8000 shades of grey...

There are no real rules for raising children.

Most of us are aware of the basic guidelines: "Don't abuse them, try to keep them clean, feed and water them regularly, and let them have sufficient sleep." But anything after that, you're pretty much flying solo.

(And also, feeling a bit like a giant failure when you child refuses to sleep, decides that they will not put anything remotely healthy in their mouth, is constantly grubby no matter how many times you wipe them up, and is covered in so many bruises from falling off his own two feet, that you've started getting "The Look" from strangers on the street.)

There are resources for us to turn to: books, the internet, parenting workshops, advice from friends/family....

But none of it is right.

There is no "right" way to get your child to sleep, nothing that works for everyone. This irks my logical brain, because it really wants to follow a formula and get results - it knows how to do that. Sorry brain. No such thing exists.

So, again and again we are cast into the unknown, to figure out what is "right" for us. We stumble around in the dark looking for inspiration or evidence that will lead us down that glorious path, and, once on it, try to avoid the many distracting side roads, that somehow always look so much more appealing after a course has been chosen...

One of my "rules" is: "If it's not damaging you (physically, intellectually or emotionally) ,damaging anyone else, or destructive to property, go for it."

The theory behind this was that I didn't want to stamp out any creative or exuberant behavior, simply because It would inconvenience me, or wasn't social acceptable. Part of the "learning who they are" extravaganza.

So, beds get jumped on. Screaming "BANG SONG" in the car, over and over, to see who can get the loudest happens. Goop gets made out of dirt, water, paint, flour, and anything else they want to throw in to see what it does. 100 balloons are blown up and stuffed in the hallway so they can run through them - then are moved to the kitchen because "balloon land" can apparently not exist in the hallway - only the kitchen. Swims are taken in the middle of winter by putting the paddling pool in the house and filling it up with warm water (why not just fill up the bath? Because that is not a swim. It is a bath.)

And, my personal favorite to date: Walking through a crowded mall, with a two and a half year old that has just learned the correct name for all his body parts, and feels the overwhelming urge to sing a song about penises, and butterflies. (And because I know that you're dying to know what that sounds like, I'll demonstrate: Ahem.... "Penis, penis butterfly.... PEEEEnis, Penis butterFLLLLLY, PEEEENIS! PENIS BUTTERFLLLLY!!!!!!....."). It was pretty funny. Even with the dark looks I was getting from a mother who had all three of her "good" children sitting quietly in a trolley.

The hardest part in this is that I won't know until the boys are adults, whether this was a "right" path to take. Whether it assists them on the journey to self awareness, or helps turn them into inconsiderate, self centered brats. It's a bit of a gamble.

But, decisions still have to be made. We will continue to wade through the endless sea of grey, vainly looking for something even remotely black or white to cling to, and when that fails, and we are running out of time and energy to make a choice, we will find a shade to resonate with our lifestyle, and hope that we weren't just a couple of degrees off.


xox

Breaking through...

What is the answer to a child's extremely withdrawn and shy personality in public?

Is it exposure? If he's exposed enough, he will eventually get used to it, right?

Is it confidence? That if you can build up his confidence enough in private, that will give him confidence in public?

How about reason? If you can help him gain insight into why he feels so uncertain, he will be able to overcome it....

No. The answer my friends, is a magical Spiderman suit.

We got Connah a spiderman suit for Christmas. It cost nine dollars. He wore it once.

He then re-discovered it in his draw three weeks ago, and has not worn regular clothes since.

I first realized that it was a magic suit on the Monday night after he started wearing it. I was putting him to bed, and he asked, just like every other night: "What kind of day is after this sleep?" (There are three kinds: gran days, kindy days, and home days.)
"It's a kindy day tomorrow." I replied, bracing myself for his quiet "but I don't like to go there...." and the slide into the withdrawn shell he becomes.

Instead, he said: "I'm gonna wear my spiderman suit tomorrow, the kids will be soooo surprised to see my spiderman suit!"

Hmmm, that's new....

The next day, he went to Childcare in his suit. He did not cling to my hand. He did not cry when I left. He waved goodbye at the fence, and was off running before I even pulled out of the parking lot.

Magic.

I have read studies and reports on the psychological effects of wearing a costume, so I'm familiar with the concepts of gaining confidence and social skills through the wearing of one, but I have never seen it demonstrated this dramatically - It was as if he was very ready to take that step, he just needed a catalyst.

We now have two suits - a red and a black. I got the second because it was becoming quite a struggle to get the damn thing washed and dried every night so it could be worn again the next day.
Fail.
I now have two suits to wash and dry every night, because sometimes you NEED to be red spiderman, sometimes you NEED to be black spiderman, and most days you NEED to switch halfway through.

Have I taken the easy way out here? Probably. But, after almost six months of feeling like my guts is getting ripped out twice a week, I finally feel like we're making progress. The spiderman suit can stay. Best nine dollars I ever spent.

My theory is, that he will eventually feel comfortable without it. That the skills he is now learning will become part of who he is, so that when he moves on to the next phase, he will take them with him.

The other option is that he wears a spiderman suit for the rest of his life. Lets not go there unless we have to.


xox

Virgo rising...

I had forgotten how much fun one year olds can be. If you do not have regular access to a one year old, I highly recommend you borrow one for the day.

The Attack has always been a somewhat difficult baby. They say your second child is always easier then your first. They are so very wrong. And I thought I was pretty prepared because my first wasn't exactly a walk in the park.

No, The Attack is not easy. He has never slept well, has always been rather demanding, and
If he doesn't want someone to hold him, (or touch him, or look at him sideways...) then that person will damn well not hold him.... or, if they insist, he'll at least make the experience as unpleasant as possible so that they never want to try again.

This, however has always been more than balanced out by his all consuming charisma. This child sparkles.

I'll hear him start screaming at 3am, so I'll jump out of bed to save him from the monster, who must be dangling him by one leg over a pot of soup by all the noise he's making, and as soon as I enter his room, he is silent. I creep over to make sure he isn't suffocating on his meow meow, and see just his eyes peeking out from under his blanket. "Peepo. PEEEpo....PEEEEPO!" Yes, Ash. You are very cute and funny. Now go to sleep.

He is shockingly polite for a one year old. He always says please and thank you, and has recently started with "excuse me". This helps him get his own way a lot. Imagine you are sitting in a chair, doing your own thing, and a cute little face is staring up at you earnestly asking "Scuse eh pleah." (Excuse me please.) whilst patting your arm. You of course think he's trying to get past, so get up to let him through, whereupon he immediately clambers into your chair and starts zooming his car on the table. You have just lost your chair. Deal with it.

He finds joy in so many things: Bubbles, watching him run around trying to catch them on his tongue screaming "dinner!" is fricken hilarious.
Running as fast as he can, which is pretty slow but looks amazingly difficult, and dangerous as his body tries to keep up with his legs.
Holding animals. If they are small, great. If they are big, it makes it harder, but they will still be held.

Yes, everything is awesome when you're one. Which is what makes being around them so awesome as well.


xox

Living With Fear...

"The issue is not whether you are paranoid, the issue is whether you are paranoid enough."


When it comes to my boys, I am paranoid.

It does not stem from love, as I once thought it did. With love, there is a certain amount of acceptance, and trust that everything will work out - if not well - exactly as it should.

No, it is not love that creates paranoia, it's obsession. And obsession has no patients for acceptance and trust.

Parenting is hard. We are all told how hard as soon as people learn we are expecting, usually with a knowing smile, and an "You'll find out soon enough" gleam in the eyes. It is hard, but not for the reasons I was led to believe.

Do I enjoy having 3 hours of broken sleep a night for weeks on end? Not particularly.
Is it fun to be constantly turning down invitations to day trips, or nights out, or weekends away? No. No it is not.
What about the thrill of changing dirty nappies, tantrums, public scenes, and cleaning up vomit? Awesome stuff, but not my favorite activities....

These are the things I was led to believe would be hard, and they can be, but if we're working to a difficulty scale, they will never come close to comparing with the torrent of tragic scenarios that fly through my head on a daily basis.

What is it that I fear? The short answer is: Most things.

They mainly fall into three categories: I fear accidents, natural disasters, and people. Most of all people.

I will not elaborate on these things, to give weight to them seems like a taunt to the law of attraction, so they forever live like fog in my mind - I will not dwell on them, but seeing through the veil of mist influences every parenting decision I make. Can I avoid the law of attraction by deliberately not focusing? I hope so.

Are some people just in more danger than others? Is there some inexplicable threat hanging over my boys that I instinctively feel?... Am I only doing exactly what it takes to keep them safe?

Or, is my own self-importance feeding this?

I know parents, good parents who love there children emphatically, that don't seem to share this anxiety. They are aware of the dangers and risks, but know the chances of them happening are small, so can move on with little hindrance.

Statistics mean nothing to me. If the chance exists, it is a possibility, and therefore an attempt must be made to guard against it.

In saying all this, I know I can not protect them from everything - I'm not supposed to. Maybe one day I'll be able to send them to their grans house for the weekend, and not have that underlying feeling of dread in the pit of my stomach, not have the urge to call 50 times to see how they're doing.

One day, but not this day.

I have made a truce with the paranoia and obsession, and for the most part, the co-exist peacefully with the love. But they are always there in my peripheral mind, because, in all truth, if they are helping me keep the boys even the tiniest bit safer, I'm not prepared to give them up.


xox

Beautiful...

A few days ago, I went to pick up Connah from childcare. I was in a hurry, already running a bit late to collect Ashden from my mother, and had to get petrol on the way.
I signed him out, took his hand and led him through the doors, where he stopped walking and just stood there like a stone.
I braced myself for the coming tantrum, trying to anticipate the fastest way to get through it so we wouldn't be any later than we already were, and had just decided that picking him up and plonking him in the car whilst trying to avoid any helicoptering appendages seemed like a good option, when I looked down and saw his face.

"Mummy...." he breathed "Look at the Craying Mantis..... It's soooooo BeaUTIful!"

I followed his awestruck gaze to the praying mantis on the wall in front of us. It was big, and green, with only three working legs, just watching us with it's creepy alien-looking head.

So I sat with him on the concrete, in the middle of the walkway, and spent ten minutes seeing through his eyes. It no longer mattered that we were late, or that it was hot, or that I had a million things on my mind that day.

We were looking at a bug. And it was beautiful.





xox

What lies beneath....

We have hit a tantrum phase with Connah. Tantrums which involve throwing himself on the floor, kicking out at anything that dares come into contact with his flailing little feet, and cry-screaming, which goes a little bit like this:

WaaaaaaaeeeeeEEEEEEeeeeee waaaaeeeeeee WAAAAAeeeEEEEeeEEEEEEEEEE WWWAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAAEEEEEEeeeeeeeEEEEE.

It. Is. Awesome.

It is also very draining. I have considered several times over the past week the possibility of him being switched for a changeling. It is a very real concern at times, as I don't know this destructive, abrasive creature.

And then, just like magic, it will end and he is back to being my Connah.

The first couple of times it happened, I just stopped and stared at him: Maybe he's having some sort of epileptic fit? - his eyes haven't rolled back in his head, and his movements seem deliberate.... Has he been stung by a poisonous spider? - he's not clutching at any specific body part, I don't think he's in pain.... Is he just kidding? He does like to trick me.... No, No, he's really going to town, I think he's serious.

After that, parent mode kicked in, and it was time to come up with a game plan.

I have no interest in trying to stop the tantrums from happening. He is expressing emotion. This is good. But I need him to be able to figure out how to express it in a healthy manner, so I don't want to encourage the tantrums either.... nobody likes a 25 year old man throwing himself on the floor kicking at the chair legs, because somebody else got the last cookie.

So, I don't want to stop the tantrums, and I don't want to encourage the tantrums.... my, aren't we in a bind? :)

What's left? Ride it out. It's a phase, I am aware of that. We are not actively engaging him while he's a mess on the floor, but also not ignoring him. If I ask him if he's ready for lunch, and am greeted with: "WAAAAAAEEeeeeeEEEE." I know he's not ready, and will leave him for a while. He's held accountable for any mess he's made during the tantrum. And I stay calm.


It'll all blow over in a week.


Yeah right.



xox

Into the Breach - part three....

Connah has now been attending childcare two mornings a week, for three months.

Three months, and I still get butterflies in my stomach on Tuesday and Thursday mornings, anticipating the inevitable question: "Is it a kindy day today?"

He doesn't throw tantrums, or even get upset. He just silently and passively resists.

A blankness comes over him, and it's like something has stolen his vitality away. He is a shadow of his usual self, as if, by partitioning the vibrant part away, he can become invisible enough to protect himself from the perceived dangers.

To watch him at his Christmas "concert", surrounded by all of the other children singing and dancing, was brutal. The vacant expression took over, his eyes fixed on something internal, and he waited. He was jostled around by happy children with flailing arms and legs, and he just waited for it to be over.

He goes through the basic motions at Childcare. He sits on the mat when he's told. He eats when he's told. He lies down for his rest when he's told. He now plays, and has started to interact more with the other children.

But he doesn't glow.

Every time I have to leave him there, I hesitate. I don't mean to, but I look at his crumpled little tear stained face, and I can't just walk out the door and trust that he'll be fine. Because I do not know for sure that he will be. So I hesitate, and because I do, he knows on some level that I haven't completely embraced the idea.


Am I hindering him? Is this a self fulfilling prophecy? Can you fulfill someone else's prophecy?



The unexpected part in all this, is how he now is at home.

He sings constantly. He knows all the words to dozens of songs, and will recite stories when he thinks no one is listening, so while he will not participate at childcare, he is absorbing the information.

He is loud now. Only at home, but loud, and occasionally defiant.

He barely ever stops moving, I'm constantly asking him if he needs to go to the bathroom, because he's bobbing around like he's about to burst.

He has started trying out little power plays, where he will refuse to let Mark do things for him. (get his breakfast, give him a bath, hold his hand to cross the road ect.) He rarely gets away with it, so now he cries - very loudly - through a lot of breakfast/bath/road crossings.

He plays independently, something he has never willingly done before.

He is much more open to trying new foods. In the last couple of months we have discovered that he doesn't like gherkins, pizza, tomatoes, yellow/orange melon, or anything with the word pie in it - He thinks he might like them all when he gets a bit bigger.

Are these things in direct relation to childcare? Or is this all just part of him now being 3?
I think it's probably both.

We are continuing at this stage, because while I could pull him out now, and give him a couple more years at home to help him develop a stronger sense of self, and possibly better coping skills, I believe it will only make it that much harder for him to adjust when it's time. He is stubborn, and doesn't like change. I don't think that will be any different when he's 5.

So, we will go back every Tuesday and Thursday morning, and I will believe. I will believe that this day will be better than the last. And I will keep believing until I will it into existence.

Until he glows again.



xox