Last night, my wild thing was fussy. He wouldn't soothe or go to sleep. I knew he was tired, but he wouldn't relax and kept spitting out his paci. He started screaming and I felt myself getting more tense. My husband came up and sweetly offered to take the wild thing and walk with him awhile. You would think I said, "Yes, please and thank you." That's what any normal person would do.
Not me! I have to prove it to myself and hubs and my wild thing that I can handle it...not just that I can handle it, but that I can overcome my own frustration and be calm. I have to do this so well that my wild thing also calms and sleeps. Because babies, like bees, can smell fear. Haha! (I don't know if that's really true about bees...but definitely about babies.)
My own personal zen is forced...it's a learned behavior. What does it get me (besides a sleeping baby), you ask. Well, composure. I remember a time when my cowboy was sick. I'd gotten bad news and was outside the hospital talking to some girlfriends. There was this woman crying hysterically. I don't blame her...we all hurt and cry. At the time, all I could think was, "Your grief is interfering with my composure." My friends laughed when I said this.
The thing is, it's stuck with me. Composure is a huge thing for me. It's part of how I define myself. What I'm thinking now is, "What the heck is wrong with me?" ;)
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