Sunday, May 31, 2009
something I found along the way
Today my mind was in a million places all at once. I found it slightly maddening. I tried searching for some calm, a bit of simplicity in an overcomplicated world but peace was hiding, apparently, because I certainly couldn't find it. I tried the usual fixes - chocolate first, mindless internet surfing second. Although I did manage to escape reality for a bit as I watched the finale of Britan's Got Talent, alas, it was short lived (I am glad to see that Diversity won, Yay! They deserved it). At the peak of my desperation I decided to go for a run. Somewhere along the road the thought occurred to me that I was really being overwhelmed by non-essentials. A year from now I won't even remember being concerned about the things bombarding me today. In that way, I suppose, forgetfulness is a great blessing. So now I return with a beautiful sense of calm and the understanding that peace can be found - if you know where to look for it.
Friday, May 15, 2009
following the rules that I myself have made up for my son
And right now while I am writing Shaun is doing something essential and helpful like folding laundry or learning how to make more money and I am doing what is inexplicably essential to me – writing.
Today I’m thinking about following rules. Specifically, following the rules that I myself have made up for my son.
The first year with Seth was easy. There were no rules then. They only became necessary when he started wrecking the house and otherwise behaving badly. And yes they were (and continue to be) challenging for him but what surprises me is how difficult some of them are for me. Take, for example, the early rules: No hitting, No biting, No throwing. No hitting was easy. I’m way too non-confrontational to have issues in that area. No biting, also easy. No throwing…well, that was a tough one.
Something like 98% of the time I am calm, patient, and generally tolerant of people and situations but there is the odd occasion when my temper gets the best of me and I do something that violates this “no throwing” rule. So there, I admit it, I throw things; I am a thing thrower. Actually the statement “throw things” is not entirely true. I’ve never thrown much in the plural sense. I would say instead that I throw a thing– thing being whatever tool, frying pan, or unattached object somehow connected with the distressing situation. I do take some comfort in the fact that I’ve never actually thrown any thing at a human target, say my husband (for which he is unknowingly grateful). I simply propel the thing in the general direction of “away from me.” And while I’ve never really been proud of this type of behavior, I did feel it provided some sort of positive stress relief and since no one was hurt in the process, it could be deemed as harmless, and perhaps even beneficial. Then along came one-year old Seth and the sudden realization that his two little eyes were watching me, learning from me and that is when I realized I had to change. If throwing was unacceptable for Seth then why was it acceptable for me?
They have a name for people who make up rules that they themselves don’t follow- they’re called hypocrites. And the fact is, I don’t want my son to grow up thinking I am a hypocrite. Okay he’s four now so he doesn’t actually have a good working definition of that word but when he gets one I don’t want it to be associated with me.
So that was the first step to following the rules that I myself made up for my son. It hasn’t been so very hard, not throwing things. I try to do what I’ve taught my son to do – take a break from the situation, do something different, take three deep breaths, etc. And it seems to be working – for both of us. I can’t remember the last time either of us let something fly. And I couldn’t be more proud of us.
Today I’m thinking about following rules. Specifically, following the rules that I myself have made up for my son.
The first year with Seth was easy. There were no rules then. They only became necessary when he started wrecking the house and otherwise behaving badly. And yes they were (and continue to be) challenging for him but what surprises me is how difficult some of them are for me. Take, for example, the early rules: No hitting, No biting, No throwing. No hitting was easy. I’m way too non-confrontational to have issues in that area. No biting, also easy. No throwing…well, that was a tough one.
Something like 98% of the time I am calm, patient, and generally tolerant of people and situations but there is the odd occasion when my temper gets the best of me and I do something that violates this “no throwing” rule. So there, I admit it, I throw things; I am a thing thrower. Actually the statement “throw things” is not entirely true. I’ve never thrown much in the plural sense. I would say instead that I throw a thing– thing being whatever tool, frying pan, or unattached object somehow connected with the distressing situation. I do take some comfort in the fact that I’ve never actually thrown any thing at a human target, say my husband (for which he is unknowingly grateful). I simply propel the thing in the general direction of “away from me.” And while I’ve never really been proud of this type of behavior, I did feel it provided some sort of positive stress relief and since no one was hurt in the process, it could be deemed as harmless, and perhaps even beneficial. Then along came one-year old Seth and the sudden realization that his two little eyes were watching me, learning from me and that is when I realized I had to change. If throwing was unacceptable for Seth then why was it acceptable for me?
They have a name for people who make up rules that they themselves don’t follow- they’re called hypocrites. And the fact is, I don’t want my son to grow up thinking I am a hypocrite. Okay he’s four now so he doesn’t actually have a good working definition of that word but when he gets one I don’t want it to be associated with me.
So that was the first step to following the rules that I myself made up for my son. It hasn’t been so very hard, not throwing things. I try to do what I’ve taught my son to do – take a break from the situation, do something different, take three deep breaths, etc. And it seems to be working – for both of us. I can’t remember the last time either of us let something fly. And I couldn’t be more proud of us.
Friday, May 1, 2009
time in a bottle
Since my son's fourth birthday I've witnessed this amazing transformation. The things he says, his new found independence, everything astounds me. On one hand, I welcome it because it is all so charming and amazing and, I must admit, a whole lot less demanding. There are no late night feedings or diapers or tantrums or any of the other not-so-fun stuff that accompanies the three and under crowd. But now comes the sudden realization of just how fleeting all of this is - like trying to catch sand with your outstretched hand. You watch it filter through your fingers as it is being poured out. You can't hope to contain more than a few grains of it, so you're left to watch as the rest of it slips away and is forgotten. I realize that now as I watch my baby transform into a very wonderful little boy.
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