Day 71: Gimme That!

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

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 57: Choosing Trust

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 breakfast, Max went down for his morning nap and I needed to jump in the shower to get to my hair appointment on time (first cut in six months...busy much?). Jackson was enjoying himself in the kitchen with Lucky, our chocolate lab, and had no interest in going potty and reading books in his bedroom like I wanted him to. This is the usual routine when I shower because I know where he is and that he's safe (and that the house is safe from him!), but he decided he wasn't done playing with Lucky.

So I had a choice to make. Was I going to pull rank and simply insist that he do as I said? Or would I motivate him, knowing he was looking forward to going to Cindy's salon? I was present enough to avoid the mistake of imposing my will on him, and I did seriously consider the acceptable second "if, then" option, but for some reason I instead just said, "Okay."

This isn't usually my natural reaction, but today it was. I felt no resistance, no tension, just freedom and acceptance. I could get used to this!

I chose to trust him...with the dog...and his "ladder"...in the kitchen. Whoa. Of course there are any number of things that could go wrong in this scenario, but in that moment I knew that I had given him all the tools he needed to make safe and respectful choices, even without supervision. I knew he was capable. I trusted him. So off I went to shower.

Ten minutes later I was out of the shower and getting ready, listening to what was happening in the kitchen. There was lots of laughter, some squeals of delight (which I assume were accompanied by licks to the face), and long conversations, which, although I couldn't make them out, I can only imagine were quite deep.

When I finally returned after being able to take care of my own needs uninterrupted (wow, really?), I walked in not to a disaster, but to a child and dog happily playing together.

I can't explain why the usual worries weren't there or why I felt such confidence in him today, but I hope it's a sign that this project is allowing me to make changes from the inside out, and that those changes are helping me to naturally choose trust over control rather than forcing myself in that direction.

It was a stress-free morning; something I can rarely say when we have an appointment. Being trusted gave him a boost of confidence in himself, and clearly helped him make safe choices while I was away. How can I argue with myself about that?

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 31: Open Lines

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 was tooling around on his tricycle this morning (Yes, in the house. It's winter. The poor kid needs an outlet!) and cut it a little too close with my foot. I yelped, "Ouch! Jackson that hurt. Please watch where you're going!" He got off, walked up to me with a very thoughtful look and, wrapping his arms around my legs, said, "Mommy, I felt sad when you said that."

So we explored the situation and found out that he was sad about the way I said it because he thought I was angry with him. I was able to explain the difference between "angry loud" and "surprised loud" and give him the big hug he needed. If he hadn't been this open, I'd have never known he was sad. If he hadn't come up to me for a hug, I wouldn't have known he needed one.

These spontaneous pronouncements about his feelings happen throughout the course of each day, and today I was really struck with what a gift it is for our relationship, a skill I hope to help him retain as he matures.

In my experience, open lines of communication are rare, even (or especially?) in family relationships. There's a level of vulnerability that comes along with openness, something most of us avoid. We are a society of people who hate to ask for help, hate to admit even minor shortcomings, and hate to acknowledge hurts because all of these things signify weakness. In avoiding this perceived weakness, we actually miss out on all of the things that could make us stronger, namely living in connection with each other.
 
Children are beautifully immune to this. They haven't yet soaked up the "lone wolf" mentality; they simply communicate openly and seek out what (or who) meets their needs. They aren't afraid to ask for help or show how they feel because they don't know anything other than vulnerability. They live in their bodies and their feelings instead of their heads like we do, and this gives them freedom that we too often sacrifice for the sake of looking strong.

Sometimes I think we don't realize what we're sacrificing. Not only do we miss deep connection with other people, we miss deep connection with ourselves. We lose ourselves behind our own walls, the facade we've constructed to hide all the things that aren't "good enough" or "right," to the point that we don't even know how we feel or what we need anymore. And when we lose touch with ourselves, we lose our ability to be "in touch" with the people we love. When we walk through life with our needs chronically unmet, either because they're unidentified or unspoken, we are that much less able to meet the needs of those around us. And so the solo cycle continues.

So today, I'm taking a lesson from Jackson. I'm going to work toward openly communicating how I feel, unabashedly asking for what I need, and freely admitting when I can't do it all myself. If I want him to hang on to this skill, I better start modeling how to use it in the adult world!

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 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.

Day 10: A New 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.

What a difference a day makes. Helping him get dressed, I noticed Jackson's skin was beautiful, as beautiful as his demeanor. Instead of struggling, we were dancing and laughing. He was back to his old self - cooperative, cheerful, and genuinely wanting to make everyone else as happy as he was. The mind-body connection is so obvious in him because his skin tells all his body's secrets. I wish I could remember that more often and offer him an extra helping of grace on the bad days, knowing that it's not really him.


Instead of moving through the house like a hurricane, leaving a disaster in his wake, he was sweeping, vacuuming (pretending of course), and putting toys away without prompting - providing for himself the kind of peaceful and orderly environment he wanted to be in. It brought me back my childhood when my own mother, met with "But Whyyyyy!" upon asking me to clean my room, explained that a mess on the outside was a sign of a mess on the inside.

I've seen this play out with Jackson so clearly, so many times. When he feels overwhelmed or out of control, he brings that chaos to his world. I rarely make the connection until we're well into the day and I'm already looking back regretfully at my own failure to manage it in a healthy way. I guess that's because the days I do manage it well, I don't look back. But what a gift if I could grab on to that right away, prep myself, and use it as a tool to get through our tough days peacefully.

I see this in myself too. When I feel overwhelmed and default into negativity, I let it color every interaction and experience in my day. It feels impossible change my perspective because the day has already been logged under "bad" and shall stay that way until we reset overnight...because those are the rules.

I'm learning, as my good friend Brooke pointed out in blogging about her own parenting journey, to see each interaction and experience as fresh and new. Choosing not to get caught up in a bad day, expecting positive things, and allowing for a midstream positive change in myself and my kids will save me from ever having to say, "he wore me down." I can choose to let it wear on me, or I can choose to take a fresh look, even pretend that the previous interactions didn't happen in order to give us all the gift of starting over...and over, and over, and over if need be.

This one will not be an easy lesson to put into practice. I tend to dwell and let things build until screaming about dates is really just the culmination of all the frustration I had been trying (poorly) to manage over the course of the day. Starting over was one of the tools I gave Jackson as a way to work through his own big feelings, and now it's time for Mommy to start modeling it. Wish me luck!

The Real About Me

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

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

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

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

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

So here's my real About Me:

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

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

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

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

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

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

Day 2: Am I Really Doing This?

Most days I feel like I'm nose-above-water with an anchor tied to my ankle, so it seems a little crazy to undertake one more thing that requires a daily commitment. But the reason I struggle with positive parenting in the first place is because priorities are all too easily jumbled in the busyness of life. So I guess a daily reminder to keep my children at the top of the list and to stay present with my goals is something worth making time for.

I will choose to find a positive perspective under even the most negative circumstances.
Day 2: Jackson throwing his fork, then broccoli on the floor because he's angry isn't "bad behavior." It's his way of showing me that he's aware of his needs and feelings, that he trusts me enough to let me see them, and that he needs my help managing them. This was his way of expressing that he was angry and sad because Daddy had to leave, and I'm so grateful he didn't just "behave" and sit alone with those feelings.

I believe my child's behavior is always motivated by a deep desire to have his needs met. Those needs are never as simple as 'wanting to make me mad' or 'acting out'. Each behavior that elicits a negative feeling from me is nothing more than an earnest attempt to communicate those needs. I have to work hard (really hard!) to act on this conscious belief rather than the unconscious beliefs I've internalized from others.

My job isn't to correct his behavior, it's to identify the need he's trying to show me through his actions and meet him there without judgment. Each time I do this, I reinforce that our home and our relationship is a safe place for him to feel and to be as he is, that he is loved the same when he's angry as when he's cheerful, and that he is understood and accepted. My job is also to offer him the tools he needs to communicate those needs in healthier, more effective ways. Modeling is the most important way to do this, and also happens to be the most difficult for this big-feelings Mom! Is it any wonder he throws something to communicate that he's angry, when he's watched me do the same?

Each time I ignore the real issue and treat the symptom, I chip away at the relationship I've spent two years building, especially the trust and security he so desperately needs. This happens all too often...hence the blog!

I will choose acceptance over resistance.
Day 2: Max has decided that he would like to wake up in the middle of his afternoon nap, the only quiet time mommy has to accomplish things, to poo. I consistently nurse him well in advance of nap time and offer him the potty multiple times before laying him down, but he has decided that a poo before nap just isn't his thing. I can let it bother me every day and ruin my afternoon, I can fight it by trying even harder to encourage pre-nap poos, OR I can simply accept that for now, this is what works for him. I can anticipate it, work it into my schedule, and release myself from the dread of interruption. Maybe I can even enjoy the quiet opportunity to spend a few minutes with him while Jackson's sleeping...even if it is for poo.


I will choose to focus on the things I value about my children, not the things that drive me nuts.

 Day 2: As I was packing the 6-month-sized clothes away and exchanging them for the next size (already?!), Jackson insisted on rifling through all the neatly folded piles to find things that would fit on or over his head. My first reaction was to get annoyed and make him stop, but when I saw how goofy he looked with a tiny little shirt hanging from his head, I decided to cherish his love of dress-up play instead. In the end this meant that I got intense joy out of watching him play, especially once he donned his first Halloween costume complete with yogurt bucket hat, self-made bead necklace, playdough scissors, and basket of food on his way to "hang out with Cinderella's step-sisters."

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. 
Day 2: Jackson was unruly at bedtime. His eczema was flaring up for the first time in two weeks and the manic behavior usually comes with it. He was climbing the walls, almost literally. Instead of acknowledging that he was feeling out of control and just as overwhelmed as I was, I chose to bark demands at him. "Control your body," knowing full well he couldn't. "Calm yourself down," knowing he wasn't capable, especially not on his own.

I felt overwhelmed by the level of activity, angry that I had completely lost control of the situation, frustrated that after weeks of success on a new plan of action for his eczema we were hitting our first obstacle, guilty because it might have been the pizza I ate the night before that was causing the flare up. And the icing on the cake is that I'm fully aware in the moment of the fact that I'm failing him, and rather than latching on to that as a way to change direction, I feed into the problem by letting it make me feel angry at myself for not being able to remain calm! Let's just say a wave of big feelings was knocking me down, none of which he was responsible for.  But I made him responsible for my feelings when I was impatient and refused to do what was best for him. Instead seeing that he needed help, I saw him as an obstacle that I needed to overcome. I failed him.

Once we both miraculously calmed down, I acknowledged that I had let him down. I asked him if he was feeling overwhelmed and told him that I should have helped him, that it's okay to feel that way and okay to ask for help. I apologized, he forgave me. It's done. I will release myself from the guilt and anger that come along with these disappointments, and I will file it away under "learning experiences" not "failures."

This one is the hardest, and most important for me. Forgiveness and grace don't come naturally. I like order and justice, black and white, and it banishes me to a cycle of negativity all the time. The more I beat myself up for my mistakes, the more I make them because I feel unworthy and incapable of change. I label myself a failure and it remains a self-fulfilling prophesy.

But I refuse to continue modeling this to my children. I refuse to pass this family curse on to them. I WILL forgive and accept my imperfect self because they deserve a mom who walks around with joy and freedom, not with a heavy burden of failure and self-loathing. And because I can't bear the thought of them internalizing the message of imperfection as unworthiness. I am worthy of these things because God says I am, and who am I to argue with that?