Those of you who know me or have read my blog in the past, know that I love nap time at my house. I crave that hour of silence and alone time in the middle of the day and I guard it jealously. Of course, sometimes things don't go quite as planned.
A few moments after sitting down today, I heard Tru yelling for me. I went up to check on him and he informed me that he needed to use the bathroom. Fifteen minutes later, I finally had him back in bed. (He insisted that I could go back downstairs and he could take care of everything on his own but I know how that story ends.) Then, just as I was shutting his door, Jem peeks his head out and insists that he, too, needs to use the potty. He actually can be trusted to put himself back to bed, for the most part, so I headed back downstairs to salvage the rest of my time.
Several minutes later, I heard the toilet flush two times in a row and then heard Jem call down to me that he was having trouble plunging the toilet. What!?! Trouble doing what now?! I ran upstairs to find water running across the bathroom floor, deep enough that the cuffs of my jeans got wet. I ripped the top off of the tank and pulled up the plug hoping that would help. It didn't. It just sent more water gushing out of the toilet. So I reached down and turned it off manually and then grabbed towels to try and soak it up. I told Jem to go change his socks and get back in bed and then went downstairs to investigate the curious "rain" sound that I was hearing. That was coming from our downstairs bathroom where water was leaking through the vent all over the floor. As I was sopping that up with towels, our upstairs smoke detector suddenly started going off. I ran back upstairs and started waving a towel at it. Why, you might ask? Um...because that is what we do when it goes off since it is normally caused by smoke from an overcooked meal. So even though I knew that there wasn't any smoke, I still fanned away. I then began yelling at it as two little heads peeked out of doorways to find out what was happening.
I ran back down to the basement to get a step stool only to realize that the alarm was also going off down there. I was able to pull the detector off of the ceiling, intent on taking out the batteries but was dismayed to discover that it only had wires.
This was the point when I called Sam a second time. I had called him once before and realized that there wasn't much for him to do. But seeing those wires and realizing that I couldn't make the horrid shrieking noise stop, I called again. He wasn't able to answer. I left a message that basically said nothing more than, "There aren't any batteries. I can't shut it off! Arghhh!!!!!" He called back a few moments later and said that he was on his way home. I guess telling your boss that your house is flooding with "poop" water and the smoke alarm is blaring and your wife might lose it qualifies you to leave a little early to deal with things.
So on the downside, not only was nap time a complete bust, I spent it cleaning up dirty toilet water and swearing at our smoke detectors. On the upside, my hubby got home 1 1/2 hours earlier than usual and didn't make me feel like a complete dork for letting the afternoon unhinge me.
By the way, the smoke detector was going off because somehow, someway, toilet water ran through it causing it to malfunction.
A week or so ago, I was upstairs and I could hear Truett and Jem yelling at each other downstairs. I found myself cringing at the volume and tone of their voices as they argued over sharing the chair in front of the computer. I decided that it might be a good time to talk to them about how they speak to one another and to let them in on my goal of not yelling anymore.
So we sat down around our dining room table and talked about speaking with kindness. I told them that I was going to try really hard to not yell at them anymore but that there might be times when it still happened. I told them that anytime I started to yell they could say, "red dragon" to me as a reminder. (I took this idea from the orange rhino post I wrote about a few weeks ago.) I also told them that when they started yelling I was going to say, "little dragon" to them as a reminder.
The week went well. There were times when I could feel myself getting amped up but trying to take deep breaths or pausing before responding seemed to help. It was also helpful for me to notice times and events that seemed to bring out the desire to yell. Meal times and any time we are trying to get out the door seem rather stressful. I also don't handle impatience well in my kids. You know, when they ask you for something and you respond with "in a minute" and they continue to ask you every five seconds? Yeah, apparently I'm not a fan.
But it was still a good week. And then Sunday happened. Sunday did not go well so Monday became the new starting point of my 30-day challenge to not yell. Two days down. Twenty eight to go.
picture from:
tvtropes.org
I've said "no" to Caia several times. I had to use that word when she started pushing buttons on the dishwasher and when she started dropping food on the floor. I said it to her today when she let her apple juice dribble out of her mouth and down the front of her shirt. Typically she just smiles at me and finds something else to do.
Last week though, I learned that she reacts a little differently when her Daddy says no to her. Sam and I were sitting on the couch while Caia and Tru played on the floor. We both watched as Caia walked over to Truett and hit him on the back with a toy and we both immediately sat up and said, "No Caia!", in stern voices. And Caia turned and looked at Sam with shock and her lower lip started to quiver. Before I could even blink, she burst into tears, put her head onto the ottoman, and started to wail. I just looked at Sam and started laughing. Apparently, Daddy hasn't said no very often, if ever, and she did not like it. She lifted her head and, still crying, walked over to him and reached for him. She then needed to be comforted for several seconds before she pulled herself together. It was comical.
Who knew that the same word coming from two different people could have such a different impact? It's just another sign of Sam stealing her from me.
Some days, this job of being a parent is impossible to get right. There is no job description and just when I feel like I've got a handle on things, I realize that I am completely neglecting another facet of the job. And there is nothing like a trip to the Dr.'s office to make me feel like I've been sitting around eating bon-bons and watching tv for the last five years while my kids turn into complete disasters because I didn't do something that I was supposed to when I was supposed to.
-You haven't taken your kids to the dentist yet? Oh. You should do that. But they are taking fluoride vitamins right? Oh.
-So she really isn't saying anything at all? Mama? Up? Anything?
-How is she doing with using a spoon and a fork? You don't give those to her because it's messy? You should probably start doing that.
-How is he at spreading things with a knife?
-Can he skip? Can she walk backwards?
So apparently, I'm supposed to let my kid make his own pb&j and I should be taking mental notes every time he skips down the block. And I should also let my 17-month old throw yogurt all over the room because she needs practice with her spoon. Ugh.
I would stop taking my kids in for check-ups to avoid this but then that would have to go on the list of "things I didn't do" and I'm pretty sure I don't want to add more things to that list. As it stands right now, Caia will apparently still be eating with her hands and grunting at me when she is 15, and Jem will be toothless and the other kids will tease him because he can't spread peanut butter with a butter knife.
photo from:
www.parentsavers.com
It seems as though we've regressed over the last week or so. Tru has reverted back to old habits; screaming and threatening and refusing to listen. Jem has been full of excuses for his bad behavior; claiming that he didn't see the book he was kicking around the room or that he didn't know they shouldn't secretly eat half a bag of chocolate chips. And I have resurrected angry Mommy. There has been yelling and exasperated huffing and frustration oozing out of me. And of course, there have also been many apologies and hugs and pardons, both given and received.
I don't like where we are heading. I don't like how easy it is to slip back into old patterns. Here I was, thinking that I've been doing so much better, when really it was just that my kids were behaving. The good behavior stops and I'm no longer calm and controlled. This isn't who I want it to be.
Today I came across a blog site called www.theorangerhino.com. A few friends had liked one of her posts so I decided to check it out. She set a challenge for herself to not yell at her kids (4 boys) for 365 days. She talked about the benefits she has seen from this challenge, besides simply not yelling at her kids, and it was enough for me to want to try it.
I can remember back to the first two or three years of my journey as a Mom. The idea that I would ever need to challenge myself to not yell at my kids would have seemed ridiculous. Yelling? Who does that? And then that day came when my composure snapped and I found myself with my nose inches away from my child's nose, screaming at him. I had yelled before, but never at my child. And then it happened again, and again until it became something that I now want to challenge myself to stop doing. So I am going to start with 30 days. I find I do better with that sort of thing if I set smaller goals for myself and work them into a bigger goal. If I can make it 30 days, then the next time I can make it 60 days. Eventually, it will add up to 365 days. An entire year without yelling. Today I feel like I have a better shot at growing a pair of wings but I'll never know unless I try. And this is something worth trying.
photo by gd427driver
http://www.flickr.com/photos/gd427driver/3156345314/
The other night I was sitting on the couch reading a book with Truett, while Caia stood in front of us peeking over the edge, when Sam walked in from work. He walked over to us and Caia looked up at him and said, "Dada" with a squeal of excitement and toddled around the couch to reach him. And my heart broke in to a million pieces. Oh, the betrayal! How could she do this to me? I was so sure that she loved me the most. But this seemed to be incontrovertible evidence that I might not be first and foremost in her affection.
How did Sam manage to steal her from me? Has he been practicing with her, teaching her to say "Dada" whenever I'm not around? Is he feeding her cookies on the sly? What happened!!! Maybe she is upset with me for piercing her ears or maybe she resents her nap time. At least she still smiles at me and reaches for me. I guess I still have that. But Sam and I will both know that her first word was his name and I fully intend to hold that over both of them until I die. That's how I roll.
So...I've been doing this blog for over a year now. It has definitely been fun and enlightening and challenging. I began with the intention of writing about things that I was experiencing as a mom in an open, honest, straight-forward way and I think I've done a fairly good job at sticking with that. But I have been feeling lately that the strain of trying to blog every weekday has been taking a toll on the quality of my blog. I do not want it to be a place for me to simply tell cute stories about my children, not because I have an issue with that but simply because it isn't the purpose. If the stories help to illuminate my own struggles and joys with parenting, then that is okay.
Basically, what I am saying is that I am going to take a break from blogging every day. At the risk of losing readers, I would rather write stuff that I feel good about, that I feel has quality to it, than to simply write something every day because I have to. My plan is not to drop off completely but to pare it down to a few times a week. So...enjoy the snow! (no idea how to end this one - sorry!)
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