly head when things aren't going according to my master plan. I'm afraid it's going to infect the naturally amiable nature of my kids, or at the very least, continue to suck the fun out of life with my own family.

When I want to take a run to the park but the kids decide to nap on alternating schedules, it's in my nature to feel frustrated and get short with them. Let's call it what it is: adult pouting. I can run an inner monologue that says I never get to do the one thing I love, that everything I do is centered around them and nothing I like to do for myself fits in anymore and that we'll have no fun just sitting around the house OR I can throw my hands up and say "oh well, we'll try again tomorrow" and enjoy the rare solo time with each of them, maybe even have some fun. *taps finger on chin* Hmmmm...now which of those sounds better? (And as a reminder to myself, I am not a prisoner to naps! I can choose to strap them in an go anyway if it's that important to me. Choices, choices, choices! There are no victims in this family.)

Assembling all the pieces of the puzzle, this is what I see:
I have several responsibilities that require me to "get things done" while I'm parenting --> Getting things done while parenting is actually impossible (little known fact, but this is true!) --> This predicament leaves me feeling constantly behind and under pressure --> Feeling under pressure feeds my killjoy side and suffocates my fun-loving side --> Fun asphyxiation is a contagious disease that my children acquire from me - when I have no fun with them, they have no fun with me --> Feeling the tension and the lacking joy I should naturally have in mothering them, they begin to need me more, asking for the love I'm not giving them, and I am even less able to accomplish non-parenting tasks --> Crying, yelling, door slamming, toy throwing, Mommy! Mommy! Mommy! Is it bedtime yet? Who's idea was it to have kids anyway!?

I want to be a fun mom! I can be a fun mom; it's all up to me. My house doesn't have to be the No Fun Zone, it can be the Neighborhood of Jokes and Merriment (I guess our family license plate is not as well-suited for acronyms). So when I start to feel pressure, in addition to addressing the fear that underlies my stress, I'm going to find ways to make us laugh. Because what's the point if we're not having fun?

Day 65: Balancing Act

After a spectacular Holistic Moms Network meeting last night, I'm feeling refreshed and ready to tackle life again. But this time, in a whole new way.

I went into the meeting feeling pulled in too many directions, like there wasn't enough of me to go around and like my life was a balancing act gone wrong. I know this leaves me always-behind, hurried, and generally frantic, an energy I'm subjecting everyone in my life to, especially the kids.

I came out of the meeting with a renewed perspective, feeling capable and centered. The tools she gave us were really helpful, and I'm going to put them to good use to go from scattered to focused and from spread thin to covering my bases. But it was the meditation that pushed me over the frenzied hump.

After only a few brief, kid-interrupted minutes of meditation, I felt less physical tension, less stress, less resistance. I was calm. Not the kind I put on to try to provide a peaceful environment for the kids or to keep my craziness from spreading to other moms I'm with. The real kind. The kind I hadn't felt in a while, because I hadn't stopped moving in a while.

Being forced to just be, to not do, was more powerful than I'd imagined. The to-do list, expectations, responsibilities all slipped away, and they took all my tension with them. And in its place they left gratefulness, love, trust, and acceptance.

I didn't realize how long it had been since I had stopped. Other than vegging out with my husband after the kids are in bed, I literally haven't stopped since Max was born. And as much as I love Parenthood and Dexter, they're not exactly helping me find balance.

I've been approaching my responsibilities the same detrimental, default way I had been approaching internal power struggles. Push through, make it work, sheer force of will will get things done. But checking things off the list this way wasn't bringing any relief, and certainly no peace.

So my new balancing act - the act I am committing to in order to find balance - is to take ten minutes, the first ten minutes, of the boys' afternoon nap to just be.

Today that meant meditating and doing self-reiki along with the Lisa's CD, other days it might mean a ten-minute nap, ten minutes of prayer, or ten minutes of head-clearing silence. Whatever they look like, I'm committing to giving myself those ten minutes every single day so that my cup is full, maybe even over-flowing and able to fill up the people around me.

My hope is that this simple act will help me remain focused, actually make me more efficient, and more importantly bring a sense of peace and trust to my day that I can share with my kids.

So here's me trading stress for trust: I am enough. I am capable. I will accomplish what needs to be done. And I will do it with love and gratitude, because those are the reasons the list exists in the first place.

Day 46: What About Me?

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.

How many times have you heard this: You have to take care of yourself so you can take care of your family.

BAHahahahahaha! It gets me every time. It's no doubt spoken by a woman with a very different idea of mothering than mine or one who isn't a mother at all (also known as a woman who shouldn't even be allowed to have an opinion on mothering, much less voice it...I think I'm feeling a little fiesty today!).

Here's the reality: I can eat, sleep, and poop without assistance. They can't. I get trumped every time.

But my birthday car dance got me to thinking about what it would look like if I could take care of myself. What were the things that once nourished me, and are they the same now that so much of me is different? Here's what I came up with.

Music was my therapy. Whether I was sad, angry, happy, or stressed, music made the bad more bearable and the good better. 

Running, especially in the hot summer sun, was an essential outlet - a way to release aggression, clear my head, and find physical and emotional balance. 

Reading was my way to come down and relax, but also my stimulation, a way to learn and grow. Forward motion is a necessity in my life, and education, especially self-education, is a big part of that. 

Good food and a few drinks defined connection and relationships. Whether it was a friend or a boyfriend, conversation over a bar or restaurant table was where the magic happened. 

And silence, glorious silence, was a must. This was where I connected with myself, kept my finger on the pulse of who I was, what I believed, and what I wanted and needed.

For the most part, these things haven't changed. Sure, the books I'd pick up now if I had time are a little different, but it's still about growth. And the music that would nurture me now if Raffi didn't dominate the CD player is probably a little more tame, but so am I.

If I could take care of myself, these are still the things I would choose. But as I adapt to life as it is, these things have to slowly morph with me. I'm not going to get to spend two hours stretching, running eight miles and taking a long shower like I used to, but that doesn't mean I can't toss the kids in a jogger this summer and run the long way to the park. I can't drown out stress with music so loud it changes my heartbeat, but maybe I can switch out the Mary Poppins soundtrack for a little Jamie Cullum in the car with the kids now and then. And maybe a good bottle of wine and a gourmet meal at home with the kids can still be a way to connect with my husband. And would five minutes of silence and stillness when the kids are napping really mean the difference between getting all my tasks done or not?

Taking care of myself doesn't have to be all or nothing, and it doesn't have to be at their expense. I'm going to work on finding small ways to nurture myself and my family through the day so that I have more to give them.

Day 45: Free to Car Dance...

...and sing like you think no one's listening.

When you're Mom, birthdays aren't quite what they used to be. Babies just don't observe them. So my birthday began like any other day, with me getting out of bed early with Jackson, jumping back and forth between two children nursing, making breakfast, and doing laundry.

Fortunately I'm not a person who has ever really needed a big to-do on my birthday, so this was okay with me. The afternoon continued with helping my husband make forty pounds of mashed potatoes for a V-day event and watching Jackson dump a glass of water on his Dr. Seuss memory game "because the Grinch was thirsty." All in all, I'd call it the usual.

I took it all in stride, looking forward to the evening when Nick and I could get away for a couple hours while my parents watched the kids. I had really wanted to start tackling the freedom concept, so the plan was to take thirty minutes to myself before our date to write a post. Max had other ideas.

He was exhausted, but fighting sleep. Maybe he could feel the impending separation, maybe he picked up on my frustration and desire to get away that was heightening with each minute he didn't fall asleep. I watched as the clock ticked and felt my alone time vanishing before my eyes. This I did not take in stride. In fact, just the opposite. I got pissed.

My parents arrived and as Nick finished his potatoes, I handed off my happy-against-all-odds baby who wouldn't sleep and stormed out of the house to go sit somewhere quiet and write.

As I sped away (which I'm sure was much more dramatic in my head than in reality) I instinctively grabbed for a mixed CD I used to live and breathe by in my college days, but that I hadn't listened to in years. I turned the heat on, rolled the windows down, and cranked the volume until I could feel my eardrums about to burst. I belted out all the angsty tunes that got me through drama and breakups just a few short years ago, and kept on driving right past my destination.

Before I knew it, I was all the way across town and I just kept going. With each song came flashbacks of what seemed like someone else's life. The images bore no resemblance to my now baby-centered, poo-filled, breast-milk-driven existence. By coincidence, I drove past a few of the apartments I had once called home, and memories came flooding back. And with them tears. This was a mid-life crisis more than a walk down memory lane.

But as quickly as it had come on, it was over. As I reminisced about a life that was all about me - what I wanted and what made me feel good - I started to remember the emptiness, the longing for something more. I remembered the lonely nights lying awake, dreaming of having a husband and children to dedicate my life to. These were my deepest desires then, and now my reality. And finally with that realization came the car dancing...and weird looks from other drivers.

Frustration, sadness, and feeling overwhelmed were replaced with joy, freedom and intense gratefulness. The husband I once dreamed of pales in comparison to the husband I have. The children God gave me surpass the ones I imagined in every single way. I am so blessed, and I want to revel in that. I don't want to miss all the things I waited for that are right in front of me, and when I don't choose freedom and joy, that's just what I do.

The day ended with a precious few hours alone with my husband (and a few drinks that didn't hurt), and a pan of homemade brownies. I'd say it was a pretty great birthday, and one that I hope will color the year to come with contentment and most of all freedom.

Day 43: Freedom Conceptualized Part I

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.

This is going to be a thinking-out-loud post that may or may not make a whole lot of sense along the way, but will hopefully come to a thoughtful conclusion at the end of part II. The concept of freedom is one that I'm still working through, so my thoughts aren't fully formed ideas yet. I say this to say: if I ramble, bear with me!

Freedom is the cornerstone of my country, my politics, my faith, my worldview. You would think this would make it accessible to me, but it always seems decidedly out of reach. The obvious conclusion, then, is that I am the only one denying myself freedom. How ridiculous. To be surrounded by freedom, yet choose to live in captivity to anything is simply asinine (I've secretly always wanted to use that term and never found a fitting place for it, but if ever there was a time!). But to everything there is a purpose, so what purpose does rejecting freedom serve in my life?


When it comes down to it, living freely requires accepting responsibility...for everything. If I'm tethered to my defaults, they can take the blame for my failures. If my feelings control me, I can't be held liable for my actions when they take over. If my Italian genes determine my fiery temper, it's not my fault when I fly off the handle. All of this comes in quite handy when I don't want to carry the burden of responsibility that comes along with my choices.

If I'm tied down by my circumstances, I get to complain about never getting time to myself. I can talk about all the sacrifices I make for my husband and my children, and how those things don't allow me to do what I find relaxing or stimulating. I can moan about how stressful my life is and how that makes me less patient, less capable of living outside of default mode. To put it in no uncertain terms, if I'm captive, I can be a martyr.

But when I take a good honest look at my life, and when I remember that at every moment of every day I am free, suddenly things are very different. Suddenly I'm choosing to yell when I'm angry, choosing impatience, choosing not to make time for myself, choosing to let the things that bring me fulfillment (outside of my children of course!) fall by the wayside. Suddenly these things aren't happening to me, they're happening because of me. 

In most of life I have a strong sense of personal responsibility; I can't stand a victim mentality. But in these insidious ways, I've been living as a victim. How ironic that I'm my own perpetrator. I've refused to accept freedom because I don't want the responsibility that comes along with it. I don't want to accept that the reason I don't get time to myself is because I choose to sleep with my baby and refuse to offer him breast milk from a bottle. What fun is it to look honestly at why I feel stressed: I take on too much, I refuse to admit when I can't do something that's asked of me, and I refuse to ask for help. Oh, any my time management skills suck! 

No one forces responsibilities on me, and no one can make me feel guilty for saying no or not getting something done. That's a lot to accept. But whether I accept it or not, it's reality. So why pass on the freedom staring me in the face just so I can hide behind a false sense of "I'm not responsible?"


More on that tomorrow...

Day 42: Freedom Exercised

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.

Well, I had hoped to work on the concept of freedom today, but instead I took advantage of a rare few hours of personal freedom away from my home and children. I spent some time with my husband for my birthday and had a lot of fun while my parents took care of the kids. And when I returned everyone was in one piece, so the day was a success for all of us. I also got 45 minutes of alone time that radically changed my day and my outlook, so I'm excited to revisit that in tomorrow's post as well. I think it ties in beautifully with the concept of living freely.

Day 35: Sad Feelings

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 has spent the past few days going through what I think is an another intense round of detox: Waking up sweating, not wanting to eat, drinking tons of water, asking to nurse a lot, and feeling sad for no apparent reason. Obviously this means my usually independent boy who has been known to entertain himself with empty vinegar and yogurt containers for hours is needing much more of my attention. 

My default reaction is to overlook the big picture and resist this; to expect from him what I know he's capable of on other days. I try setting up activities and moving on to my own things, only to find him at my side moments later needing me. I try putting off the things he says he needs, "We'll do that as soon as I finish this." Finally he realizes that his thick-headed mom isn't getting it, so he gives it to me in simpler terms: "Mommy, I need you to help me with my big feelings. I feel sad and I need affection."

 The bills can wait, the work can wait, the cleaning can wait. My opportunity to be this important to him and to be capable of meeting his needs so simply, with just my presence, is fleeting. Soon, he won't need my help with his big feelings. Not long from now the solution will be much more complicated and I may not be able to make those sad feelings go away at all. Someday he might not even share his big feelings with me; there will be someone else who has taken my place. 

I want to cherish these moments of dependence, not resist them. If I don't, I'll be the one with sad feelings looking back on how I squandered opportunities to love him exactly as he needed to be loved. I'm thankful for his body's incredible ability to self-heal, even if sad feelings are part of the process. I'm thankful that he communicates his feelings so openly and insistently that I don't get to let them go unnoticed. I'm thankful that what he needs more than anything in the world is me, because "me" is the only thing I can really give him. Sad feelings will come and go, but how I respond to them will shape our relationship forever.

Day 33: Snow Day

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

The day was full of successes, struggles and possible topics, but the highlight was playing in the snow. It's been a long and very cold winter. Today was so beautiful we couldn't pass up the opportunity to get out, so I put Max down for a nap and instead of starting lunch like we "should" have, we stuffed ourselves into snow pants and big mittens to explore the winter wonderland.

The first item of business was using Daddy's shovel to scoop the snow. Proportionally this was a challenge, but he stuck with it for quite a while. He loved the idea of helping with Daddy's task, since it's usually Mommy's jobs he gets to do.

Next on the agenda: Snow angels. He plopped himself in without hesitation and started waving his hands in the air. It took a little explanation, but eventually he figured out they needed to be in the snow to make wings.

 Of course all this activity worked up a healthy appetite (or thirst?). And what could be better than a snow sandwich with a side of snow! In fact most of the rest of our time outside was spent looking for pristine snow for eating.

It was so good, in fact, that he couldn't resist the urge to dive face first into the snow bank to fill his mouth. It must taste better when it's not tainted by mitten.

Finally, we had to "slide" down one of the snow banks flanking the sidewalk; although it appeared to be quite similar to the plopping involved in angel-making.

I almost made us miss this opportunity based on nothing but an arbitrary time on the clock that said we should eat lunch and take a nap. We probably would have had a more successful nap if we hadn't taken our snow day; he never did fall asleep. And we're probably going to have a more challenging evening because he's tired. But sometimes the highs are worth the lows, and neutral and easy are boring. Today I'll embrace the lows that might come for the sake of our afternoon high.

Day 32: I'm on to You

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.

Simply put, I've been stooping to manipulation lately. Like anything else, it crept in slowly under the guise of something positive and went unnoticed until finally I reflected on some of our interactions and thought, "Did I just say that? How'd we get here?" 

My goal is always to avoid arbitrary punishment that uses fear and emotional pain to control behavior in favor of allowing natural consequences that teach self-regulation. Following this, most of our discipline-related communication is structured in an "if, then" way: "If you choose to take CDs out of the cases, then I have to put them away to keep them from breaking." Or "If you choose to get up out of your chair at dinner, then you have to sit at the big table instead of your little table to help you keep your body still."

But "if, then" began to morph into manipulation, eventually verging on arbitrary punishment: "If you don't get your jacket on now, we can't bring our library books home." Okay, not so bad. It's kind of true that we might run out of time to check out books, but I was definitely grasping at a way to make him do what I wanted. "If you don't eat your supper, then we'll go straight to bedtime." Yes, it's the next thing in the sequence of our day, but does not spending that time eating mean he forfeits all pre-bed time? After all, he doesn't have to go straight to bed the nights that he finishes his supper early. "If you're too full to eat supper, you're too full to nurse at bedtime." This one pains me. I never wanted to taint our nursing relationship by making it a bargaining chip, but somehow I let it happen. And the fact that I made nursing about the milk, the very least important aspect of it, is very disappointing. Hopefully he won't take that message to heart. "If you rest your body for 10 more minutes, then you can watch Lady and the Tramp when you wake up." Alright, I've outed myself. There's officially no connection between nap and DVD. I was dangling a carrot out in front of the mule with this one to buy myself a few more minutes to get some work done. The best part is that it backfired on me because he chose not to rest his body, which meant no DVD and less time for me to work!

It wasn't long before he caught on to me; partly because he's such a bright kid and partly because the way I was presenting it, especially the resistant energy I was projecting (choose this or else!), gave me away. He called me out by refusing to be manipulated, choosing to forgo the thing he wanted just to make a point.

Making a child into a puppet seems appealing in the short term. Whose life wouldn't be easier with a child that does as told when told. But parents only get to be behind those strings for so long; eventually someone else, someone you don't get to choose, becomes the puppeteer, and the results are almost always disastrous. I love that he has a strong will and resists my attempts at control. This is an important guiding post for me, and it's going to be such a valuable trait in his future, one that I don't want to take away from him to make my life more convenient in the present.

 The amount of time required to parent in a positive way is overwhelming. The energy required to stay present with all  our interactions is exhausting. And gratification is almost always delayed, sometimes for years. This means that losing focus, sidestepping, and even heading off course are going to happen. But the road to a healthy relationship and an emotionally healthy child is always right where I left it. There's always an opportunity to learn from these experiences and get back on course.

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 28: Husband...What Husband?

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 seems to be revisiting the climbing and home exploration stage. He's been traveling the house with his chair as a step stool, getting into anything he can safely assume is off-limits. Last night's project was to retrieve candles - our unity candle and the two taper candles used to light it at our wedding - from the living room shelf. The activity that followed was drenched in symbolism, so much so that all I could do was smile, take a picture, and write about it.

We had a few child-free friends over, and Jackson was enjoying moving into the room to share the pretend coffee he had made, then out when he'd had enough commotion for a little while. During one of his excursions away from the group, he grabbed the candle unnoticed. When he re-entered, candle in hand, he was quite excited about this new treasure he had found. I weighed the joy he was getting out of it, the time it would take to talk through putting it back, and the fact that it was a fifty cent candle from a craft store. I explained that if he bonked it on things it would break, then let him go ahead and play with it. Needless to say, the candle ended up broken in several places.

My husband apparently thought that this was no reason to get rid of the candle, so it made its way back to its holder where I noticed it this morning. Although in his defense I'm sure he was just scared that throwing away something from our wedding would be met with disapproval. 

This picture couldn't be more fitting: The carefree engagement pictures pushed to the side and our broken wedding candle in the background with Jackson front and center. A picture really is worth a thousand words!

I never thought I'd be the mom consumed by her children. I was so madly in love with my husband that there was no way anyone could take his place. Then I actually became a mom. I found out that I was biologically programmed to fall hopelessly in love with this little person who, though a product of our loving marriage, threatened to intrude on it. I found out that this tiny being needed me so intensely, and rewarded me so wonderfully when I responded to those needs that caring for him became my sole focus. I found out it wasn't as simple as I had thought it would be to prioritize my marriage over motherhood.

Two years and another baby later, I'm still madly in love with my husband - and still struggling to put us first. He can feed himself, clothe himself, bathe himself, even go potty on his own. He doesn't need me like they do. But that doesn't mean he doesn't need me.

Ultimately, there's nothing my children need more than to be part of a loving, secure family, and our marriage is what provides them that. By loving my husband, I'm loving my children, and by prioritizing our marriage, I'm meeting their needs and ours. This is hard to remember and even harder to put into practice, especially when I already feel like there's not enough of me to go around for just the two kids! But I know that being connected to my husband energizes me and makes us a better team, so expending energy on him comes back to me (and the whole family) ten-fold in the end.

So I will plan date nights; Max will survive a few hours without me. I will greet him with enthusiasm when he comes home, no matter how long and hard my day has been. And I will stop dominating our conversations with kid-talk so that we can connect on other non-parent levels. He's every woman's dream and for some reason he chose to be with me. The least I can do is love him well in return.

Day 21: Attached or Trapped

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 was away from Max last night for about two hours and he was not all too happy with me when I got back. He wouldn't allow me to be more than two feet from him the rest of the night. He refused to go down by himself, so he had to stay up until I went to bed, and he woke more frequently, even complained a little in the night, which he never does. His world had clearly been shaken by my absence. 

The thought of how seriously he responded to such a minor separation started to become a little overwhelming. My negative side started to feel trapped by this. Will I ever get to go on a date with my husband again? Will I ever meet up with friends without a baby on board? How can I ever leave if I know it upsets him so much?

I was very conscious about creating a secure attachment with Maxwell. He was in my arms almost his entire first three days. In five months, he's never had a bottle, and I don't intend for that to change. Every feeding of his life has been with me. Every nap and every bed time has been with me. As he grows, those things will change, but for now this is the life I've chosen and I wouldn't go back and do it any differently. 

I'm so glad he and I are this in sync. Mothers and babies were designed to be as one until baby grows ready to venture out, and I'm proud of myself for respecting that biologically predetermined need in my children. I know that investing in this attachment now means I'll have a very self-assured and independent boy in the future. And I know that it's temporary. The sacrifices I make to foster this attachment are minuscule in comparison to the joy I get from seeing him health, happy and secure. 

Slowly non-baby outings will increase and he'll have the opportunity to learn that when I go, his needs are still met (albeit in a different way by a different person) and that I always come back. I will work on finding a balance between protecting our attachment and allowing him certain growing experiences, and we will get there. But for the time being, instead of trapped, I choose to feel honored to be loved and needed so intensely.

Day 15: You Can Lead a Baby to a Cozy Bed...

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.
  
...but you definitely can't make him sleep! 

Maxwell's poo strikes again. Usually I can get Max to sleep just before I put Jackson down for his nap. It provides me with 30-90 minutes of uninterrupted time, which, as my fellow stay/work at home moms know, equates to about 6 hours of kid-present time in terms of getting things done. And today the list of "have-to's" is long, so what better day to struggle with naps! 

After a couple potty opportunities, he wouldn't fall asleep while I was reading. He wouldn't fall asleep nursing on the bed. He wouldn't fall asleep with a pacifier. Are we seeing a trend? His eyelids were heavy and he clearly wanted to, but he couldn't fall asleep. It was interrupting my usual one-on-one time with Jackson, stirring up those it-will-be-like-this-forever feelings, and just downright annoying me. I never stopped to think about how frustrating it must be for him.

I finally just let him fuss for a few minutes so I could finish getting Jackson down. (Don't worry, he was just complaining, not crying; it's more like he's reprimanding me than anything - won't that be fun as he gets older!) We tried the potty again to no avail, and we tried to sleep again, also to no avail. The more I tried to make things the way I wanted them to be instead of the way they were, the more frustrated I got. So I quit! 

I let it go and accepted "what is." I got him up and he played on the floor next to me while I worked. I got all sorts of smiles and giggles, and I got to watch him try out all his new spinning, scooting, grabbing, and push-up skills. It actually made my day. And lo and behold, after 40 minutes of playing, he was ready to poo...and sleep! Boy did this all feel better than resistance.

I'd love to say that this is where the story moved on to me getting loads of work done. But, without exaggeration, the moment Max fell asleep, Jackson woke up crying (something I suspect will continue to happen as the candida die-off makes things worse before they get better). I stood and whispered, "No. No. No! This can't be." And I had to take a full minute to get myself to a place where I could walk into his room without resentment - thinking about him and his needs, rather that me and my list. 

I've never before been successful at getting him back down once he's awake, but today we nursed, cuddled and compromised on letting him "rest" with a pillow and blanket on the rocking chair. Over an hour later and he's still asleep!  

I know all of us are exhausted and on-edge from the anti-candida process, and I'm proud of myself and them for finding ways to make it manageable today. I'm looking forward to the near-future when my no longer refluxy, gassy, and fatigued children can sleep the way we all want them to. Law of Attraction, right?

Day 12: PJ Money

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.

PJ Money, while it sounds like a flashy hip hop persona, was really just a reminder to try to see the world as he sees it. I've gotten lots of these recently. I'm learning to ask why he's doing something before making a judgment about whether it should continue or whether I should be bothered by it. Nearly every time he's got an explanation that makes perfect sense, and it usually involves his imagination.

Back to PJ Money. Jackson was up from his nap, Max was still sleeping. When this happens, I find it's best for Jack to be in a non-adjacent space. Not necessarily because the noise will wake Max, but because it keeps me from turning into a crazy person shushing in Jack's face every few seconds (still working on transforming that resistance into acceptance!!). So we go to the basement or upstairs playroom or stay in his bedroom when he wakes up. 

Six books in to the large stack of books he wanted to read, we landed on one with caricatural drawings of wacky pets - an elephant, a giraffe, a huge snake, a coyote. Mr. Coyote became is playmate for the rest of the afternoon. They had deep conversations about life, shared a few laughs, and for some reason Jackson had to pay him money. He revealed at bed time that this friend he was so enthusiastic about was actually scary, so in hindsight maybe it was a bribe to remain uneaten by Mr. Coyote.

Whatever the case, it was very important to pay Mr. Coyote his money. That money just happened to be in the form of pajamas. I don't know about your family, but in our family, Grandmas love to give PJs. There are a lot of PJs. And all of said PJs were methodically ripped, pair by pair, from the neatly folded piles in the dresser. 

I watched in horror. All I could think about was the time it was going to take to re-fold them. By pair three or four, when it became clear that Mr. Coyote was not going to be satisfied until he had Jackson's every last cent, I started to say, "Jackson, I think he has enough money. I don't think we need to take any more pajamas out of the drawer." He gave me a confused look. Mr. Coyote's fee was clearly more than four pair of pajamas. We were at a crossroads, and as always, I was driving the bus. I got to decide how this interaction played out. 

Focusing on my own need for neatly folded PJs and a two year old who never takes or leaves anything out of place (HA!) could end in a cinema-worthy bus explosion, flames shooting out from the windows. Prioritizing his need for freedom to engage in imaginative play would bring us all safely to our destination singing "wheels on the bus" as we went. Hmmmmm...what to do, what to do...

Fortunately I took off the me-shades and put on the we-shades. What was best for all of us was for me to see the world from his eyes for a moment. To cherish the beautiful and sophisticated creative play he was allowing me to witness. The joy on his face when I explained that I had changed my mind, that he could go on paying Mr. Coyote in PJ Money, was all the payoff I needed to make up for 10 minutes of re-folding. 

Soon the drawer was empty, but still Mr. Coyote was not satisfied. So Jackson did the next logical thing. He filled the drawer with books and went on with the transaction, all the while chatting away with his new friend. We were both captivated, he by Mr. Coyote, and me by him.

I could have stolen this experience from both of us, maybe even chipped away at his desire to see these infinite possibilities in the world around him. I may have damaged his spirit by rejecting the way he was expressing himself through play, forcing him into my adult world instead. Sometimes that's necessary, and it is, of course, part of how children eventually learn about the real world, how to fit into and function in it. But so is this type of creative play! The times when I'm able to give him freedom to get fully lost in the wonder of his childhood, I hope I will. The real world will always be there waiting for him; his childhood is going to quickly pass us both by.
 

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.