Gentle Parenting Fail

I just read an article about mommy anger, frustration, and losing your cool. The struggle is real, my friends. I know someone else wrote about it well, I feel the need to share. This is like my own personal confession of my AP/gentle parenting failure. It happens to so many of us. And what's worse? We're not supposed to talk about it.

I experienced it last night while shopping with my wild thing and mom. He started biting me and I ended up flicking him in his little cheek each time he escalated the biting because he didn't get the result he wanted (me to put him down). Neither of us was hurt by the biting or flicking; just angry. I hate when I respond this way. It's usually lack of resources; being hungry and tired gets the better of both of us.

Then I realized how I was acting. Yes, how I was acting, not him. He's one. It's normal for him to lash out when he doesn't get what he's asking for. I, on the other hand, am supposed to be a mature adult. I am supposed to be the one who helps him regulate all of these big emotions. People were watching our interaction and I was not modeling gentle parenting or helping him calm down.

I took a deep breath, sat him on the floor, and talked about being gentle with each other (Yes, both of us need to be gentle and I use this as my apology for acting inappropriately). Then we both modeled gentle touches. When he shows me gentle touches he rubs me gently and says, "Nice." (It's cute, and helps me when I was ready to lose my ish with him a few seconds before). The whole interaction took less than a minute and it was over.

Gentle parenting win. At least until the next time toddlerhood meets tired, hungry, stressed mommy. Hopefully I'll do better next time. That's all I can hope for; to constantly improve my interactions with him and others.

Nursing vs. Weaning

I'm a nursing mama. My eighteen-month-old is an avid nurser. I've begun to wonder about the nature of our nursing relationship. It's strong and healthy. But, how long will it last? Longevity was not something I strove for when I began this journey a year and a half ago. Sheesh.

I'm not sure what began my pondering.
-- Maybe it was the woman in the Montana dinner who sneered at me from behind her Elton John glasses and shook her head with disapproval, while whispering to her tablemates.
-- Maybe it was my family beginning to question me as my wild thing neared a year old, then continuing to make sarcastic "subtle" comments.
-- Maybe it was my pediatrician who said he supported my decision, but warned me about the social pressure I would face.
-- Maybe it was me who wanted my body to myself (as my little guy did downward dog while nursing) or longed for a full night of sleep. 

Though I can't pinpoint when, the fact is I've begun wondering. When is the right time? Mine, his, society's? There are times I want it to be in my time. I want to be in control. I'm bigger, older, and used to getting my way when it comes to my body. But I wonder about my wild thing. What am I teaching him if I force him to give up something he loves (sometimes the only comfort he has)?
  Am I teaching him that his feelings mean nothing?
    Am I teaching him that I am attuned to his needs?
In answer to these questions, I'd have to say I wouldn't be the kind of mom I work so hard to be. Nursing or not, I want to be the mom who raises a little boy who: knows he's important to me, knows I listen and try to understand, has the confidence to explore and learn and trust. (Whoa! That's a big one...trust. Trust others to care and meet his needs. Trust himself.)

Nursing will go on until it's our time to wean. When is that? When he's ready, we're ready. When he can understand boundaries and is able to self-soothe, I may feel comfortable nudging him in that direction. Despite all of the tricks I've read about for gentle nursing, I know he's not ready for that. He can't grasp that we only nurse when the sun is out and he certainly doesn't understand when I tell him he can't nurse. It's heartbreaking for him. That's when his big emotions take over and he can't cope. That's when he needs me to comfort him, not turn him away.

To toddlerhood.

I love when my wild thing stirs in his sleep and stretches. His little toes spread out on the ends of his chubby feet.

I love when I've gone somewhere and he sees me come through the door or walking across the room. He gasps, smiles, and says, "Mama." My cowboy did that every time I got him from daycare.

I love when he says a new word or fits in a puzzle piece and yells, "Did it!" He's so proud of his accomplishments and wants us to be too.

I love when my wild thing lays down at night and, sometimes, I get 3 hours of freedom before he needs me.

I love that he wakes up and asks for me (even when I'm in the middle of something and I want hubs to handle it). It makes me smile.

It's the little things, in this time of exploration, volatile emotions, self-assertion, and expanding vocabulary. If there wasn't joy in small moments or accomplishments, these days would be overwhelming indeed.

To toddlerhood. You're bittersweet.

Accidents?

Recently, various home and vehicle safety items have been arriving in the mail. Knowing that I have ordered these items, and wanting to be gentle with me, my husband asks, "What are you suddenly afraid of?" My answer? "Life. I'm afraid of life." I'm not even sure how to articulate my fear, except to say the world is a scary, unpredictable place. Generally, my struggle with fear runs on the back burner of my mind at a low simmer. Lately, however, it's almost all I can think about.

The internet reveals dangers on a daily basis.
Child dies of secondary drowning.
Child is strangled by minivan seat belt.
Child dies of hyperthermia when left in the car by parent.
Vaccine deaths.
Measles outbreak.
Whooping cough outbreak.

HOW CAN I PROTECT MY CHILD FROM DANGER? I'm sorry, I'm yelling. I'm out of control with worry.

If I watch my child like a hawk and take precautions will God keep him healthy, safe, and alive? Not necessarily.

Things happen..."accidents" happen.
Is leaving your child alone in the car after forgetting to drop them at daycare an accident?
Is ignoring your child as he wanders into the backyard and falls into the pool an accident?
Is your child falling out the second-story window an accident?

Here's my answer. "No!"

Only I can protect my child and, even then, there are no guarantees. Only you can protect your child. I feel like Smokey the Bear here. ("Only you can prevent forest fires.")

"How can I live like this?" you ask. I don't. Most of the time. Sometimes, like now, it gets the better of me. My need to save my child is so strong that I find myself ordering seat belt cutters, window locks, second-story window ladders, etc., etc. I worry that I will be the one to neglect my child in the moment that matters; in the moment that saves his life. I worry that something else will happen, outside of my control (as with my cowboy), and I will lose him. I will lose my baby again. I'm not sure I could live with that.

Hours upon hours.

Today I was away from my wild thing for four hours. FOUR hours. It seems like nothing. He goes to daycare for this many hours a few times each week. I always go check on him, cuddle, nurse, or visit for a little bit each day. Today, I didn't. Today, I trusted his teachers. Trusted that they would call me if he needed to nurse. They didn't call. My wild thing ate a ton of food...I mean, a ton for him. And nursed as soon as I got there, a ravenous little beast. Now he's crashed in the backseat cozy, with me. We survived. We came back together, like always.

I love my wild thing and miss him like the dickens when we're apart. I also have school work, research responsibilities, and a thesis to write. Today, four hours. Tomorrow, a thesis.

Gripped by Fear

Today I was
gripped by fear
after reading
the story of
a little boy
who
chased a frisbee
into the street
and
was hit
by a truck
and
killed.
Not
my baby.
Not
today.
It could be;
any day,
any time.

My One-Year-Old Boys

When my cowboy turned one, we had a party. He swam with his daddy. He ate a little green birthday cake.
He was
walking,
talking,
skinny,
social,
sleeping through the night,
napping alone,
spending the night at Grammie's,
riding horses,
and,
most important,
happy and loved.

My wild thing turned one, and we had a party. He threw up on me multiple times and went to urgent care. He played balls with his daddy. He destroyed a little green birthday cake (though the color was coincidence).
He is
crawling,
cruising,
talking,
social,
shy when mommy's not around,
nursing through the night,
napping with mommy,
chubby,
exploratory,
and,
most important,
happy and loved.

My wild thing is not my cowboy. They are different and alike. They are both occupying my heart. They are loved. I read a quote the other day that had the dsfinition of a mother. It said she will hold you in her heart until her last breath. I read it as, "...until your last breath." And thought it was a vast underestimation. She will remember you so far beyond that. It made me sad because I know things about mothering that many don't. I know that this birthday, this day, is worth remembering. You could have thousands of todays together or this one could be the last.