Safest Place

So, recently, as I was laying down baby Eva for a nap, I heard the suspicious sound of sticky giggles floating down the hall from the kitchen.

It suddenly occurred to me that after a breakfast of waffles, I had forgotten to put away the bottle of maple syrup. Crud muffins. After a quick effort to quietly run down the hall, managing mostly to sound like a sneaky elephant, my suspicions were quickly confirmed. Big puddle of maple syrupy goodness, with my delighted little toddler dipping her fingers into the sparkling amber lake and licking the sticky trickles off arms happily.

I did what every good mommy would do to keep from completely losing her cool. I grabbed the camera and made a happy, gooey movie.

(she’s saying…”I poured maple syrup on the floor, just for funsies!”)

I’ll be the first to admit that I wanted to say some choice words and react in anger, initially. It’s adorable to read about, and even charming to write about, but in the moment,I was mightily tempted to blow a fuse. Maple syrup is an expensive treat that we use sparingly, it’s a pain in the back end to clean up off the floor, and it was the third thing my 2.5 yo had dumped in the past few days. I wanted to grind my teeth and shout at her, and scare her to death, honestly.

As luck would have it, something she’d said earlier that day stopped me. She’d been watching a mild “bad guy” movie with us this weekend, and afterwards, while talking about it, she snuggled down on the couch and said contentedly:

“There are no bad guys in our house. Our home is a safe place. I love my home!”

That little statement really stuck with me. Home is a safe place. A simple observation that rings true on so many levels. A good home is safe for it’s occupants. A place where it’s OK to mess up, where it’s alright to cry, where a person can try their wings and crash and get up and try once more. There’s a marvelous shortage of bad guys who might tell you you’re not capable, tear you down, or hurt you spitefully.

In light of this, I’m making an effort to help our children take responsibility for their mistakes, and to also make home a safe place to learn that lesson. Correcting without shame is a learned skill for most humans, I think, but I’m in the midst of trying to learn how. If I can make a habit of gently correcting without sarcasm, shaming or intimidation, I think I’ll be thrilled to find that I’ve tapped into the heart of “home”.

Undoubtedly, it’s going to take some time to fully get there, but I do believe that eventually, one maple syrup success with follow another, and eventually, we’ll have a string of successes consistently following another like a pearl necklace. The language and tone of gentleness with start to feel less like marbles in my mouth, and I’ll learn to speak “good guy” quite fluently. Hopefully, as it becomes habit for mama and papa (well, especially mama…my spouse is already quite good at it), gentleness will be set as the default tone of the home. As a lovely ripple effect, I suspect that kindness and laughter will drizzle on down the ladder of authority like golden honey. Correction will become sweet, as rebukes are much more precious from the lips of a safe person.

It’s a super cool thing to be able to say, “My house is safe. There are no bad guys here.” I’m all for that. <3

Alrighty then. :shifty: I’ve been doing some digging, and I actually got some really decent advice from some non-parents who share dd’s personality type, by asking what they wished their folks had known about them. They provided some really helpful insight.

I pulled out my “Nurture by nature” book, and, as far as I can tell, in the Myers-Brigg personality theory , she’s an ENTP “The Innovator”. Obviously, this could evolve and change over time, and I don’t want to pigeon hole her, but, for practical purposes, this is amazingly accurate assessment and info. On this site , ENTP children are described by this quote:

ENTPs are lively children who question established truths and norms, dream and scheme, and develop unusual ways of doing traditional childhood things. The ENTP child is oriented toward doing the unique, which may mean taking risks and outwitting parental, school, and societal authority. They enjoy creating projects and following interests that are unusual and different.

ENTP children enjoy inventing new toys, dances, and languages. Because they are outgoing in their personality style, they often engage other children in their projects and assign them particular roles to play. ENTPs rarely accept things just as they are. They like to test or explore to see new meanings and relationships. When things do not go as they want, they use their ingenuity and cleverness to bring people and situations around to their point of view.

A few quotes from Nurture by Nature (Paul & Barbara Tieger) describe preschool ENTP children thusly:

ENTPs are also not as motivated to comply with orders simply because they are told to ir in order to please…adults. Even as small children, they have the courage to stabd up to adults and will challenge their parents whenever they see fit. Since youn ENTPs actually derive great energy from arguing, it is usually better for parents to decide on what their position is, [b]state the reasons behind their limits..clearly and logically[/b], and then stick to it.

(It goes on to suggest entering respectful bargaining, but only on strategically chosen points.)

Becoming gentle or nurturing is a learned skill for young ENTPs…As (they) begin to learn that feelings are the logical and natural effects of actions, they will better understand and even be able to predict what effect their behavior will have on others (pg 140)

Here are some (paraphrased) thoughts from adult ENTJs I’ve conversed with:

“I hated it when my parents tried to force me to be “nice” like everyone else. They always seemed convinced that I lacked something emotionally that others had, like I didn’t have a soul.”

“I wish they (parents) would have taken the time to explain things to me, rather than getting angry whenever I broke their rules. All I wanted was to know why.”

“I hate feeling that my opinion didn’t matter.”

“I felt demonized.”

Many have mentioned, even as adults, sadness for being rejected because they don’t follow rules for the sake of rules. /

Stepping back and thinking about it, in many ways, dd is a very, very reasonable little girl. If you take the time to explain things to her, 9/10, she’ll cooperate with you. It’s the taking time to explain WHY it’s not OK to do something to the length she’d like to take the conversation that gets me running screaming for the hills. (I’m more of an INFJ)

Dh shares some of her personality traits, and suggested this script for moments when I absolutely *can’t* take the time to explain: “You’re a very smart girl, and I think you’d understand most of my reason if I could tell you. Right now, I can’t do that, and I need you to trust that I want the best for you.” Very wise.

Someone else suggested identifying the source of their struggle (wanting to create something, needing to feel capable, needing independence, etc) and then helping work a solution together that speaks to that. Very gentle discipline. Rock On.

For an ENTP, that sort of empowering and confidence building might look like: DD takes my chapstick to create a robot. I point out that she’s taken it without asking, explain how that effects me, and involve HER in problem solving-what might be acceptable for robot material, and how to work to pay restitution for the chapstick.

Here’s a couple more quotes I found helpful from Nurture by Nature and You Can’t Make Me, But I can be Persuaded (Cynthia Tobias):

Real and lasting self-esteem for ENTPs comes from seeing themselves as the creative, competent, and resourceful people they are. (Nurture by Nature, pg 148)

Standing firmly behind ENTPs in all their high energy and flamboyance communicates a lasting appreciation for the bright and fresh originals they are.

SWC’s (strong willed children) would rather have a compelling problem to solve than just a list of chores to do. Try soliciting my input regarding the chores. (Cynthia Tobias, “You Can’t Make Me”, pg 50)

The more I hear from these personality types, the more I realize that, mostly, they want to be treated with respect. Not just non- punitive (though many of them have pointed out to me that corporal punishment was an especially embittering violation of their person ), but actually valued for their ideas and capabilities. If a parent of a willful, creative thinker has even a *shred* of the “I’m the parent and you will follow me blindly because you’re a mere CHILD” paradigm in their thinking, they’re going to attack the problem from a totally wrong angle and make life a living hell for both themselves and the child, and likely destroy lifelong relationship in the process.

I think, for me the biggest obstacles to overcome have been (and continue to be):

-Defeating my own “children should be subservient” background, and combating that attitude from others for my child.

May post more later…those are my general thoughts for now.

We Love to Talk…

with each other. I have to say, with this being baby #3, I’ve been amazed at how much I understand what she’s “saying” to me. After the crazy struggles we went through with our first HN babe, I totally credit AP (and it’s older child counterpart, gentle discipline) with my growth as a parent. I easily can tell what she needs 98% of the time…which I find very cool. (Not just “chocolate covered peanuts” cool, but happy-tears cool.)

Connection certainly wasn’t a perfect science when we first started out, but you know what they say about practice. Babies take effort and getting to know, just like every other person in the world. I’m not the perfect mother by any stretch…I think I’m just a normal mama who was lucky enough to have been made aware that babies really are miniature little people with capabilities and very real emotional needs.

It astounds me how many of her cues I’d likely not even be aware of if she’d been left to cry until she falls asleep repeatedly, or if I let her reach fever pitch before responding to her every time (the way I used to think babies should be raised). She *tells* me things with her face…nuances and body language and tone of voice. She mimics my faces, and I mirror hers. She gets excited and pumps her legs and grins when I ask her, “Hungry?” I’m so thrilled to not have missed it.

anyway…I found this photo sequence of a conversation of ours hilarious, and thought I’d share the giggles. Excuse the just rolled out of bed look. ;P

Missing the Boat

One of the biggest pitfalls of being a researcher and “activist” seems (to me) to be getting so caught up in the excitement of learning all one can about a subject, and never realizing the knowledge in real life. My own life is no exception. I’ll admit, to my chagrin, that I adore theorizing and discussing and grappling with a beloved idea to the nth degree while completely ignoring it’s application in my own life.

I’ll believe a concept in theory, I’ll even be wildly passionate about it, but because of my personality type (INFJ), I tend to dwell in my head a lot. The knowledge and wisdom and passion I have for a subject sometimes never translates well to my actual life. It’s an embarrassing Achilles heel to have, especially for someone who enjoys knowing a concept inside out. Similar to the “the cobbler’s children have no shoes” phenomenon. I loathe it about myself, and try my hardest to stomp it out whenever I recognize it, but I’ve come to realize that personality weaknesses are generally lifelong chores that need constant attention. I’ll always have to question myself: how are my ideals lining up with my life?

Just one example: trying to live gracefully towards my husband and children, and not cultivating adversarial relationships within my family. I can talk about it ALL day long, know why it’s imperative, even brainstorm practical ideas and applications, but, at the end of the day, if I’m approaching my family in a way that says, “You’d better do what I say, or else!”, I’ve completely dropped the ball and missed the point of all my “study”. Until I can lay down my scholar cap and take up the towel of a servant leader, all those wonderful thoughts are rubbish.

Sometimes, it’s painful to step back and view yourself realistically with the measure you treasure and find yourself woefully short of the mark. It’s so easy to have a good handle on the letter of the law, and totally miss it’s heart in your own life.

(I’ve often wondered if the apostle Paul struggled with that in his own life: he had an amazing mind as a teacher and scholar, and yet he obviously struggled in his relationships and with having patience for certain people. It’s interesting to consider that his own experience and struggle with theory vs. real life may have sparked him to write, “If I speak in the tongues of men and of angels, but have not love, I am only a resounding gong or a clanging cymbal. If I have the gift of prophecy and can fathom all mysteries and all knowledge, and if I have a faith that can move mountains, but have not love, I am nothing.”)

So, the pruning begins. Sometimes it means the painful removal of things that aren’t “evil” at all, per se, but rather things that distract and clutter my life and keep me from having room to put my own feet to the fire. It’s tricky for a theory loving introvert to hop out of her own head and allow the grace that her head loves to permeate and saturate her life in every way. It sweeps me out of my element, and off my feet. It forces vulnerability and failure and humility that I’d rather shy away from. The journey from book wisdom to heart wisdom is dangerous and breathtakingly exhausting. It invites opportunity to be exposed, to laugh with those around me, and to dispel my safe belief that knowledge alone fortifies and sustains.

And that’s a very beautiful thing.

Cooking up New Year’s Resolutions

I hardly qualify as being traditionally Jewish, or even for Messianic Judaism, just as a disclaimer. I’m just starting to learn a little about Jewish traditions, and I have to admit I’ve been completely fascinated at the richness they have to offer. I’ve enjoyed tentatively dipping my fingers into the thick, sweet and beautiful tradition of Rosh Hashanah.

So, at the beginning of the holiday, I got in the spirit and decided to make my New Year’s Resolutions then, and bake some challah bread with the girls (which I later learned should have been round to symbolize eternal life. That’s what I get for being a dabbler, and admittedly not much of a baker.)

As I have a GREAT many faults I’d like to leave behind, I was having a tough time deciding which resolutions I’d like to ask God to help me keep. All this while helping the girls make (non round, fairly lumpy) challah bread.

I was explaining to Essie the concept of resolutions and peppering the conversation with, “No!!! Don’t touch that. Don’t do that! Be careful! Will you need to leave the kitchen?” and fretting over the state of my counters and floor. I yammered on about blessings and forgiveness, and grimaced whilst picking stray blobs of goop from hair and scrubbed tile. In a moment of recognizing the painfully obvious, I realized my resolution this year will be developing patience. I said as much to Esther, who heartily agreed, and went on to say her resolution was to acquire a new bicycle.

Before anyone says, “Be careful praying for patience!!”, I’ll go ahead and reassure you I’m not lacking in opportunity to develop it. I’ve plenty of that.

I need to work on letting others mess up and be messy and learn. To not freak out and roll my eyes and feel held back when others are learning to do tricky things for the first time. To realize that perfection, when it prevents progress, is not always a healthy thing. To find joy in the process, and see the growing order in disorder.

In the deep places of my heart, I earnestly want to overlook small errors that can be corrected gently over years, and praise the effort of the moment. To not always be bullheaded and worrisome and push the little things that trouble me on others in their moments of triumph. To realize knowledge doesn’t always equal the right to instruct right away. It’s a desire only my Lord could have put in the heart of this control freak.

Plants need room to grow. People need even more. Nothing will fall apart if I don’t keep super tight tabs on every blasted little detail. As the proverb goes, “The sun will set today without your assistance”. Sometimes, those around me simply need me to laugh with them and rejoice in their little victories, in the same way I’d like others to rejoice in my smallest efforts.

With my children, I’m praying for the ability to seize their teachable moments, but also recognize and delight in the moments when their hearts are wide open for encouragement and taking pleasure in life.

To laugh and enjoy lumpy Challah bread, and see the good heart in love expressed imperfectly.

Blessed are you, Lord, our God, sovereign of the universe who has kept us alive, sustained us, and enabled us to reach this season.

May it be Your will, Lord our God and God of our ancestors that you renew for us a good and sweet year.

My Jack and Jill

I’ve always despised violent nursery rhymes for small children. Humpty Dumpty falls down and irreparably breaks into pieces, everyone falls down from the plague at the end of “Ring around the Rosies”, London Bridge is destroyed, Mary Contrary’s garden is filled with torture devices, Jack and Jill break their heads while falling down the hill…gruesome stuff. It used to make me shiver with protective indignation. Such stuff seemed wildly inappropriate for such innocent little people.

Then, my children became old enough for me to realize that there are some annoying traditions I cannot protect them from. Trying to keep them from absorbing those crazy poems (which mostly originated as political statements) is like trying to keep candy a secret from them. :OP They catch things from our culture that I wish I could simply disappear by waving my magic mommy hands and Avada Kadavra! But, in reality, it’s simply not possible, much to my annoyance.

Anyhow, I’ve found that most of the creepiness goes right over the head of a child under, say 4, and once that age is reached, they get a chance to process their newly found understanding of permanent damage and death in form of a silly game or rhyme. It’s not all terrible. If they don’t have gory songs to sing already, they’ll make up songs and stories themselves.

Case in point: Esther tells us a bedtime story right before bed…

“Once upon a time, there was a team with a mascot. They were (thinking hard with nose wrinkled) the Northeast Bears. Yes. They were bears that lived in the Northeast. They EAT people who live in the Northeast. All the northeast people were dead. The people got scared and SHOT the Northeast bears. Then, they were dead. And the team didn’t have a mascot. The end.”

I suggested the “Northeast Goldfish”, and Essie agreed that fish were a better idea. “They just swim in a fishbowl all day, doing nothing but swimming. Goldfish don’t eat people.”

Suddenly, Humpty Dumpty seems tame.

And, true to form, she generally finds a way to redeem the characters in her fantasies. She’s the eternal relational optimist, and loves to bring peace and solutions to tricky situations, as a way of bringing peaceful, safe feelings to her own mind about the subject. I love it about her. I love it about that age. She’ll have years to grapple with the realities of life, but in this moment, she embraces fantasy, the magical and the terrible.

She explores the fantastic with gusto and ease, and fleshes out every possibility, from extraordinary peace to dismemberment, without a bat of an eye. It’s constant. A character might die and be resurrected five times within a day, and she uses her magic words to change their fate, which is as capricious as a fairy tale.

Yesterday: “This is my little brother Jack (pssst! Mom! It’s REALLY just N’omi, don’t worry!) and I’m the sister Jill. But we don’t ONLY go up the hill to fetch pails of water. Sometimes, we feed BEARS, too. They’re not scary. They’re sick. We put them into bed, and feed them soup. We make them scarves. See? They live in shoes. They hibernate there and eat fried corn. They’re friendly bears.”

And, in Essie’s world of bright eyed wonder, everyone gets to live happily ever after. Or not.

Words are Magic

There are so many things in my almost 4yo’s day that seem disconnected, but stem from the same basic developmental behavior. It’s so interesting and earthshaking for me when I finally have that, “Aha!” moment that gives me insight into her behavior and how she’s processing the world…and connects all the things that have me mystified with a common, very practical thread. These are the moments I long for as a parent, because they make sense of SO many seemingly crazy behaviors in my preschooler.

She falls apart completely, because her 2yo sister tells her she can’t eat any dinner. She insists that flowers can regrow after they die if you put them in water, because her little friend said so, and cries for an hour when it doesn’t happen. She looks at me in astonishment when she tells me something will happen, and I say “No”. She insists she didn’t do something I know very well she actually did.

Words are MAGIC to her. To Esther, if you say something out loud, it HAS to happen, because words make it so. Sometimes, she catches nuance or joking, but the vast majority of the time, saying something makes it absolutely true…in fact, it can even reverse what’s already actually happened!

It’s making for interesting conversation, and also a really fun time to allow her to explore her imagination, and process and teach through fantasy. ) More, later, maybe…our 2yo is teething and fussy..

Here’s an excellent article by a friend of mine on the subject. )

Three Year Olds and Schedules

My 3yo is a classic textbook high energy kiddo.

Since she turned 3, Nate and I have been running around after her non-stop. Lots of dumping, lots of messes, lots of smearing and stirring and mixing of things that shouldn’t be smeared or stirred or mixed.

I finally had an “aha!” moment one day when I walked into the kitchen and saw she’d poured an entire carton of rice milk into a half-empty jar of peanut butter, and was dutifully sprinkling the soggy mess with a bottle of oregano. I asked in exasperation (after muffling a big blue streak), “WHY would you DO that??” She answered proudly, “I’m sorry you’re mad. I’m making a recipe just like YOU, mommy!! It’s tasty!”

My anger melted as I watched her bravely wince and ladle to stuff into her little mouth, grunting in forced satisfaction.

Snorking down a secret giggle, I seriously sat her down and we had a talk about respecting things, how she wanted to do things for herself, and how we could do both at the same time.

The solution was that she would be allowed in the kitchen and could have access to the fridge, as long as she only took food from a special shelf designated for only Esther. She wanted a box with dinosaurs with snacks in it on the shelf. I went out the next day and got supplies to make the box, which ended up being decorated with dragons and knights after a failed search for dino stickers.

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In addition, that evening, I took a blow to my free-spirited side (as well as my adult-oriented nature) and made out a schedule for our weekdays. (A big “Thank You” to my friend Allison for prodding me in that direction )

So far, it’s working out well, and I’m staying a few steps ahead of her fairly easily! Whoot!! D

I’m trying to plan out “outside” time (at least 2 hours of it) every day, along with a general theme for the week that goes along with the season of the year. This week, it’s harvest time and apples.

Our schedule is completely subject to Ess and Nooms’ natural rhythms, more a general order of planned things rather than a rigid itinerary. A few things, like lunch and naptime are non-negotiable and sacred. No trips or projects or stimulating things during sleepy time of day, lol, or disaster will surely follow.

(Soapbox of the Day: I, btw, completely take issue with the notion that parents who attribute “bad” behavior to sleepiness or hunger or illness are simply making excuses for sinfulness, and that recognizing rough times of the day will set them up to be “wild” adults. I don’t know anyone who acts nicely when overly-tired. I agree that parents should teach children self-control for times when they feel badly…I just believe that doing so means teaching them to take good care of themselves and getting the needs for sleep and food met ASAP, if possible! Jesus slept when he was sleepy and ate when He was hungry- I can’t expect more than that from my kids! )

I found a lot of fun Waldorf-inspired hands on activities and nature themed verses to go along with our work and play. I love the playful teaching and structure it adds…

So far, so good! She’s like a wild rose with a trellis to climb now, and we’re all pleased with the result: the family’s things are treated with respect, and so is she!

Potty Learning..finally getting there!

E has been working hard at learning how to use the potty!

We worked out a deal that whenever she uses the potty successfully, she gets a gummi bear. Since #2 is trickier for her, she gets 2 bears for a #2, and 1 bear for #1.

Soooo, this week she’s had several successful outings and dry nights with no accidents! Whoohoo, Essie! We’re really excited for her.

This afternoon, she said, “Oh, I have a potty feeling!!” and ran to the bathroom, with me following behind her describing the process out loud like a commentator: “Essie felt the potty feeling, stopped her playing, and ran to the bathroom! She’s working really hard at it! Look, she put her pees and poop in the potty!” She’s very, very proud of herself.

So, when she was done, I held out two gummi bears. She looks at me with deep seriousness and informs me, “Mommy, I get two bears for pooping, and one for peeing. I need another one.”

Can’t pull the wool over her eyes, hehe.

"No!!"

I was just watching a video of the first time E. said, “nooooo”. She did it with a smile, and it sounded like “newwww”. She was cute as a button. Her eyes twinkled at the wonder of saying a new word. She rolled it around her mouth over and over, seeing if she cared for the feel of it, and finally decided she did.

Over the months, it evolved into a forceful, meaningful “NO!”. I was distraught, I felt insulted, and more than a little bit defensive. I tensed all over and dug in my heals. She did the same. I tried to look stern to show her I meant business. So did she. I swatted her to show her I was in control. She swatted me back. I said, “No hitting me!!” She said, “No hit Essie!” I finally noticed that my daughter was the perfect mirror image of me. That really made an impression on me. She was observing my behavior, and mimicking me…she was learning from me, and what she was learning wasn’t great. I needed to step back and reevaluate

Why was she doing what she was doing? I had been looking at her as a tyrant, like she thought she had all the power. In reality, she was feeling the will that God gave her developing. She felt powerless, and wondered if she could use her will. It totally changed the way I viewed my daughter.

I’ve had to learn to adore her “no” as much as I adore her “yes”.

She’s nearing the age when she’s learning how respect other’s boundaries (your “no”) and trying to figure out how to set her own (her “no”). It’s really a VERY important life skill that she’s developing right now. She’ll need the ability to have a firm “no” and let others know it’s non-negotiable. She’ll need in in friendships, marriage, parenthood, and in the workplace. It’s her way of keeping bad things out, and protecting the good things that God has graced her heart with. It’s still immature, but her ability to say “no” is a precious God-given tool for protecting her own spirit and resources He’s given her.

That doesn’t mean letting her rule the house. (I’m no pushover. ) She’s also learning the respect other people’s boundaries, which is just as important. But when she says no, I’ve really tried hard not to view her as being rebellious or questioning your authority. She’s truly trying to figure out if she has the ability to set boundaries, too. We can encourage her by loving her sloppy attempts at setting boundaries just as much as we love her charming moments. We can be firm with our boundaries and teach her how to cherish others.

When possible, on the things that are negotiable, she needs the ability to chose. If she doesn’t want to hug and would rather play, (“no hug, I get down and play!!”) I let her down. If she doesn’t want her hair touched (“NO touch my hair!”) I respect her physical boundaries and stop. During the times when she lacks the judgement to set good boundaries and rules for herself (bedtime, etc) or fails to recognize the boundaries I set (house rules, hurting others, etc), I step in and reinforce good choices for her.

A 2yo’s world of boundaries are very like jello that hasn’t solidified yet. She’s trying to figure out where the lines are drawn, how to respect them, who can draw the lines, and whether her lines will be respected, too. It’s messy. It takes testing every one of them over and over, and trying to draw her own rudimentary ones over and over. Eventually, it starts to solidify, and she walks out with the feeling of “I can draw lines! I can recognize other people’s line, too!” It’s so fun to watch her try to communicate her own needs, and telling other’s “I’m sorry” when she realizes she’s strayed too far over someone else’s.

It’s a unique season. It’s an interesting dance that requires patience, sensitivity, and a whole lot of work. But I’m really loving seeing her learn how to think for herself, and to respect other’s as well. Watching a little one grow up is such a privilege…how humbling to watch the formation of a person. Wow.