Yet Another Mom Post
Today has been a tantrum day. A day for flailing and kicking and shrill screams. A day for mascara under the eyes, and sliding down the hallway wall Anna-style, in frustration and prayer.
A few weeks ago in Sunday school Asher learned about the Garden of Eden and Adam and Eve, and he cut out and colored a little snake, and he has been asking everyone if they would obey God or obey the snake. He asked me again today. "Mom, would you obey God or the snake?" "I would obey God. Who would you obey?" He says, "I'd obey God too. Zimrie, who would you obey?" "SNAAAAKE!!!" Zimrie says, excitedly. :) Asher asks me, "Why did that snake not want to obey God?" I tell him, "Because that snake thought that he knew best. He didn't trust God. He just wanted to do what he wanted to do." "But why, Mom?" "Well, everyone feels like that sometimes. But the good thing is that you can trust God because he loves you and knows what's best for you."
An internet salesman arrived just after lunch, and talked to me about prices and routers and monthly fees. And the boys ran outside. It was almost nap time, but I had promised one episode of Jake and the Neverland Pirates. I told them twice to come inside, but they ran, said no, and planted themselves firmly on the porch. I picked them up and hauled them in, one by one. And I told them no Pirates before naps.
Zimrie didn't miss a beat and went right on playing with his bowl of hickory nuts and stickers. Asher screamed and screamed and screamed.
I don't know if other kids are like this. I never really see my friends' kids lose it. And for that matter, I don't see my friends lose it with their kids. I'm sure it happens. There's always the frazzled stranger at Wal-Mart with the screaming child in the checkout line. I'll be honest, sometimes I only feel sorry for the kid. I should feel sorry for the mom, too. That's me, right there.
I put Asher in his bed, screaming. Shut his curtains, turned on his sound machine. He sounds like he's hyperventilating. "NO! I WILL WATCH JAKE AND THE NEVERLAND PIRATES! NOW! I WILL WATCH IT! I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED! I WANT TO WATCH A SHOW!" On and on for quite some time. I hold him down. He's hitting and kicking and screaming. At one point I laughed. It was either that or start crying. He bangs his head against his stuffed animals. He lunges out of my arm, runs for the door. Falls on the floor. Goes limp when I pick him up. Meanwhile, Zimrie's meandering around the hallway, still playing peacefully. I tell Ash that it's okay to be mad. I say that he can be sad and angry and upset, but that he has to stay in his room and he'll get a spanking if he comes out.
I've been trying to spank less because it doesn't seem to be that effective. It seems to manage symptoms a lot of times instead of the problems. And because, honestly, I can't always do it without anger.
I put Zimrie in the pack and play. Ash is remarkably staying in his room. Here is where the tears start and I slide down the wall and sit on the floor outside his door. I pray for patience and humility and strength. I repeat the fruits of the Spirit over and over, as if reciting them will make them take root. I take deep breaths. I just don't know what to do.
Should I go in and talk to him? Should I have just spanked him the first time he didn't come inside? Should I have talked with him before putting him in his bed? Was I too harsh? Too lenient? I ask that God would guide me. I stand up and open his door.
He's been up, because his light is on, but he's lying in bed. He sits up immediately, "I'm ready to talk about it now, Mom." "Good. I want to talk about it, too. Where would you like to begin?" I ask, drawing from my counseling sessions. "I would like to begin at the beginning when you told me I couldn't watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates." He is crying and trying not to cry. I tell him gently, "That wasn't the beginning, the beginning was when you disobeyed...." And we go on. He gets a little upset, but it's manageable this time. I feel like I'm being gentle, but firm. I tell him it's okay to be mad at me, but he's not going to change my mind, that he loses his privileges if he disobeys. I tell him that he can watch an episode when he wakes up. I tell him that he can be like the snake and try to do what he wants, or he can obey God who says to obey your parents. He starts to beg again and ask lots of questions. I feel like he's trying to manipulate, starting to try to find a loophole, so I tell him to lay down and I leave.
But it doesn't feel resolved. Things like this don't. He's still upset. I still don't know if it's the right thing. I text Seth lots of emotional things and he calls me and repeats, "He's three." At first I was annoyed, I felt like he wasn't really listening to the problem, but then it became comforting. He told me, "It's not like you're going to explain things to him and he will say, "You know what, Mom? I'm going to obey God. Thanks for teaching me a lesson." I know that. I know that. So why do I still seek some kind of affirmation at the end?
Asher has been in pull-ups at night and at nap time for about 9 months now. And I'm tired of it. He invariably poops in them every morning and every nap and I am so tired of spending $40 a month on pull-ups. So two days ago, I let him take a nap in his underwear and he woke up dry. So I tell him, "YAY! You are so big! No more pull-ups for naps! You can wear underwear!" (I use the term "naps" very loosely here. He takes quiet time in his room. He might sleep once a week, if that.)
So yesterday, I leave him in his underwear and he plays in his room quietly and when I go get him I see that he has a pull-up on. He has taken off his underwear, put on a pull-up, and pooped in it. I was, a little impressed at his initiative. But, seriously!? Having to use the bathroom is an excuse to come out of his room! Something he's always looking for. Why not take it?
So now, I take all his pull-ups with me when I leave him in his room. And today, he came out and pooped in the toilet! Hooray!
But yesterday, I was cursing pull-ups. And loopholes. And his ingenuity. Because, it is always a challenge. And there are always new things to consider.
His teacher sent home a newsletter today that said that he should practice writing his name several times a week. I read this with foreboding. Not because that's unreasonable. It's not! But my child is. Seriously. Me, trying to get Asher to sit down at the table, hold the pencil correctly, write his name. It's laughable. I know, I know... I should have more control over my own kid. I think that, too. But it's such a struggle.
He lays down on the bench. He holds the pencil like it's a flashlight. He scribbles all over the paper. I try to be serious: "No snack until you write an "A." I try to be casual: "Look at this tall mountain I drew! I'm going to put a line through it! Can you do that?" I try to be patient. I threaten. I listen.
And by this point, the dog is barking to go outside. While putting him out, I notice that the laundry is done washing, so I go to get it out of the washer to hang up on the drying racks, but the laundry basket is missing. Oh yeah, it's inside, holding my fabric for that unfinished project. Go in to get it, but Zimrie has pooped and needs a new diaper. Asher has ceased trying, and is just erasing everything on the page. Oh well. At least he's sitting at the table. Change Zimrie, get laundry basket, hang up wet laundry which takes forever. In the middle of it, referee a fight, put a kid in time-out, let the dog back inside, answer two texts, kiss an owie, try to ignore that the boys are taking off all of their clothes. Go start second load of laundry, I've misplaced my cell phone. Spend forever looking for it. Find a website that calls it for you, it's in the couch, and then I'm back at the table.
I think I'm way more proud of Asher's finished homework pages than he ever is. But it's not as if after one time of working with me he will be able to write his name. It helps to have his page done, or to see his practice, but this issue isn't resolved, either. I always tell other people that everything worthwhile takes time and hard work. And I believe that. But I'm realizing just how hard that is for me--to not have my efforts recognized immediately. To allow fruits of the Spirit to be cultivated instead of the fruit of my labors. To be focused on the journey, not the results. It's really, really, really hard. So maybe it's worthwhile.
A few weeks ago in Sunday school Asher learned about the Garden of Eden and Adam and Eve, and he cut out and colored a little snake, and he has been asking everyone if they would obey God or obey the snake. He asked me again today. "Mom, would you obey God or the snake?" "I would obey God. Who would you obey?" He says, "I'd obey God too. Zimrie, who would you obey?" "SNAAAAKE!!!" Zimrie says, excitedly. :) Asher asks me, "Why did that snake not want to obey God?" I tell him, "Because that snake thought that he knew best. He didn't trust God. He just wanted to do what he wanted to do." "But why, Mom?" "Well, everyone feels like that sometimes. But the good thing is that you can trust God because he loves you and knows what's best for you."
An internet salesman arrived just after lunch, and talked to me about prices and routers and monthly fees. And the boys ran outside. It was almost nap time, but I had promised one episode of Jake and the Neverland Pirates. I told them twice to come inside, but they ran, said no, and planted themselves firmly on the porch. I picked them up and hauled them in, one by one. And I told them no Pirates before naps.
Zimrie didn't miss a beat and went right on playing with his bowl of hickory nuts and stickers. Asher screamed and screamed and screamed.
I don't know if other kids are like this. I never really see my friends' kids lose it. And for that matter, I don't see my friends lose it with their kids. I'm sure it happens. There's always the frazzled stranger at Wal-Mart with the screaming child in the checkout line. I'll be honest, sometimes I only feel sorry for the kid. I should feel sorry for the mom, too. That's me, right there.
I put Asher in his bed, screaming. Shut his curtains, turned on his sound machine. He sounds like he's hyperventilating. "NO! I WILL WATCH JAKE AND THE NEVERLAND PIRATES! NOW! I WILL WATCH IT! I DON'T WANT TO GO TO BED! I WANT TO WATCH A SHOW!" On and on for quite some time. I hold him down. He's hitting and kicking and screaming. At one point I laughed. It was either that or start crying. He bangs his head against his stuffed animals. He lunges out of my arm, runs for the door. Falls on the floor. Goes limp when I pick him up. Meanwhile, Zimrie's meandering around the hallway, still playing peacefully. I tell Ash that it's okay to be mad. I say that he can be sad and angry and upset, but that he has to stay in his room and he'll get a spanking if he comes out.
I've been trying to spank less because it doesn't seem to be that effective. It seems to manage symptoms a lot of times instead of the problems. And because, honestly, I can't always do it without anger.
I put Zimrie in the pack and play. Ash is remarkably staying in his room. Here is where the tears start and I slide down the wall and sit on the floor outside his door. I pray for patience and humility and strength. I repeat the fruits of the Spirit over and over, as if reciting them will make them take root. I take deep breaths. I just don't know what to do.
Should I go in and talk to him? Should I have just spanked him the first time he didn't come inside? Should I have talked with him before putting him in his bed? Was I too harsh? Too lenient? I ask that God would guide me. I stand up and open his door.
He's been up, because his light is on, but he's lying in bed. He sits up immediately, "I'm ready to talk about it now, Mom." "Good. I want to talk about it, too. Where would you like to begin?" I ask, drawing from my counseling sessions. "I would like to begin at the beginning when you told me I couldn't watch Jake and the Neverland Pirates." He is crying and trying not to cry. I tell him gently, "That wasn't the beginning, the beginning was when you disobeyed...." And we go on. He gets a little upset, but it's manageable this time. I feel like I'm being gentle, but firm. I tell him it's okay to be mad at me, but he's not going to change my mind, that he loses his privileges if he disobeys. I tell him that he can watch an episode when he wakes up. I tell him that he can be like the snake and try to do what he wants, or he can obey God who says to obey your parents. He starts to beg again and ask lots of questions. I feel like he's trying to manipulate, starting to try to find a loophole, so I tell him to lay down and I leave.
But it doesn't feel resolved. Things like this don't. He's still upset. I still don't know if it's the right thing. I text Seth lots of emotional things and he calls me and repeats, "He's three." At first I was annoyed, I felt like he wasn't really listening to the problem, but then it became comforting. He told me, "It's not like you're going to explain things to him and he will say, "You know what, Mom? I'm going to obey God. Thanks for teaching me a lesson." I know that. I know that. So why do I still seek some kind of affirmation at the end?
Asher has been in pull-ups at night and at nap time for about 9 months now. And I'm tired of it. He invariably poops in them every morning and every nap and I am so tired of spending $40 a month on pull-ups. So two days ago, I let him take a nap in his underwear and he woke up dry. So I tell him, "YAY! You are so big! No more pull-ups for naps! You can wear underwear!" (I use the term "naps" very loosely here. He takes quiet time in his room. He might sleep once a week, if that.)
So yesterday, I leave him in his underwear and he plays in his room quietly and when I go get him I see that he has a pull-up on. He has taken off his underwear, put on a pull-up, and pooped in it. I was, a little impressed at his initiative. But, seriously!? Having to use the bathroom is an excuse to come out of his room! Something he's always looking for. Why not take it?
So now, I take all his pull-ups with me when I leave him in his room. And today, he came out and pooped in the toilet! Hooray!
But yesterday, I was cursing pull-ups. And loopholes. And his ingenuity. Because, it is always a challenge. And there are always new things to consider.
His teacher sent home a newsletter today that said that he should practice writing his name several times a week. I read this with foreboding. Not because that's unreasonable. It's not! But my child is. Seriously. Me, trying to get Asher to sit down at the table, hold the pencil correctly, write his name. It's laughable. I know, I know... I should have more control over my own kid. I think that, too. But it's such a struggle.
He lays down on the bench. He holds the pencil like it's a flashlight. He scribbles all over the paper. I try to be serious: "No snack until you write an "A." I try to be casual: "Look at this tall mountain I drew! I'm going to put a line through it! Can you do that?" I try to be patient. I threaten. I listen.
And by this point, the dog is barking to go outside. While putting him out, I notice that the laundry is done washing, so I go to get it out of the washer to hang up on the drying racks, but the laundry basket is missing. Oh yeah, it's inside, holding my fabric for that unfinished project. Go in to get it, but Zimrie has pooped and needs a new diaper. Asher has ceased trying, and is just erasing everything on the page. Oh well. At least he's sitting at the table. Change Zimrie, get laundry basket, hang up wet laundry which takes forever. In the middle of it, referee a fight, put a kid in time-out, let the dog back inside, answer two texts, kiss an owie, try to ignore that the boys are taking off all of their clothes. Go start second load of laundry, I've misplaced my cell phone. Spend forever looking for it. Find a website that calls it for you, it's in the couch, and then I'm back at the table.
I think I'm way more proud of Asher's finished homework pages than he ever is. But it's not as if after one time of working with me he will be able to write his name. It helps to have his page done, or to see his practice, but this issue isn't resolved, either. I always tell other people that everything worthwhile takes time and hard work. And I believe that. But I'm realizing just how hard that is for me--to not have my efforts recognized immediately. To allow fruits of the Spirit to be cultivated instead of the fruit of my labors. To be focused on the journey, not the results. It's really, really, really hard. So maybe it's worthwhile.
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