Hands Full of Rocks

Random Milling

This is the new nickname for our family.

Mr G came up with it last night, as the title of a tv show about us.

I laughed until I almost peed myself. Because he said it, with dry humor, in the midst of:

a) ep coming home late from work because his train was delayed (he had walked in the door, kids flung themselves at his knees for hugs - yeah, he's tall).

b) kids trying to get their ice cream for dessert (since we're all Montessori-at-home-ish, they each got out a utensil, requested the ice-cream bowls that have not yet made it down to their reach range, got out their own ice cream from the freezer, and were setting up step-stools at the counter/stove area for self-serving in tandem - and have I mentioned that we have one of those narrow shotgun kitchens designed by an architect who clearly had never set foot in a kitchen - even after we gutted it and rearranged it as best we could, it still sucks for more than one person at a time, and there were SIX people in there).

c) me trying to clear up dinner.

d) ep also trying to get to his dinner.

Yeah, Random Milling was about right. Plus the noise... wow.

Making it funny was the best possible thing, since I was about to drown under it all. I went and ate my ice cream on the sofa, by myself, though. Phew. Breathing room.

Funny, how the self-knowledge helps. And funny how the lack of it has hindered me. I had figured I was way more introverted than I used to be - actually, for years, ep has been half-apologizing to me for turning me into an introvert - but I hadn't really accepted it. Accepting it has made a series of lightbulbs go off for me.

This is why I hate being a stay-at-home mom. Kids on me nonstop, all day, no peace, and the only way to get them to stop is to go out - er. Whee?

This is why I go nuts when things get noisy.

This is why I am prone to the sudden outbursts of AAARRRGGGHHH! - okay, being a Thinker instead of a Feeler plays into that (my feelings come out of nowhere all extroverty). I also have sudden outbursts of LOOOOOOVVVVVVVE, too - out of nowhere I have to go hug someone. It probably makes no sense to them at all. Funny, one of the things I hear a lot in response to my affection is 'where did that come from?' (wince)

It has been much easier to be more affectionate openly now that I'm paying attention to how I show my affection, too. I just assumed it showed more, and that my mom's comment that I'm the least demonstrative of her kids (affection-wise) was an anomaly to do with our relationship.

Huh. Maybe not.

I know I am better at affection with my kids (and ep), say it more, touch more, etc., because they've taught me that they need that. But it still had hitches, hiccups, and tight spots. It's easier now that I can see with the perspective inward that I'd been missing. And it's nice, too. I can find ways to make it work better for me, and them, too. Effective starts coming in better on this one, now that I have a little insight into my own function.

Anyway, that's us. Random Milling.

Only, please, no reality shows about our life. :shudder: Even if the title is pretty darn hilarious.

Research: Another reason parenting wears us out

I'm going to be following my own extrapolation of the research... but I think it's valid.

Researchers have shown in the past that exerting self-control on ourselves is exhausting (wipe-out number 1 for parents).

Researchers have shown in the past that exerting self-control in one situation makes it harder to hold it together in another situation (even unrelated - hence the difficulty-to-impossibility of holding it together ALL DAY LONG).

Researchers have shown that it's exhausting just picturing ourselves exerting self-control (even trying to gear ourselves up and prep for the next scenario is a wipe-out).

AND, now, researchers have shown that it's just as tiring to picture someone else exerting self-control (cough-child-of-mine-cough).

Interestingly, the loss of self-control was tested against an over-indulgence, and the exhaustion is on memory and skill (like word game challenges). So (by my extrapolation) the more we picture ourselves in our child's shoes, the harder it is to hold a tough disciplinary stance - we just don't have the energy.

Now, the researchers consider this a potentially bad thing. And it definitely does have its risks. However, they also didn't test for whether the loss of self-control is anti-empathetic or empathetic, because their challenge only registered a more-empathetic loss of control (paying more for a car).

Actually, the challenge they presented really was one of close empathy. It was getting into the other person's shoes and experiencing the problem from the other person's side. That engages a different part of the brain than the intellect/word-problem solving side. I wonder if the 'tired brain' thing is more 'working emphasis on the wrong area to handle logic' than 'can't think!' Definitely a bias in the study toward 'exhausted = boundaries change due to empathy/kindness overload'.

Certainly, when I put myself in my child's shoes, I am more likely to give them some slack on various situations that arise later. It feels like I'm doing it because I'm more in tune to what they want, but the research indicates it may be more that I'm less prone to holding a hard line for anyone (myself included) if I've expended energy being empathetic about a self-control situation.

It becomes an interesting question - why did I really blur the boundary of that rule? Did I really let Miss M have more Easter candy because I'd read the article by the dentist saying a single blowout day on candy was less risky for their teeth than a little excess every day for a month? Or did I let her have more because I'd spent the morning dropping myself mentally into her (and Mr B's and Miss R's) shoes as she (they) resisted the forbidden items that other kids present could eat? Was I wiped out on self-control and just had no energy to fight that particular battle anymore? Is this process where the idea of 'picking your battles' comes from?

Certainly I had no heart for the battle, at that point. So maybe the tired-out-by-exerting-and-imagining-self-control played a role, and I just found a reason that seemed valid to excuse the lack of desire to hold that line hard. I know that everyone is prone to that particular process - we are already resisting doing something, but don't know why, and then our mind supplies a reason - but the 'reason' may not have been the cause, just something to hang the resistance on. It is often valid, but it also is often just the most logical excuse, too. There's usually something else down there in the murk that is a deeper reason. On the negative side, it can be simply 'I don't really feel like dealing with this right now.' And there we are, right back at the research again.

Hmm.

Either way, that 'Oh, fine, whatever, I give up' feeling may be partly due to spending a lot of time empathizing - or even just picturing our kids exerting some self-control (hope springs eternal?). Not that I think we should stop doing this - seeing it from their side allows me to figure out different answers (often with the more social/emotional side of my brain, which wasn't tested in this study). But maybe knowing that I may be more prone to putting extra slack in the line after having done so could help me determine more accurately where I really should give some slack, and where I'm just prone to doing it because I can't muster the strength to hold the line any longer.

And this may also explain why the peak-points in the day (morning and evening) are so hard to maintain self-control on. It's a constant cycle of actually maintaining self-control alternating with working the kids through some self-control (with coaching, which means trying to see it from their side). No wonder it's a wipe-out!

Well, that was quick... (sick kids plus bedtime)

Yesterday, we sent Mr B to school thinking he'd had a fructose overload (he'd had more bruising in the last three days, circles under his eyes, and, er, rather loose stools in the morning).

Funny, the symptoms are similar to a stomach bug.

And sometimes that means he does have a stomach bug.

So, he was picked up at noon from school, and later puked on returning from picking up the rest of the kids (fortunately where it was easily cleaned up). Puking is not part of the fructose malabsorption symptom set for him (nausea is for some, but not for him).

Some days a crystal ball would be nice. Granted, he seemed fine in general - no nausea, just a little lower stomach crampy (usual with the fructose overload for people with fructose malabsorption), and really not much of that (he had to think about it before he said that was a symptom). No fever, no nada.

It was a sigh and an, 'oh, well,' mistake for him - error on our part, remedied as quickly as possible. He's cool with it.

However, wince for the kids (and staff) at school who are now proud potential exposees to the bug du jour. Dang. That's not something I like to do. At least it wasn't on purpose, I suppose. Not even out of necessity (say, no sick leave and no backup care available - I know parents who have to send the kids in if they're anything short of dying because they just have no backup option and minimal sick time/paid-time-off). Just misfire on the symptoms because they match the non-sick syndrome symptoms.

Last night was still pretty mellow, all in all - Nobody was in a big eating mood, and even when Miss R finally decided she was hungry, all she ate was a few scrambled eggs. Sick food, anyone? Actual bedtime was still something of an uproar, as everyone maxed out on mellow and shifted over to 'I shall express my affection for my siblings by making them laugh and squeal, and I'll make them laugh by trying to poke them in their privates' (gah!) Miss M ended up in Time Out (she and Miss R both respond reasonably to the Time Out concept, though that means we use it maybe once a month), where she raged and screamed for a bit, then climbed into my lap (I sit near her), where I reflected her need to make her brother laugh, and her distress that making him laugh by trying to poke his butt was inappropriate. It is the biggest laugh, but I did explain that sometimes people laugh because they're uncomfortable with what is going on, not because they're enjoying it. She thinks I'm crazy, but she recognizes that poking privates is not Safe, Respectful, or Kind, and therefore is against the rules.

She needed an uppie hug (for some reason the ultimate in I truly love you and accept you and am open to you as you are is to hug and cuddle them while standing - why this is better than hugging while sitting, or rocking them, or dancing with them, or singing to them, I don't know). And then she was all better, and calm, and ready to get her teeth brushed and get into bed.

Still, behavior is definitely improving with age, and we're still definitely in the lull.

Even in the lull, bedtime is often a challenge, perhaps to do with with the four-kids-two-same-age thing. I suspect it is easier if you have an age split the whole way down. Mr G and Mr B are easy. Okay, mainly easy. They need the same reminders each time. (Mr G, did you brush your teeth? Mr G, please stop wrestling with your brother and actually get in bed. No, don't complain that they started it, if you were in your bed, they wouldn't be starting it - they can't reach that high. Please put the book down and try to go to sleep. I know the rest are still getting ready, but you were tired this morning so you need more sleep, try to get some... which all just means I'm telling too much and not asking enough. Not that he objects to any of this, he is just quite prone to liking to read and liking to play with his siblings. I can't argue with that preference, it's good stuff. Just not Prudent.)

Mr B is mainly just in need of some physical outlet at that hour. If he remembers (which is most of the time, now), he does some yoga on his own before toothbrushing. He's rather proud of the fact that he knows some yoga and the kids at school don't (they used it in preschool as a way to help develop balance, coordination, body awareness, and for calming before naps - he has never forgotten, though he does use his dad's 'yoga cards' as reminders and expansion). Some yoga, and he calms down physically. He really needs the body work to function well. If he was riding daily, he'd probably be fine, too. 'Running' sports (like soccer) help a little, but they don't work enough of the arm and torso. Fencing is good, though. Swimming would be, too. But, for now, it is riding once a week and yoga most days. His new riding instructor took the information from the collagen disorders clinic to heart (that is, he only has two joint systems that are really loose - hip joint and fingertip joint - and those need extra work rather than less work), and has worked him really hard on posting and maintaining grip on the reins. As a result, he's moved in a month from being on-lead (instructor holding the lead line) while he trots and posts to posting and steering on his own the whole lesson. His hip strength has gone way up, and now his posting is quite vertical instead of forward (leaning forward happens when you don't trust your balance or strength at the hip, among other reasons). He looks really good, and he comes out of his lessons sweaty and satisfied instead of just a bit bored. Um, anyway, riding, good.

Bedtime for Miss M and Miss R is still a matter of leaping on each other, giggling, and trying to dodge the concept of toothbrushing. It's coming, though - when we get them to settle a bit, there isn't the fight over toothbrushing there used to be. Miss M's mouth is still sensitive (part of the collagen 'difference'), but she's usually willing to sit still and let us brush her teeth (the dentist wants us helping at least once a day, because kids often won't brush firmly or completely, which is catastrophic for their soft teeth). It used to be five different approaches to get her to open her mouth. (escalating degrees of mandatory-ness, up to the dreaded 'the dentist said' - she doesn't like the dentist, personally, much. Tolerates, but no liking.) Now, much better. But there's still the first-one, then-other problem of the same-age set. I get one to settle a bit and start moving in the right direction, and the other creates a problem that requires my attention, which then allows the first to go haring off in a new direction, and as soon as I get the second lined up straight I have to go catch the first before they get totally out of control, and while I'm doing that the second has taken the chance to go explore something else that caught their eye, so then I'm tuning that back to the intended trajectory for bedtime, meanwhile the other - was that the first or the second? - is off again on something else. Tag team on mommy, though they don't coordinate it, it is just that if you let go of the direction for a 4-year-old, they'll take their own. Fortunately I know it is a matter of being 4, and that the same would be true if my attention was taken by a younger sibling, it just wouldn't be quite so back-and-forth. I also know they'll grow out of it, so while I'm frustrated by it, I am not worried that they'll never learn how to go to bed. I figure eventually I'll be reminding them that sleep involves putting the book down and turning off the lights. Just like Mr G, just like I was as a kid, just like ep was, too.

And eventually we grow up enough to appreciate sleep. By the time they're 40, they'll understand. Meanwhile, we herd the ferrets toward sleep, and they do eventually get there, and there's less grumping all around as they wear down the pathways that lead that direction. It isn't a problem, it just is what it is. Them meeting their loudest needs (movement and interaction) while we try to get them to recognize and manage the quiet needs they don't hear so easily (dental care and sleep).

And maybe tomorrow we'll be back to the lull properly, if nobody else gets sick.

Absurd threats and other ways of bypassing knee-jerk parenting

Threats were a common theme in my childhood. Veiled sometimes, implied lots of times, sometimes quite direct. Threats of consequences were typical, as if threatening a future punishment was effective in the face of current temptation (and normal lack of impulse control in childhood). It didn't really work, yet it's embedded in my psyche.

They fall out of my mouth at times, the auto-pilot threat of dire something or other. If you don't stop banging... um. Wait, there's nowhere to go from there that isn't a threat. Sometimes I can't completely stop the process as it is spilling out of me. I can (and do, often) morph it into a logical consequence type thing - that works, if it is something that is worthy of a consequence at all. But many times it is just something that annoys me, and has no real urgency or need to manage and will go away if I ignore it... but I'm not ignoring it, I'm starting in on the threat, and there I am. Going nowhere fast on that second part of the sentence. It can be hard to totally change the knee-jerk thing, but I have learned that I can usually find a way to convert it, switch the track, do or say something that takes it off-angle from where it was headed.

Kind of an internal People-Do thing.  (Pronounced 'people-dough' - People-Do being like Tai Kwan Do, Kendo, Aikido and many other martial arts... essentially using small actions applied to the right point in the process to redirect the power and energy and direction of a PERSON such that it changes the resulting action/encounter - not physically, but socially, psychologically, interpersonally. It's Effective, Prudent - so far it hasn't had any negatives because it takes on their own direction, and I can also usually make it True - possible for it to not be, but a slightly different pressure can align it with my core values, and I can often align another person more with their own expressed values, too, when they're off-track and reacting instead of responding. Works on me, as well.). 

I've taken to working the threat part of the automatic knee-jerk statement (if I'm already there) to the absurd extreme so it converts my own frustration into something more like funny. I need a bit of a push at times, but the kids are starting to get the game. Luckily. Because I suck at funny.

So, the other night. Mr G is tapping on the (metal) frame of his bunk-bed while we're trying to get everyone to fall asleep.

Me: ARGH! If you don't stop tapping on your bed, I'll... uh, (scramble! help! words still piling up, adjust tweak!) tie your hands together and tape them to the ceiling...

Mr G: (pause, incredulous voice) Was that a threat?

Me: Sorta. It was supposed to be absurd and silly, but I didn't get far enough. Let me try again. I'll, hmm.

Mr G: Here, how about, 'I'll hang you by your thumbs from the middle of the ceiling'?

Me: Not bad. How about this - I'll hang you by your HEELS from the middle of the ceiling.

Mr G: Hey, B, did you hear that one? I think hanging me by my ankles sounds worse. Whaddya think? Heels? or Ankles?

Mr B: Grumble.

Me: Um, oops! Trying to go to sleep! Okay, SHHH everyone, if you don't be quiet so we can fall asleep, I'm going to ... uh, (shit! did it again! Scramble to backup!) BOOGERS! Make everyone eat boogers. (Because the default answer is always 'boogers'. Obviously. Right? That, or butt. That's another strategy, throwing in an unexpected word as an answer. Even if they now expect me to toss 'boogers' out there when I'm stumped, it works.)

Mr G: Eew, MOM!

Mr B: (giggle, snort.)

Miss M: (giggle, giggle, laugh.)

Miss R: (giggle, chortle, giggle.)

Me: (mock dramatic voice) WAIT. NO LAUGHING. It's time for sleep. We do not laugh at bedtime. No giggles! Sleep!(mock drama is another of the self-people-do things. I can say what is coming out, but convert it by changing only the tone of voice. Silly voices work, too.)

All: (More giggles progressing to outright laughing.)

Me: NO. NO sillies. There is to be no silliness in this house! I'm the mom, and I say so! Stop giggling!

All: (more giggles and laughter.)

Me: (deep breath, calming voice) Okay, now, time to be done. Sleeeeep. Time to go to sleep.

Miss R: (more giggles)

Me: (mock sternly) No giggles.

Miss R: (laughs harder)

Me: (quietly and calmly) Shhhh. Really. Shh.

Miss R: (sigh, roll over and pat my arm)

Me: (gently and with affection) Go to sleep everyone.

And hey, they did.

I guess I'm getting a little better at the bedtime stuff. But I'm going to have to be quicker on the elaborate impossible threat thing, if they're going to take the absurd part seriously... er, seriously un-seriously. Unseriously-seriously?

Er.

Boogers? 

Bad Tooth Fairy

Two days in a row, the Tooth Fairy missed our house.

One very sad Mr B.

One angry Mr B.

One note to the Tooth Fairy, indicating the distress over the missed visit. Twice. Because the Tooth Fairy did not show up at our house daily (to hear the tooth report), someone has been missing his tooth money, and the joy that goes with finding it under his pillow.

Everyone in the family was requested to sign the note.

The Tooth Fairy has been put on notice. I think he's on probation (yes, the Tooth Fairy is a he).

Bad, bad Tooth Fairy. Even without a tooth under the pillow*, he's supposed to show.

***

* Said tooth was lost in a flying tackle of big brother G at Baba's house, and so far, nobody has found it.

Bedtime strategies: working on me

As requested, some of the methods I'm trying in order to manage my own reactions (rather than theirs).

1. Have someone else put them to bed. At least now and then, having someone else do it helps break the cycles. Still feels like a cop-out, but it seems to help me pay attention the following day.
   
2. Get a five-minute break to read something inspiring (not parenting-related if possible). I am struggling to figure out what this would be, though. Again, hmm. Spiritual practice work applies, but I'm again resisting it - it should be a perfect time for a moving meditation or one of the many wonderful prayer/readings things I own, but... resist resist. And there's the 'I don't want to be the grownup' popping up. I want to be able to kick my heels and scream and have a tantrum because the world doesn't go the way I like at bedtime. Strangely, I was never resistant to bed (that I recall) as a child - I'd stay up and read sometimes, but going to bed, and going to sleep, not a problem. LOVED dreaming. Was determined to grow up to be the tallest of my siblings, and I knew that we grew faster at night, so I was going to sleep, any time and for as long as I could. (I did end up the tallest of my sisters...) Still don't want to be the grownup, though. I wonder if it would work better if I was a kid, along with them? ... which brings me to:
3. Stop being the grownup. Join the kids in the kid stuff, and tone down the fretful pressure aspect. It might not take less time at first, but at least it will be less resistant. Working on the duration can come later.
4. Do the part of bedtime that I like best first, instead of leaving it as a reward/punish issue that also punishes me. Because I feel worse and worse the more I say 'we're running out of time for stories!' - I like stories. I love reading to them. They like it, too. Nobody enjoys it quite as much if I've put 'must do XYZ' first. I worry that we'll never get to bedtime/lights-out on time if I put stories first, and they must brush teeth because of dental issues, but... when I put stories first, it takes the same amount of time with a lot less unhappiness all around. I suspect that the more I create a time that is low-resistance and pleasant and rewarding, the more it will be... low resistance, pleasant, and rewarding. And it might even take less time, at some point. But it's long and miserable or long and pleasant, and I think I know which I'd prefer. I'd prefer Short. Dang. Wait, pleasant. That one.
5. Practice watching myself, kindly. I work better, keep my focus longer, if I can pretend someone is there watching, either another me, or someone else that I would find supportive. Kind of like a doula - it's easier to keep calm and centered when there's a friendly supportive person being present with you. I would not like it much to have someone there watching me who might judge me, like a grandmother figure or someone too far removed from the daily mangle. But someone who can say, oh, yeah, this part is hard but you're doing great, the struggle is normal, I remember that, let's try this and see if it makes things easier for you, I'll help you set it up... much more resonant. That can be me watching me. I'm still avoiding taping (audio or video) myself, as one book I once read suggested ... I'm too chicken.
   
6. Think out what my biggest triggers are, create some strategies for those. Hard to spot them, they come like lightning and are buried so fast (all the clear and obvious ones have already been handled, dangit!). The main one is usually compliance: do it, do it now, because I said so. Yeah. That one. And extra freak-out when it's related to having fun when they should be working on getting ready for bed. Lessee... how many times did my step-dad come down on us for 'having fun' when we should have been 'working'? And mom, too, really. Loads of shame and guilt stacked up on that one spot. Yeah, we were goofing off, but can't we get any credit for knowing how to have fun? (I suck at having fun, too, so... think there's a big issue there).
7. Stay in the fullness end of the needs, not the emptiness end. That is, stop thinking/saying, "I want you to get ready because I need to get to sleep myself and I'm tired and unhappy and want to crawl into bed and pass out (my need is empty!) so please would you get up and go brush your teeth," (which leaves me grumpier). Instead, saying, "I love having a peaceful evening with you guys. One of my greatest pleasures is to have warm, snuggly, gentle cuddles while the lights go down, and everything feels safe and loving and warm. (pause - fullness of need, feel it full) I'm missing that right now, wanting it, and I know it is because it is so wonderful. (pause to savor again that which I love/enjoy) Now, are you willing to get up and go brush your teeth now so we can settle down again all ready to sleep?" I also find that it's immediately easier to find a way to help them be willing ("I can help, shall we play a game, I'll read to you, let's pick a book, how about...").
8. Start bedtime before I am too tired. Because we all know nobody works well when they're tired, and we get cranky, and ... yeah, Mommy, too. I tend to not notice I'm tired until it's far enough in that I need to get to bed myself. And then I have to help others. I'm already done before I start. D'oh!
9. Stop using time as a slush fund. Okay, so I'm an EXFP (Myers Briggs), so all time is a slush fund until the deadline gets close. I'm trying to insert fun this and connection that and oh let's just watch a little Olympic coverage or please show me that drawing you made or I have to finish up this paperwork for the doctor/school, or... Well, no matter how I feel about it, I can't just insert it in zero minutes, as if the time didn't really matter. I need to find a time/way to do those tasks without it being an automatic push toward the next delimiter, or rather, through the next deadline and out the other side. (This is not yet happening - I just know it needs to happen.) It's not fun, since (for me) time is a flow, man, a river with no beginning and no end... bedtime has a beginning, dangit. There's a deadline! Crud! So those other things have to have beginnings and ends, too. Granted, finding a way to do the 'don't draw down the slush fund' without being equally miserable in a different way will be the trick. No answer for that one. (Credit Po Bronson for the slush fund concept - and while his last entry was Oct 2007, it was about sleep/bedtime.)

Last night, I worked on item number three - I chose to join the kids being a kid, instead of 'having to be the grownup'. We had a totally fun toothbrushing and getting ready for bed time, except right at the very very end (after lights out, when they were still bouncing around). It took just as long as usual, but if I hadn't blown it and started acting like a grownup at the end point (made getting quiet into a game instead of being all bossy and annoyed), it would have been the most pleasant bedtime I could recall in ages and ages. Still, pretty darn close to all fun, no grumpies. That's the whole point behind the book Playful Parenting, too.

So yes, it took as long, but if I practice, it might take less time, and at the very least, we got to bed at the same time as usual, without argument and resistance/avoidance and ordering about and using the Mommy Voice. Much better!

Problem-solving bedtime

Worst time of day for my parenting: bedtime.

Problem? Me. Mainly. Which is funny, because it looks like it is the kids. They're the ones bouncing on the beds, fighting over whose bed is whose, tormenting each other by touching the other person's stuff, groaning and/or running the other way when the toothbrush is mentioned...

Solving me is always more difficult than solving them.

During the school year, it isn't quite as bad - they mutter and grump some, but they know it is school the next day, and prefer to be well-rested. We've allowed the occasional late night, and then allowed them to discover what that means the next day, for them. It's one of the most natural consequences that we've got, and it is an obvious one-to-one thing. Late to bed, sucky getting up.

But in the summer, we have a nanny, and they don't have to get up right away and get dressed and go anywhere at all. So... why go to bed on time?

And going to bed on time is then really about us going to bed on time, not them. If they're asleep, we can go to sleep, too. Or if they're quiet, anyway.

It's taken me the entire summer to figure out that the biggest issue is mine - it's my stubborn streak, my grumpies, and my desire to make them go to sleep (because I am tired) that sets up the conflicts most. Yes, there'd be some resistance regardless, because going to bed is less fun than bouncing around. But not so much.

So, we're working on me. Or I am, anyway. Last night was better, as a result. I didn't keep my cool the entire time, but did decide that it wasn't really useful to insist on doing the settling-down reading and story time after teeth and potty - that was my preference, they didn't have the same idea about order of activities. So we did story/settling first. And they settled. It still took more time than I'd prefer, but they settled, and I didn't have quite the usual fights over the toothbrushing.

One night down, moving in the right direction.

Maybe by the time school starts, I'll have figured me out. I've got a week! Er. Sigh.

Too bad I didn't identify that I was a big chunk of the problem at the beginning of the summer. Ah, well, there's always another chance to try again.

It isn't the cosleeping, it's the philosophy of parenting, silly!

As a compulsive researcher, I've rather a collection of cool and interesting research items. What better place to put them than here?

They'll all be categorized with Research that Rocks. As much as possible, I'll find the full text, or at least an article that discusses the results (rather than just an abstract).

Item for today - longitudinal study of cosleeping - that is, if you follow people from childhood to adulthood, how does having coslept affect them?

General conclusion? It isn't the bedsharing. "It appears that long-term patterns in family life and peer relationships, not particular practices such as early bedsharing, were associated in the FLS sample with important outcomes in adolescence." It is the egalitarian, pro-natural, and humanistic family philosophy produced kids with higher scores in many areas, from adjustment at school to cognitive competence to relationships with adults and peers. There's a tiny bit of downside from this sample, in that open sexuality and different expectations about drug use tended to create kids who had, um, open sexuality and different expectations about drug use. But even with those negatives, the sexuality side also had some positive aspects (not in abusive relationships, even if sexually active as teens). (But keep in mind this is basically California Hippies ... I'm personally not shocked!)

Anyway, once again, a measure that shows that it isn't the specific checklist item that makes the difference, but the underlying philosophy that informs ALL the choices, and it is the way it seeps into the entire process that changes the outcomes. This is why I think it is important to have a framework for one's philosophy of parenthood - doesn't have to match mine, but it helps to know what it is, and to do self-checks against the knee-jerk parenting if you've got knee-jerk parenting reactions.

And say NYAH to the people who said that cosleeping with your child (even older child) would turn them into an ax murderer or deviant or make them too dependent to succeed in school or mess up their relationship with their peers. (Likewise, say NYAH to those who said that NOT cosleeping would do the same thing - it isn't the cosleeping that does it.)

Parenting for tomorrow

So, toddlers and discipline, as requested. Oh, that oh-so-entangled time period, the toddler stage. It's maddening. It's frazzling. It's as frustrating and powerless and desperate and urgent as ... um, a toddler.

I can't say that I'm brilliant at parenting this age. My mom is pretty good with it, overall. She can sit and play endless mind-numbing tea party games in fragments of 14.2 seconds duration. She loves when they say NO, it's so powerful a statement of self!

And, um, I'm not my mom. I love this age, but not for that part of it. I love the adventuresomeness. I love the will, passion, and drive. I love the urgency to discover. I can remember feeling that, the glorious sparke of everything bright, the amazing texture and complex flavor (and temperature) of dust-covered rocks (I was particularly fond of granite river rock from the playground, and yes, I ate three of them. Swallowed. Whole.)... and oh, the depth of soft wonderful of cat fur, the startling glorious crescendo of a cat's voice when it indicated displeasure at me trying to discover the depths of that warmth with my grabby hands. It was all joy. All discovery. All enthusiasm. All open, all welcoming, to all experience. Even pain was an open experience, not damped down or covered over, fully and completely powerful in my body's automatic reaction - the unconscious grabbing of the wounded part was a curiosity to me, observed with astonishment - I didn't even choose to grab my head or my foot or my elbow, I just already had! Wow.

For "No" - I didn't much enjoy saying No, myself, at that age. It was an indication of loss, of displeasure, of discovery denied, of having been asked to leave the NOW of experience and wait, delay, deny the urgency and the need. It wasn't a statement of power or an indication that I knew that I was separate and myself, at least in part. It was grief, mourning, and essential pleasure delayed or denied.

No wonder I raged. No wonder my kids did, too.

So what to do with that, beyond the philosophy? What's the down-in-the-dirt rules? How do I know what to do, when?

Since every child is different, and every parent is different, and therefore every parent-child dyad is unique (not to mention ever-changing), knowing what to do, when, again has some 'filter' issues.

A filter I've discovered over time (with repeated failures to kick me in the right direction), is this: Parent for tomorrow, not today.

That is, you child is a moving target, and they WILL outgrow your methods if you apply your methods strictly to their age. Been there, done that too many times. I find myself yelling a lot all of a sudden, and it's because they outgrew my method. And neglected to tell me. So I just repeated the method that HAD worked. Only to have it not work. So I get frustrated, and like an idiot, try it again, only, um, louder. Or stronger, or more determinedly. Certain that somehow if I just say it loud and slow enough, maybe the person who doesn't speak this language (anymore) will understand. Yeah. Not. Back to the definition of insanity being doing the same thing over and over thinking it will work if I just do it one more time. You know the whole 'you have to say something a million times before it sinks in' concept - wrong. You don't have to say it a million times, unless you're approaching it in a way they can't hear. I'm discovering that yes, I have to say it again for new situations, but it is the first time for the new situation, if I'm doing it right, and it makes a difference within a few minutes, if I'm saying or doing it right. It may not solve the problem instantly, but I can feel the pressure dissipate, I can feel the problem open up, and everyone turns generally in the same direction toward a resolution, almost all the time.

But that's with using methods that will work forever. Using ones that work for toddlers only? preschoolers only? gradeschoolers only? BZZT. They work for a few seconds. And then I have to do them again. Louder, usually.

 

So parent in a way that will apply later. Smacking their hand might work now, but will it work when they're 15? No? Then why get in the habit? Why set myself up to have to learn a new method again in a few months, and then only after this one has failed on me miserably? This doesn't mean taking the car keys, either - that, too, will be outgrown. It means looking at the whole person, finding their needs, finding my needs, figuring out if there's an intersection, and working from there. And accepting that sometimes, there is NOT going to be one. Sometimes, what they need cannot be met, and what I need cannot be met. But not ignoring those points, recognizing and being reconciled with them. Saying, "In this house, we do not, because" or 'Baba's house, Baba's rules" or "I am not willing to do that" or "I'm not comfortable with this" is okay.

I'm finding the Non-violent communication stuff quite useful on this. For toddlers and preschoolers, I think to figure out how to parent any given child, there are some definitely good items to read:

1) Developmental norm information. The closer we are to understanding what they are capable of and what they are not, the better we parent. This has been shown many times in research - if we estimate their ability well, we parent well. If we mistake their ability, we freak out a lot. Expectations violated, frustration through the roof, not good for decision making by anyone, parents included. So, read up- What's Going on in There? : How the Brain and Mind Develop in the First Five Years of Life or Your One-Year-Old: The Fun-Loving, Fussy 12-To 24-Month-Old or the Brazelton books (like Touchpoints), or anything developmental that is aimed at 'what can you reasonably expect as function from this age?'

2) Techniques and methods. Books I like include Positive Discipline for Preschoolers - Raising Children Who Are Responsible, Respectful, and Resourceful (this one worked better for me than the Toddlers one, and had good info on power struggles - but I don't USE it, I just read it), Respectful Parents, Respectful Kids: 7 Keys to Turn Family Conflict into Cooperation (lots of info on toddler/preschooler respectful parenting), Parent Effectiveness Training: The Proven Program for Raising Responsible Children, and Raising Our Children, Raising Ourselves: Transforming Parent-child Relationships from Reaction And Struggle to Freedom, Power And Joy. They each have their issues and angles (as you can probably tell from their titles! HOLY MOLY, the lengthy titles...) - and honestly, I am uncomfortable reading just one book on a subject - I want to have a good three or more perspectives to see what is the central core, and what is excess, pick up the errors they each highlight (which will vary), and then be able to work with that core plus everyone's tips and tricks and secret methods.

This whole approach - parenting for tomorrow, not just today - reflects the fact that I'm more into long-term results than short-term, but I find that when I use methods that show long-term benefits, they usually have short-term benefits, too. Often not the ones I'm thinking they'll have, but they do. And often not exactly when I thought they would. But they do.

Case in point for the day - leaning as hard as I can on the non-violent communication (all the books in the methods above has some flavor of non-violent communication involved, though there's more consequence emphasis in the Positive Discipline series) - and with some serious swinging back and forth in my skills, as I'm learning, meant that I've had two days of mangle at bedtime. Okay, so new room and issues with excitement over new room and annoyance and frustration over new room and assigning ownership and range in new room... but despite all the reasons for the mangle, including mine, I'm trying. And trying again each time I blow it. A lot of effort on my part, and ... and ...

Mr G: (flopped down next to me) I got ready for bed quickly and finished it without complaining - you know why?
Me: (thinking, because we ASKED, and you AGREED TO???? You chose to be compliant? Then swallowing that as it isn't relevant or useful, since he's asking to tell me anyway) No, why?
Mr G: Because I saw you were upset, and I knew it would help if I just did my part.
Me: (um, yeah, actually that's what I'd like for motivation, not just 'check the mental list, am I being compliant?' - empathy, understanding, action! WOO!) Thanks. That does help. I really needed... um, wanted everyone to cooperate tonight, so we could have a peaceful bedtime.
Mr G: (smile, then reach out and rub my arm, then get up and give me a hug)

Yep, there were still some hiccups. Still, the amount of energy expended by me was 1/10th what it usually is. Just by parenting with the assumption that these people are not just kids (not even 'MY kids, fabulous kids'), but people. I get that, but applying it can be a struggle when they're so very much their age on any given day. But while I didn't work the angle well with Miss M, I hit the mark with Miss R - like her brother, she also ran off, got her toothbrush, and went potty without five trips to the bathroom afterwards, without fuss, without her snarky grin while refusing to move, her eyes glinting 'let's see you make me'... Nope, she joyfully chose to make the evening smooth and peaceful. And even the tangle we got in with Mr B wasn't awful, and I realized when I was likely to make it worse so excused myself from it (gave myself a time-in, to focus on something else and get past my frustration with him - ep handled that side, but I think I could have been ready again in another 10 minutes), and while Miss M was leaping and bouncing and gleefully insisting she wasn't tired, she didn't need to sleep, she also asked for what she wanted, expressed her underlying need clearly (as usual, though I have to be in the right place with myself to hear it, dangit), I met that need, and she settled down with a minimum of repeating 'I don't enjoy reading when people are bouncing about - please lie down and I'll keep reading' - and she was out like a light, and stayed out all night. WOO! I parented for tomorrow, and it worked, today.

Every moment of their life is entangled in this moment - past, present, future, all meet here. I am parenting right now who they will be when they grow up, and realigning the parenting they've received in every moment of the past. If I allow myself to accept that philosophical mind-bender, that every moment is this moment, all times are this time, the only now we have is now, and allow the deeper truth of that to expand (that all future nows are contained in this now), then I must parent them not as if what we have today is all we have to work with, but as if all times are this time, and everything we will EVER have is what I am working with, right now in this moment.

And hey, it works. Works today, works into tomorrow's today, carries forward.

Bend my brain all you want, if it works, I'm taking it.

***

(More on the general topic over the next few days - I know this is just one edge of the whole toddler picture...)

Working it, working it

and it continues to work.

Mr G was not perfect by any means (who is?) yesterday. And neither was I (several flops).

But.

Mr G helped clean up the lounge area without complaint or muttering or anything. He's still not certain that if I ask if he's willing, the answer can be no. And I'm not always sure how to allow no without being unhappy at him. It did seem to help when I told him I don't actually like housework (that I do it without groaning and complaining made him think I loved it... sigh. Willing, vs passionate... need to make that clear!)

They were rather entertained when I asked Mr B if he was willing to help, he expressed a need to play, and I got grumpy because he then SAT there, and didn't go play! Go! Shoo! (Working the humor angle, though probably he was also expressing uncertainty that this was okay - he laughed and ran off once I made it clear that I'd be unhappy if he was being so driven by this need and wasn't following it).

But he didn't just play. After I discovered that the choice of timing was important to Mr B, he cleaned up his lego with no further prompting - before he said he would. When I told him I was concerned that his drawers (bureau) had been pulled out and were being played on (they're fabric with a metal frame), he picked them up and put them aside (not back, but aside was what I was most concerned with). No groaning.

After dinner, Mr G reached out and held my hand, and held onto it while we talked. He'll cuddle regularly, but it's more of a demanding cuddle, an asking for contact. This was just contact, integrated, no sense of demand to it, playful and light and easy. Nice. He's still feeling much more clear and light, post flood.

The phrasing is still awkward and annoying at times. I'm still not good at doing my round of self empathy (what I feel, what I need) inside (extrovert, here, I don't know it unless I said it!). Frustrated by that, a bit, but... working it. Integrating the method into our lives - not subsuming our lives, but gaining skill with a power-tool in my toolbox.

And it's getting better.