Of bullies and prophets

I am classifying Katherine's experience at school today as her first with bullies. A former best friend communicated to my daughter that they are no longer friends (we knew this was coming, I was kind of hoping Katherine would be the one to make it official) and she does not want Katherine to speak to her any longer. Katherine loves this girl, but anyway... The bullying part comes next. Said girl and girl's new gal pal then proceed to run up and touch my daughter. Repeatedly. Against her wishes. Now they are bullying. (I could just %^#* and %*+£ the *+€^%, but anyway.)

Picture bedtime mania in the bathroom when she shares this information. First, just the two of us. Now add a nosey and procrastinating Joel to the mix. Next comes a fiercely defensive daddy and two happily distracted younger sisters and we have a real party going. The concerned parents gather more details. The party moves to the living room. Discussion ensues. Practical tactics, not being a victim, loving yourself, why bullies bully, and so on. This was some really good stuff! I was rapidly checking off items from my "things-to-teach-your-kids-at-some-point" list. I felt proud of us as parents with our cute little family and then we paused again to check in with the kids. 

Katherine (8 yrs old) got it. She reflected back what we said in her own words. (Don't know that she's ready to implement anything yet, but we're getting there!) and then Aaron addressed Joel (5yrs old). Joel. Joel Joel Joel. He busted out with something like, "If the bad guys come I will just punch dem in the face..." Oh Joel. Forever living for the next battle. The kind-hearted warrior I felt he would be. The spacey, absent-minded child I did not know he would be. I rolled my eyes and shook my head. But oddly enough I then thought of Enos.

The Mormons have a book of scripture they (we, I) believe tells portions of the history from the Americas from about 600BC to about 400AD. One prophet in there is Enos (the son of another prophet). His contribution isn't long but his story goes something like this: one day he is hunting in the forest when "...the words which I had often heard my father speak concerning eternal life, and the joy of the saints, sunk deep into my heart.[The Book of Mormon, Enos 1:3]. Enos then spends the rest of the day and into the night in prayer. He hears the voice of The Lord and converses with Him. 

I'll bet Enos was like Joel and Joel could be like Enos. I think that maybe Enos was a typical boy who grew up running around and being loud. He probably beat up a lot of imaginary bad guys too. Sure he heard the teaching of his prophet-dad but he never really gave them much thought. He grew up into a young man just sort of swaying through life until he was out hunting one day and it hit him like a ton of bricks. He walked out of those woods a changed man. But "changed" is inadequate. Maybe...he came out of the woods an enhanced, stronger, deeper, man. He was still a fighter, possessing a wild heart, but he had an eternal purpose woven into his soul now to direct that fight. He understood love for others. He felt love for others. He knew love for others. He couldn't just sway through life anymore. He had to do something and be something. He has to spread God's love.

Well, of course it is all speculation. But it makes me smile.

check mate

Isn't there something about making things a reality by writing them down?

I recently shared with my sister-in-law that I have a list of things I like to accomplish daily. But even as I said that I knew I didn't do all of them daily, it was more of an ideal that occasionally broke through that silver cloud into reality. But that led to and idea. What if I wrote them down and kept track? Kind of like a chore chart for mommy. Only, we can't call it a "chore chart", I mean, who ever heard of knocking down Legos, saying "Peek-A-Boo!!!" and my-pony-is-hurt-in-the-woods-and-you-are-the-grandma-and-when-I-make-this-noise-lalalalala-you-come-to-rescue-us-because-fire-hurt-my-legs-and-I-can't-walk-either with your kids a chore??

And was born my Daily Goal chart:

Said piece of paper was made in a fit of "I must do it now or I'll never get it done" on what was beautiful writing paper until it became plastered to the side of my fridge...next to the dirty dishes.

Now, don't go laughing over "do dishes". If you've EVER lived with me for ANY amount of time, you KNOW what a chore that has been in my life. I used to loath it, then I hated it, last week I just accepted it and as of this chart I see it has a challenge to be overcome if nothing else gets checked off that day. Sadly, it is easier to do that play with my own kids on some days.

Most of my cleaning occurs when the mess has reached my threshold of tolerance, which is higher than most of my peers but low enough that if Social Services ever visited my house, the mess would probably not make it into the notes. There were days this week I thought sweeping was dumb because there was hardly anything on the floor! But I'm the classic good-student who strive for the A just to see the A, and wanting to see another check mark when I knew I might not get around to reading to Clare was enough motivation for me. On all but one of those occasions, I found more dirt than I thought I would and wa-la! My floors are lookin' good!

Months ago I set the goal to sweep and wash dishes daily but it didn't happen daily. I wonder if it happened as much as my mind thinks it happened. It is easy to get off track when there is nothing but what you seem to remember doing, keep you on track. That is why I added "work" to the list. I do mystery shopping and review paperwork for a mental health company. I realized, that if I don't make a point to do it, I wont. Instead I will THINK I "just barely" did some!... 4 days ago.

And "throw something away"? Yeah, both my husband and I have hording tendencies that we are aware of but still trying to balance. So, every day I have to throw something (not just paper or trash, but someTHING) away. Still working on that one, but it feels good when I do it. I recently felt the need to "get my house in order" by cleansing and living in a more pleasant, organized environment. I'm working toward that and I expect that in a year, we will see some big improvements!

Now if only I can work on my priorities. :-) The day will come with Reading gets more check marks than dishes. I will find a balance. I'm far from beating myself up over missing days here and there (well, except for maybe on one or two rows) because the fact is, if I read with Joel 5/7 days of the week, I'm pretty sure he'll still have fond memories of his mommy reading time. If I do the dishes 5/7 days of the week, we won't have any extra bugs or smells.

Plus, keeping myself accountable has helped this week! Knowing that I'd have to face IN INK if I skipped out on one of these goals added to my motivation to accomplish them. And I feel good about it! I feel like a better mom, a better house-keeper person, a better employee, a better me, all that jazz. Because these are MY goals and I'm watching myself work toward them. 

Plus, I'm flexible. Some days are crazy, some are laid back. Some days I'm motivated, some days I just can't seem to find the will to rescue the orphan with burned legs and her hurt pony. Hey, mommies have limits too.

Speaking of limits, Aaron says he should have a line under "Cuddle with" too.  :-) My goals are a work in progress...

more than words

Anyone more familiar with the current research is welcomed to correct me but from what I recall it is by age 6 that most of us have our schemas in place. What is a schema you ask? I look at a schema as the rosie or any other colored glasses through which we view the world. I think of schemas as filters through which we sift all information and experiences that come without out sphere of experience. It is how we see the world and ourselves in it. If these are set by the age of 6, take a guess as to who has the most influence over what schemas a child develops.

I believe that one of our human needs is to be loved. Wouldn't it be wonderful if parents could create an inner sense of being loved within their child? I think that would make it easier for said child to experience the world as loving and generate love for others. Feeling a sense of love makes it easier to take risks and do scary things aince there is a sense of security. And love heals.

This post is about words. Yes, actions speak louder than words, as the saying goes, but words do speak. I also think they set the tone in a household and create a foundation on which actions may be interpreted. Well, for me anyway, but I am wordy. :)

So for the past few days I have brainstormed on things I say to my children that create (I hope) a sense and knowledge that they are loved. These are little golden nuggets, short and sweet, easily dropped from my lips as a child runs by, as I pause for a hug, as I bid them good night for the second time, etc. I'd like to know what you golden nuggets of love look like. I am interested in expansion. :)

Here goes:
You are my favorite big girl.
You are my favorite baby.
You are my favorite boy.
Mommy loves you.
I'm glad you came to our family.
I'm glad you're my girl.
Turkey butt.
Of all the Katherines in the world, you are my most favorite.
You are so pretty.
You are so handsome.
Who loves you?
I love you THIS big!
I love you.

gratitude tree

"The more we expressed gratitude, the more there was to be grateful for." quoted by Bonnie D. Parkin

Last year I got an idea in my head and it turned into a tree-shaped paper on our wall with leaves taped to it. On each leaf was something someone in the family was grateful for. Katherine really jumped into the project and we kept a small basket with pre-cut leaves and a marker out so that throughout the weeks she and I would think of new things to add to our grateful tree.

This year the tree was shaped a tad different, the leaves look less like leaves than they did last year and Joel, who is now verbal, was able to express his gratitude for: Jesus, houses, kittens. It looked a little different but the kids were enthusiastic!

Throughout life there are trials, bumps, difficulties, heart-ache, pain, anguish, misfortune and abyssal moments. Holding onto gratitude can be like the lifeline to a ship if you've fallen overboard. I content that there is always something to be grateful for and learning to look for those things, learning to carry a sense of gratitude with you on a regular basis, can guard you against depression and negativity. It keeps you humble and generous. I helps keep perspective. "...for one cannot feel pride and gratitude at the same time." [S. Michael Wilcox] So I want my kids to see this, to learn this and to practice it. I want them to be protected in this world where men's hearts fail them. I will not be there in person as they walk their college campuses and converse with their high school friends. They will need to have an inner spring from which to take from. They will already need to be practiced at feeling grateful. So, we're starting early.

some people are just mean

Daddy getting ready to nudge an unsuspecting Katie into the water. July 2011

Over the past few days Katie’s (now 5) asked a couple times some variation of, “Why is everyone being mean to me?!”

Yesterday, my initial attempt to address that question was to wade into the idea that her perspective influences how she feels about situations. Well, actually, this is hardly the first time we’ve headed down the perspective alley, but normally the issue is having a difference of opinion, not how she feels. I kind of fumbled over my words and missed the touch down. After she went to bed I realized my play was all wrong.

You see, people have been mean to her over the past few days! Well, at least, my perception of reality matches hers on this point. When your little brother tears your drawing just because you specifically told him not to, well, that’s mean! This wasn’t about changing her perception; it was about choosing how to react. Mommy missed the boat on that one.

I brought it up today but she was soooo not interested (she’s gonna be a fun teenager, let me tell you). I don’t doubt life will provide further opportunities to teach her. Problem is, example/modeling is the best teacher, right? Want to know how I handle it when someone is purposely mean to me? I usually do one of 3 things, 1) smile and reply with a snarky and cutting comment, 2) wonder what is wrong with me (as if I’m the reason every person has a bad day) and want to cry, or 3) fight back… sometimes pretty dirty. I’ll admit, I’ve toned it down in my old age, but I really need to get on the ball. After all, I’ll have a tween in 6 years and a teenager in 8. Guess who will be wearing the largest target for my daughter’s the-world-hates-me drama at that point? ME!!!!!!! Oh, and I guess I could teach her how to live her life so that another person's bad day doesn't ruin her own.

take care of yourself

I spent a few years as a therapist after graduation, and more time in the profession while a student. As I worked, I noticed that I had to detox after I got home. Aaron was often gone since he stayed on base days and days at a time but if he was home, my detox time could cause a problem until it was defined and respected. See, taking care of people and being "on" for 10 hours a day sucks a lot of life force from a person. I think it is especially difficult for introverts like myself. It is just so draining. (So try a minimum of 13 hours plus a few late-night/early-morning calls.) Way back then my husband and I discussed this need of mine and figured out ways to make it work. Fast forward half a decade and a person is bound to forget things!

It took me a while tonight to figure out why (and it's true as horrible as it sounds) I just didn't care anymore. I was maxed out. You have a problem? Sorry. I just don't care. I can't do any more caring. It is Tuesday and since Saturday I have been going, going, going with a party (a huge energy sucker for me right there), sick kids, 4 trips to the doctor in 4 days (2 of those after-hours), a panic moment this morning when my son couldn't breath right, feeling sick myself and just so many other little things that seem so much larger in real life.

I think what sucked up my last few drops of compassion was Joel whining for hours this afternoon for me to pick him up. It was just sucky all around because Clare is also not feeling well and she's only 6 months so she also wants to be held. Today happened to be the day that the applesauce needed to be made. Who knew my crazy monster of a son would be just the right amount of sick to want his mommy. So I just wanted to cuddle with him but could only steal moments. And the whining, oh the whining (have you had enough of mine yet?). I think I have a moderate to high tolerance of whining, but it does get to me and after a whole afternoon of it, I was on edge.

You know, we nearly got a puppy twice before having babies but both times I dragged my feet. Why? Because I didn't want to have to take care of something! I know, I know! Why in the world was a drawn to the counseling field? And why did I have children? Good questions, but much to complex to address in this post. Oh, as it relates to not wanting to take care of others? See, I think part of the appeal of therapy is to not care for others week after week, but watch and assist as they learn to care for themselves! And children? I hope they don't look back and seem this mother bird pushing them out of the nest before their wings were even dry, but I want them to be independent! Only part of me sees something wrong when a 4-year-old will get up and get herself breakfast on the odd day that I'm still in bed. Yay that she knows how to do it! So long as she feel nurtured in other ways, I think it's great!

So to summarize, the past few days have taken their toll on this mother. I can not and will not be of much value to myself or anyone else if I don't take care of me. My mental state tonight has clued me in that I need to do just that. So I'm getting off now, taking a HOT shower and climbing into bed. And who knows, if the shower rejuvenates, I may even read something fun before I drift off to sleep.

speading the horror feels good

Last year a friend of ours was in a nursing home/rehab place. One one of our visits there we dropped off a hand-drawn leaf colored in with glued pieces of Fall leaves. Then we noticed her neighbor and I got to thinking. So we dropped one off for her as well. She oohhed and awwwed over it, speaking with a thick German accent that was lovely to listen to. On one of our next visits I peeked into the neighbor's room. She was asleep, but that leaf was hanging on her bulletin board.

This week at Clare's Primary Children's Hospital visit I noticed a little craft set out for kids to do in the waiting room (I HEART Primary Children's for this, and the man who was sanitizing everything in said waiting room). It looked simple and fun enough that I thought we might give it a try here. And I think we might just make a few extra to distribute at the rehab place - when my children aren't walking petri dishes.

supplies

Supplies consist of paper plates with the middles cut out so they look kind of like wreaths (because that's the idea). Paper to cut shapes out of and glue.

VOILA! 

(Aaron helped me with the bats.)

And I know some of you more particular people can make it look 10 times better. Spread some Halloween Horror! Serving is fun!

first impressions

If you're going to manipulate me, it won't be with tantrums. 

My sweet 26-month-old boy is not one for tantrums. But he is 2. Katherine, Clare, Joel and myself went for a walk this afternoon to distribute Katherine's birthday party invitations. It's not a far walk and I brought snacks and water since it was close to lunch and everyone knows what kind of atomic meltdown can happen when kids get hungry. But I guess Joel had enough. That boy yelled and cried more than 50% of the way because I would not pick him up.

I've pushed a stroller and held a toddler at the same time before but it's not easy. And I knew he could make it. Yes, he's been up later than normal the past two nights so he was tired, but we'd only been out 15 minutes max! So I refused. Oh, I second-guessed myself many times, believe me, but I decided to stick to my guns and the more I think about it, the more I'm glad I did.

Sure, I was embarrassed dragging a 32-pound child by one arm down the sidewalk. Sure, I hated grabbing him by the ear to offer some encouragement to cooperate. Sure, I nearly lost it at at least one point. But I stuck to it. When we got home he went right to time out (as promised) and afterward we cuddled on the couch.

I think this was Joel's first major tantrum of this nature and I felt like what I did would set an important precedent as to what he could expect in the future. I remember a turning point in tantrums with Katherine. She was in the toy room and for whatever reason wanted me to open the door for her to get out. I believe I was busy and instructed her to open it for herself. What ensued was a 30-minute (I timed it) yelling, screaming, tantrum throwing, kicking fit. Sure, I second-guessed myself many times. But I made an educated, calculated decision and stuck to my guns. After about 32 minutes she stopped, opened the door herself, and came out talking to me as if nothing had occurred. I don't even think I addressed it with her to any extent because I knew she knew. She tried it again a few weeks later. That one lasted 3 minutes and it's never happened again.

It was hard to accomplish this today. I mean, Joel is still my baby is so many ways. But I did it. And I feel good about it.

your choice, but you live with the consequences

My 4, nearly 5-year-old, is selling homemade bread to raise money to purchase a bike (anyone want some?). After we (I) made 8 loaves (2 of which I couldn't bring myself to ask people to buy) of cinnamon roll bread the entourage headed out to solicit. To offer context, 48 hours ago it was sunny. Today it snowed. So it was cold and wet and overcast as we strolled about a beautiful neighborhood with homes larger than I ever want to clean. Half way through Katie (the bike wisher) starts to throw a fit because she wants to sit on the stroller our friend let us use for the BABY. Finally I just had to lay down the law. "Do you want to sell bread?" "Yes." "Then you need to stop this. If you don't, we will go home and you will not sell bread." We would have gone home, but she stopped, kind individuals are enjoying yummy bread and Katie is that much closer to owning a big-girl bike.

It's situations like these that make me feel good. Not because my child was throwing a royal fit but because I must have followed through enough times in the past for her to know I was serious.