Finding our way to nothing

Day Three of the Parenting On Track program:

By Friday afternoon, the mess had started getting to us. Cereal all over the living and dining room floors, the couch cushions on the floor, and the ubiquitous toys, toys, toys everywhere. So - we cleaned up. We thought, maybe it would be our version of nothing to throw everything into a trash bag and stash it away somewhere.

Friday, we filled two trash bags. Yesterday, we filled one. Today we filled another one. And then we realized. They don't care if we take away the toys. They are pretty sure they'll get them back one day. If not, they have plenty more. And when we cleaned up, we did just what they wanted and expected. We reacted.

So, tonight, we dumped the trash bags out on the floor of the living room, where they will stay until the week's end. This will pose some problems for AD's meetings in the home office, but I suppose we'll figure something out.

The past three nights, we also made dinner for the family. We are used to family dinners. We like them ... but they are another thing that causes family fights. The cook (usually AD) feels disgruntled when the fruits of his efforts are not appreciated or even consumed. And then there's the cleanup. We left their dishes from the last two days where they were, but cleaned up the food, out of concern that they would get food poisoning from eating it. Tonight's dinner still sits partially eaten on the table.

We also clean up food that gets left out that we may want to eat. Well, I think we'll continue to do that. I like to have smoked salmon on my bagel. I'm sure the cats would like the fish, too, but they didn't buy it.

Then there are the dishes. So far, we have done partial cleanup of the kitchen several times - the kitchen mess really is mostly our mess. In fact, the kitchen is the biggest reason that we hired a house-cleaner to come once a week. She usually cleans up the bedrooms, changes the sheets, cleans the bathrooms, floors, living room and kitchen. I asked her not to come this week.

R & E have been up more than two hours past "bed-time" each of the last three nights. I have been putting V. to bed at a somewhat regular time. I usually nurse him & rock him to get him to sleep. But should I? He is 16 months old now. Should I give him the opportunity to get really tired and fall asleep on his own?

Of course having a one-year-old in the house complicates the rest of the clean-up issues as well. When the boys broke a dish as they played with their dinner tonight, we cleaned it up so that the baby wouldn't get glass in his feet. Should we have left it there, for big brothers to see the consequences of their inaction, instead of our reaction to it? I don't know. To be fair, they had cleaned up all the big pieces - just hadn't thought of a broom.

I also don't know if R will go to school tomorrow. And what should I do if he doesn't? Call the school to vouch for him? Let the absence be unexcused and wait for the truancy officer to call us or knock on our door? Complicating this issue is that he is underchallenged and unenthusiastic about school. We have decided to homeschool in the fall, but the paperwork is not yet filed, so officially he needs to go. Should I file the paperwork to homeschool and let him just skip the rest of the year?

Although it must sound like it, the past few days have not been all bad. We have doled out a lot of hugs and kisses. We have played games with the boys. We are learning to use questions and "I statements" instead of solving the boys' problems for them. We have become more aware of our habits and emotions. We have discovered that R is capable of making French toast by himself (although he needed help lighting the burner). E can wipe his own bottom after using the toilet (although we felt the need to help him clean up his hands and feet afterwards). R & E are capable of going around the block by themselves. And, if we tell them, "we are leaving, we have our cell phones, you know how to reach us", they believe us. (We had V with us, and fortunately, R & E decided at that moment to hurry out the door after us, so we didn't have to test our resolve.)

Tomorrow I will try to write more about the discoveries we are making about ourselves and the boys.

Parenting On Track: Day One

Parenting, recently, has been exhausting and exasperating. I don't think much has changed besides my perception, but perceptions can be powerful. Thanks to some intriguing reporting on the program from Jena, we decided to try Parenting On Track.

Wow.

Saying nothing is extremely difficult. Doing nothing is extremely difficult. The results are powerful.

It started this morning at least an hour before I was hoping to get up; "Mommy, how do you turn the computer on." In my drowsy, hopeful state, I murmured, "The power strip is unplugged."

That was my first mistake. But I was really hoping for another hour of sleep.

He took the initiative to look up "power strip" in the dictionary, but apparently the search was not fruitful. For the next hour, all I heard, in increasing desperation was, "What is a power strip?"

Since then, I've been hit, yelled at, doused with water, pestered with incessant repetitions of the same question, and told, "this is my worst day ever."

I also watched my son follow me up and down the sidewalk on his scooter, with pants on backwards, only one shoe on, and screaming the entire time. I saw him look me in the eye, pick up a can of soda from the counter and drink some. I could see the gears turning, Mommy is not answering me/paying attention to me/letting me control her. I'll try something else that usually gets a reaction. I have also witnessed fighting with his brother to get attention, attempting to disrupt what we are doing to get attention, and, after being told that unsafe behavior will not be tolerated, yelling for help, to be rescued from a marginally safe activity. Oh, and he didn't go to school today.

It's freeing, really, not to have to respond to this atrocious behavior. I have witnessed from the receiving end that repeating a request does not make it happen. That yelling does not make it happen. That violence does not make it happen. That threats (even when carried through) do not make it happen. I ashamedly admit that I already know what these behaviors look like from the other end.

It is much more difficult not to respond to comparatively easy requests delivered in a somewhat reasonable fashion. But doing things for them is what they want, part of the way I interfere with their growth towards independence, and only fosters more requests to take care of things they can do themselves. So I consider the request, and help if I suspect that they really need it. If I suspect they don't, I attempt to ignore it and let the situation escalate.

A byproduct of this approach is that because I am not soliciting/serving/cleaning up after the boys, I suddenly seem to have a lot more time. I don't know what to do with myself.

And so I write.

Jump-starting my imagination

E: Mommy, I have some eggs benedict for you.
(Shows me a plate full of coins.)
Me: Where did that money come from?
E: It's not money, it's eggs benedict.
Me: Well, then, where did the eggs benedict come from?
E: I just made it.
Me: But where did the ingredients come from?
E: I got them at Ikea.

Oh. Guess it's time to eat some eggs benedict.

Riding the Rapids of Life

Time keeps flowing no matter how I wish for a respite.
I don't write.
I am scattered.
At times I struggle for breath.

I am overwhelmed by a torrent of activities and fundraisers.
Elementary school, preschool, temple, sunday school, art classes, cub scouts, field trips.
Drop offs and pick ups. Never-ending plains of dishes. Mountains of laundry.
The water level rises.

Currents and eddies pull me this way and that. Occasionally I find some respite.

Little things matter. For R, my sensitive one, a host of worries accompany the first loose tooth:
First, "Mommy, I think we should go to the dentist. My tooth hurts. I bit a popsicle stick." Once we explained that he's probably just losing his first baby tooth. "Mommy, I don't think I should eat anything hard until my baby tooth falls out and my new tooth comes in." And tonight, "Mommy, tomorrow, let's google the tooth fairy, to see if she will take a note if I swallow my tooth and still give me a prize."

My dreamer, E, assured me he wanted to go to preschool "all the days as I can". Now that he is enrolled four days a week, I think he misses leisurely mornings with mommy as much as I do. We make up for lost time in the afternoon. "Mommy, this is a magic broomstick that will take us to Mars. Oh - we forgot the map. [pushes imaginary button on wall] Here it is! Now we can go to Mars." And later, "Mommy, let's pretend we're ladybugs and we're climbing up the stems to get the aphids. Now I'm a ladybug with a kitchen. What would you like to eat? I have aphid chicken soup for you. And some ice cream."

Now 9 months old, V is a beautiful, exhausting whirlwind of ups and downs.
He enchants me with his squeals of delight. He calls for mama when is tired or hungry, and melts my heart. He impresses me with his cleverness by heading straight for the cat food when he wants to be picked up. He tosses food on the floor when it's not to his liking - only to change is mind and eat it from the floor before I get to cleaning it up. His top two front teeth have finally broken through, after weeks of teething pain and accompanying sleepless nights. Still, on few nights I get to sleep through until 5 or 6, I wake up startled and worried that I haven't heard from him yet. All too soon, I'm sure, I'll miss his morning snuggles.

I feel battered physically & emotionally from life's ride these past few months. I still want to finish unpacking, organize, start making little repairs and improvements we've imagined - but I find it impossible to make any headway in the midst of the bedlam created by our beautiful boys. I need to take care of my health but it always takes a backseat to my babies. I don't work, and yet I still struggle for balance.

Milestones pass in the blink of an eye. The current is swift. I often find it hard to sit back and enjoy the ride, but it is always well worth it when I do.

Savoring Summer's End

In the mornings recently, a deliciously cool breeze blows through our bedroom window, reminding me of the cool weather around the corner. By afternoon, the heat sets in, encouraging me to daydream about just which location would be right for a nice shade tree.

The Composer, in his own baby way, has captured this cusp of the seasons; he loves chewing on watermelon rinds and apple cores.

In a furious frenzy to pack in all the fun that we can before school starts, we've been, in the past week, to the museum, the beach, the movies, and apple picking. We sent the Painter off to visit with his grandparents for a few days, allowing me the presence of mind to remember to call the preschool to which I have been interested in sending the Inventor. As a result, I will now be sending two of my babies off to new schools in the next few weeks.

Suddenly summer seems too short.

Washed away.

Too many days drifting, and I start to feel washed away. Need to *do* something, *accomplish* something, have some time for me. I've been alternately cranky and patient with the boys, and with AD. We have had some nice time lying in the back yard looking at the trees & the sky, reading books about alligators, pirates, nutrition - we love the library.

Today I accomplished something - two loads of laundry helped to wash away my day, as well as some weeding. We have some beautiful vining toxic weeds in our garden, that I decided were too hazardous to health of the wee ones, as well as to the other plants in the garden. We also did the requisite shopping in preparation for the school year, although we didn't buy any pants, since R & I couldn't agree on the size. (He insists he should wear his age, which would have him stylishly tripping over the pant legs and wearing them out too soon to pass along. You see the trouble.)

Why does this not feel like enough?

Stained glass class is over for 3 weeks now, and despite best intentions, I have not kept dates with myself to keep working on my own.

I feel ill at ease. In the evening I have become a surfer instead of a drifter, riding the internet waves, speeding away from the discomfort, but not getting anywhere. I search for a cure, but I am not broken. Discomfort is okay. Hunger is okay. Sadness is okay. Anger is okay. I don't need to cure myself for feeling the full spectrum of human emotion. Like all emotions, these also come and go. I am okay.

When I stop the thrill ride and accept my thoughts and feelings for what they are, they lose their power. The swells diminish. The pendulum slows and returns to center. Centered, I carry on.

Drifting away

Like the codas below, I find myself drifting away. I drift where life leads, and spend less and less time in front of the computer. Partly, we moved the computer into the office, leaving it somewhat inaccessible to me while AD is working. More than that, however, I'm just living, as best I can, right now. My life goes from breathtaking to infuriating and back a thousand times a day:

I delight as I watch V gleefully bounce in his jumper, listen to E's imaginative description of the world he lives in, and survey R's increasingly unusual whiteboard art. I sigh when I'm covered in baby poop, again, or find more to clean up from another source. I roll my eyes when I discover the window screen ripped to shreds, and NOT by the cats. Then we go out to the beach for a picnic, and E is disappointed that we can't plant the roasted sunflower seeds I brought with us for a snack. What a beautiful thought, to plant flowers on the beach. V is crawling, like an inchworm, which makes it difficult to keep him from eating sand or other things he shouldn't. He seems to know the difference between baby food and people food, and has decided he deserves the latter. And he is still a "spitter". R seems so mature sometimes, outgrowing childish refusal to utter the name of an animal he doesn't like, then must make a game of everything to take twice as long keep from getting bored. And E ... well, "no" is the first two letters of his middle name. In our house, we get "terrible threes".

And that's just the boys. AD's mom visited us last week, so we took her to visit the city and the lake and the state fair, we had a family dinner, and a date (woowee! first adults-only movie at the theater since ???), and a couple nice evenings getting to know the neighbors. Busy, yes, but not too busy to hear that AD will be much busier soon. As will we all. First grade starts for R in just three weeks.

In the midst of this wonder, this exhaustion, this joy, this laundry, this aching body, I sometimes think about writing, but life goes too fast and the moment passes me by, leaving only these remnants as evidence that I have a brain:

Titles for Almost Posts:

Suddenly six months (about V)

First Tooth (now second)

One Year Ago (what started our move)

Where I've been and where I'm going

Art Glass (work in progress)

and without a title, pictures pictures pictures.

Sometimes I worry about not "getting anything done", when we don't manage to get out of the house all day, but what's the point? I make a goal to get out of the house the next day and see how it goes. I can only be where I am.

Right now, I am not much here. I could worry about that, but I think I'll just take things day by day and see how it goes. I invite you to do the same.