Mama-baby bath
Two bodies joined by water
Still so connected
Sunday, April 24, 2011
Tuesday, April 19, 2011
Scam-o-rama
When I first posted about baking bread, someone asked me if it was cheaper than buying it. It most definitely is, I replied, especially because I am making an organic, artisan loaf for less than a non-organic one. But how much cheaper? I decided to try to cost it out so I could share.
I have been buying my organic flour at the local grocery store, a large chain that has a big bulk section.
When I was on my way out of the store, I checked the receipt. I had bought just about 2kg of bulk flour. The price? $14.63! What!! I looked again, but there was definitely a 1 in front of that 4. I had both kids with me and we were all at our best before date, so I wasn't up to going in then to tell them they must have put in the wrong code. I figured I'd save the receipt and let them know next time, and get my money back. When I got home and told Sean, he agreed that there must have been a mistake on the pricing. Flour is not that expensive, even organic.
But when I returned for my shopping the following week, guess what? No mistake. The flour costs $0.79 per 100 grams. That .79 looks like a small number but if you do the math, you are paying $7.90 for ONE kilo of flour (about $3.00 a loaf!!). Just two aisles over in the same store, you can get a prepackaged 2kg bag for $6.99--more than 100% cheaper (so, now just over $1.00 a loaf). And at the local, family owned health food store, 2kg costs only $4.94 (about $0.80 a loaf).
I'm pretty frugal, so I'm a bit ashamed that I never did this math before. But seriously, don't we all assume that bulk is always the cheapest option? I mean, we have to go scoop the stuff into a bag ourselves and then put the little tag on it, and transfer it to another container at home. Shouldn't that come with a discount? So I thought I'd share this experience so that everyone can be reminded to do the math and not get taken by this scam. Because that's what it is.
And speaking of scams, here's another one that I just got taken by. On our weekend away, we drove up to Whistler. Rather than take two cars, I parked in the Horseshoe Bay Ferry terminal long term parking. One of the friends I was with had to take the ferry home, so that way she could drop us off there easily and we could carpool. As my girlfriends transferred babies and car seats and bags to the minivan, I tried to figure out how to buy 30 hours of parking from the machine. 24 hours cost $19. 12 hours was $12, 6 hours was something like $8, and so on. But I could only put in one time choice (24, 12, 6, etc) and it spit out one ticket, starting right then. So if I bought 24 hours and 6 hours, that would start at the same time.
Finally I saw that you could extend your time by phone. Great. So I bought 24 hours and asked my girlfriends to remind me to extend my time. Only we ended up back there just 24 hours later anyway so there was no need. But when I got into my car, what was that under my wiper? A ticket! For $60!!! Why? Because, as it turns out, no matter how many hours you buy, your time will expire at 12 midnight. Even if I came there at 11pm and bought 24 hours, my parking would expire one hour later.
Scam? You bet. OK, again, I admit I didn't read the small print. It does say on the receipt that all time expires at midnight. But I was too busy learning how to buy time in the first place to notice, and then...who assumes that when they pay for $19 for 24 hours that means "24 hours, or midnight tonight, whatever comes first."
So all you who may be parking at Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal in the long term lot or buying bulk, be warned. Do the math, read the small print. And yes, bread is way cheaper if you make it yourself, if you buy the fairly priced flour. And it's good I saved that money, so I can pay for my parking ticket.
I have been buying my organic flour at the local grocery store, a large chain that has a big bulk section.
When I was on my way out of the store, I checked the receipt. I had bought just about 2kg of bulk flour. The price? $14.63! What!! I looked again, but there was definitely a 1 in front of that 4. I had both kids with me and we were all at our best before date, so I wasn't up to going in then to tell them they must have put in the wrong code. I figured I'd save the receipt and let them know next time, and get my money back. When I got home and told Sean, he agreed that there must have been a mistake on the pricing. Flour is not that expensive, even organic.
But when I returned for my shopping the following week, guess what? No mistake. The flour costs $0.79 per 100 grams. That .79 looks like a small number but if you do the math, you are paying $7.90 for ONE kilo of flour (about $3.00 a loaf!!). Just two aisles over in the same store, you can get a prepackaged 2kg bag for $6.99--more than 100% cheaper (so, now just over $1.00 a loaf). And at the local, family owned health food store, 2kg costs only $4.94 (about $0.80 a loaf).
I'm pretty frugal, so I'm a bit ashamed that I never did this math before. But seriously, don't we all assume that bulk is always the cheapest option? I mean, we have to go scoop the stuff into a bag ourselves and then put the little tag on it, and transfer it to another container at home. Shouldn't that come with a discount? So I thought I'd share this experience so that everyone can be reminded to do the math and not get taken by this scam. Because that's what it is.
And speaking of scams, here's another one that I just got taken by. On our weekend away, we drove up to Whistler. Rather than take two cars, I parked in the Horseshoe Bay Ferry terminal long term parking. One of the friends I was with had to take the ferry home, so that way she could drop us off there easily and we could carpool. As my girlfriends transferred babies and car seats and bags to the minivan, I tried to figure out how to buy 30 hours of parking from the machine. 24 hours cost $19. 12 hours was $12, 6 hours was something like $8, and so on. But I could only put in one time choice (24, 12, 6, etc) and it spit out one ticket, starting right then. So if I bought 24 hours and 6 hours, that would start at the same time.
Finally I saw that you could extend your time by phone. Great. So I bought 24 hours and asked my girlfriends to remind me to extend my time. Only we ended up back there just 24 hours later anyway so there was no need. But when I got into my car, what was that under my wiper? A ticket! For $60!!! Why? Because, as it turns out, no matter how many hours you buy, your time will expire at 12 midnight. Even if I came there at 11pm and bought 24 hours, my parking would expire one hour later.
Scam? You bet. OK, again, I admit I didn't read the small print. It does say on the receipt that all time expires at midnight. But I was too busy learning how to buy time in the first place to notice, and then...who assumes that when they pay for $19 for 24 hours that means "24 hours, or midnight tonight, whatever comes first."
So all you who may be parking at Horseshoe Bay ferry terminal in the long term lot or buying bulk, be warned. Do the math, read the small print. And yes, bread is way cheaper if you make it yourself, if you buy the fairly priced flour. And it's good I saved that money, so I can pay for my parking ticket.
Sunday, April 17, 2011
His Sweet Side
(My title is borrowed from this awesome track by Lucinda Williams, Sweet Side. Check it out.)
Another change that comes with parenting a "kid" rather than a toddler or baby: public perception. Up until recently, when I took Boodge out, he must've felt like a celebrity. Especially in our old neighborhood which was full of elders, people would stop to smile at him and talk about how cute, charming, hilarious, and smart he was. In the local bakery and at the organic grocery, the clerks regularly gave me free stuff for him. He was that good. I'm not trying to brag, I'm sure it happens to lots of moms because people love happy, lively babies and toddlers, which Boodge was. Strangers want to hold them, smell them, and make ridiculous faces to get that gap tooth, drooly smile or giggle directed their way.
But lately I've sometimes noticed a totally different kind of response to him from strangers. More of a "Get that annoying kid under control." kind of response. Or "Whew, wild, loud child energy. Too much for me, thanks." There was the "other mother" at the playground who clearly saw my son as a rude ruffian who had mishandled her little girl. Then there was the clerk at the department store who became more and more tense as Boodge's Dad and I explained for the third time that he couldn't put his sticky hands on her glass display cases. Often people comment on how he "never stops going" and I can tell they don't find that as adorable as when he was a little 20-month old buzzing around the living room in a diaper, pot belly, and bald head. I'm here to tell you, people, that look is only cute for a very short window of one's life.
It's OK, I get it. Not everyone is going to find my kid as winsome as I do. They don't see him at his best like I do, the sweet boy singing a "Clean the bags, clean the bags" song and strumming his "guitar-o-scope" (which is really the ladder from his fire truck) to entertain me while I wash out ziplock bags. The nice guy who offers, "I'll share it with you," and gives half his candy worm to his Dad. The helper getting me rags to clean his sister's puke off of my pants. They don't see him diligently working at assembling my seedling-table, using the ratchet for an hour to get all the bolts on. They don't get to watch him sleeping.
 |
| See, there's his sweet side. |
 |
| He's a real Mr. Fix-it. |
It makes me a little sad that his sweet side is not as clear to others as it used to be. I liked it when strangers shared my pure joy in my child. And I liked that he got to feel positivity and acceptance from everyone, that he was treated like someone special. Of course, getting feedback from others about how he affects them is going to be part of his social learning, which is so important right now. But I wonder sometimes how he makes sense of the different kind of attention he's getting, especially since his sister is now in the uber-cute role, getting cooed at by strangers (though, no free stuff yet--step it up, Peanut!).
 |
| C'mon bakery lady. Just one cinnamon bun, please. For Mama's milk. |
 |
| Is this a face only a mother can love? |
A while later, I told him, "Boodge, we're gonna cut your hair this week. We're going to put on a video and I can cut it while you watch."
"I want a video now," he replied. "I want to cut my hair and watch a video now." Sean and exchanged a look.
"Ok, awesome, me too. Let's do it."
And five minutes later, he looked at himself in the mirror, smiled, and declared, "I look beautiful!"
It was time. I'm glad I did it. I like not having to pull his hair off where it's stuck to the food on his cheeks. I like running my fingers through his little locks. He looks a more like the sweet little boy that he is and a little less like the wild child he can also be. And of course, I'm not oblivious to the way it all happened in a nice symbolic way (hey, I write and I like Jung--obviously I'm into symbolism), where I finally leave my baby boy and come back to cut his baby locks off. We are shifting ourselves, Boodge and I, into Mother and Child instead of Mother and Babe. And it's beautiful, just like he said.
 |
| Ta Daaaaah! |
Wednesday, April 13, 2011
Staying, and Listening.
In my last post I promised I'd share my experience trying to apply the "staylistening" technique Patty Wipfler described for dealing with childrens' intense emotions (aka, meltdowns and tantrums). I want to preface this post by saying, Boodge and I seem to have moved past the rough spot we were in. He's turned a corner--he is crying less, cooperating much more, and paying some real loving attention to his little sister. When I see him seeking attention by bugging me, I am aware and responding much better. I'm really happy for my little guy--he seems more confident and a little more ready to accept the role of big boy and big brother.
I've never been one to strictly follow any kind of "program" or philosophy. Religions clubs, sleep training systems--whatever. I like to borrow liberally from those things, but I don't like feeling like I have to do X because I belong to a certain group, or because of a label I have given myself. Wipfler definitely has an approach, based in some assumptions. Reading her stuff, I sometimes thought, "Yeah, well...this sounds great on paper but not so possible in a lot of circumstances." She does acknowledge that parents need a lot of support to parent to her ideals. She also has names for things that already exist, like "staylistening" for staying and listening, and "Listening Partner" for a person who listens to the parent (she recommends formally setting up a listening partnership with a friend), which irked me a little. But that's just me. Her ideas are good, and they fit for me. And I think she made up the names because she wanted to emphasize a certain kind of listening. In counselling world, our name for it is "accurate empathy".
When Boodge melts down, I always have stayed, and listened. I don't believe in isolating him or ignoring him when he is upset. But often I haven't been very empathetic. I've gotten caught up in my own emotions about his meltdown; anger, impatience, guilt, sadness, defensiveness. I say all kinds of unhelpful thing that only suppress his emotions ("That's enough!" "It's not that big a deal!") "Staylistening," to me, meant a willingness to really listen, without judgment. And to really try to see from his eyes and understand what his crying meant for him. There is nothing else I have to do than that during a meltdown. I don't have to try to make him feel better. Just listen for as long as it takes. And in trying to understand, I can also help Boodge learn to understand and articulate his feelings.
Wipfler helped me recognize Boodge's tears as a necessary part of his growth. It's funny--right now Peanut is going through her own period of tears and edginess, and I recognize that it is because she is poised to grow herself; she is working hard on forward movement. It's so easy to support, console, and encourage a baby and recognize the natural process of maturation in her. But it was harder for me to see that Boodge's behavior, too, stemmed from a need to get out all his own frustrated and sad feelings as he struggled to move forward.
So after an evening of reading Wipfler, I woke up I was eager to "staylisten". Soften a little, encourage Boodge to let out all his emotions, give him my loving arms and attention. Every morning we nurse when he wakes up, and often not for as long as he wants. That morning, I told him he was done and predictably, he started to cry and ask for more. Usually, I get a bit short with him, saying something like, "When we're done, we're done, I don't want any crying." And more lecturing follows as he cries more. That day, I just said, "Aw, I know, you want more and you can't. That's hard." He stopped crying and looked and me and said, "Mama, can I cry?"
"Sure you can cry, sweetie." I said kindly. He resumed crying for about 30 seconds, then was fine. We cuddled and snuggled and played until his sister woke up. It was awesome! What a way to turn a bad scene around! I was instantly hooked on "staylistening".
After his nap, we used to nurse too but lately he doesn't always ask and I certainly don't offer. This time, he asked, and I really didn't feel like it. I told him no, but I'd love to cuddle him instead. He started crying again, "I really really want boooooo!!" I just empathized with him. "You really want it. I know. It's so hard for you to not have Boo. You're sad." After a while his sister woke up so I brought him crying into her room and then brought us all into the playroom, where he continued sobbing. About everything. "I don't want to wash my hair!" (I hadn't mentioned this at all, but he hates washing his hair so I guess it was pent up in there).
Then it became about his sister. They were both on my lap and she was sweetly trying to reach for her sobbing brother. "I don't want Peanut to touch me!"
I just validated what he was feeling and set limits, trying to bring out his feelings rather than shut them down. I was thinking of Neufeld's concept of a "wall of futility", and his advice that parents who try to make things "work out" for their kids just delay them from having the tears they need to have.
"I can't move Peanut's hand because both my hands are busy holding you guys. You can gently move her hand if you want."
"I want you to do it!"
"I can't."
"I don't want her on your lap!"
"I know. It's hard for you to share your mommy, isn't it? But I have room on my lap for both of you. I am right here with you, listening to you and taking care of you. And I love more and more every day, even though I love your sister and have to give her attention too."
"I want all the attention!!" he cried.
"I know, I'm sure you do." I replied. "It is so hard to have to share your Mommy now. But you are doing a great job. I'm so proud of you."
Eventually, the meltdown ended and Boodge was bouncy and happy again. He did seem cleared out, lighter. He was playing on his own without demanding all my attention. I enthusiastically related what had been going on to my husband when he came up for lunch. He listened as I described Wipfler's ideas. "It makes sense, I get it. But I'm also wondering if they present any proof that this turns out better kids?"
"Well, you have to clarify what you mean by 'better kid'?" I replied. But he was not trying to burst my bubble. He was just making a point, that in parenting it is almost impossible to know doing x will lead to y. There are no formulas that can handle so many variables. But I'm not parenting expecting that I have control over the final "product" of my child. I am focusing on what will create a better relationship for Boodge and I, not a "better" kid.
The day went on. Around three there was another meltdown, this one over my refusal to give him a shot glass full of honey/let him watch his show NOW. Oh, and the hair washing again. I listened. But honestly, it wasn't as "meaty" as the first and second ones. Still, he released some tears, and we moved on. Later, I did notice a couple of things. He spontaneously told me how he loved me all the way to the tippy top of the ceiling and back (sigh! he doesn't do that often) and also how he loved his sister all the way to the mountains. And he wasn't doing any of his attention seeking things. In fact, he was just buzzing around, singing and talking to himself, playing without need for me.
Then it was pre-dinner and I was trying to get it all ready. Another meltdown started. "Honey in a glass! Cheese!" No, I said, it's almost dinnertime. Tears and repeated demands for honey and cheese. Foot stomping. I held him and consoled him while he cried. I made empathic statements.
Then it started to feel like these were what my mom used to call "crocodile tears". Was he milking it? Was this "staylistening" technique backfiring, so that now he was enjoying getting my full attention through tears? I mean, c'mon, three meltdowns in a day is unusual. Was giving him loving attention a reward for tears, making him cry more? Or was he just releasing all his pent up feelings now that I was being nicer?
"Boodge," I said, "if you're really sad, I don't mind listening. But it's not OK to make it up just for my attention." He looked at me with bewilderment. Obviously too complex for him to understand. I told him I needed a break, and went to the living room.
"Shit," I said to my husband, who was quietly staying out of it. "this whole parenting thing is so confusing. This morning I was so convinced but now I'm totally not sure this is the right approach. What the hell? It feels like he's going to have more meltdowns just to get attention!" Sean smiled sympathetically, shrugging. I went back in to Boodge. He asked for honey in a glass again.
"Look Boodge," I said, picking him up. "Dinner is almost ready. We're having yummy chicken fingers. I'm not going to give you cheese or honey in a glass right now."
He burst into fresh sobs. "I want dinner now!! I'm so hungry! I'm hungry!" he sobbed. Sean called in from the living room, "I'm sure he is, it's almost 7." I did a mental list of what he had eaten in our busy afternoon or crying and buzzing around. Very little. A few bites here and there.
At dinner he wolfed down five chicken fingers. He didn't even wait for them to cool down. I've never seen him do that, usually dinner involves coaxing and convincing. He was hungry. It wasn't some deep emotional issue, some grief he needed to release, or any attention seeking. He was hungry. I guess that's what happens when you have a counsellor for a mom. Poor Boodge.
What's the moral of this story? Wipfler is not wrong at all. I have been "staylistening" for a couple of weeks now, and it's part of my toolbox now. I do think it helps Boodge release his emotions and move on. When his tears are about something emotional. But I was so focused on applying X ("staylistening") technique to Y (crying) behavior that I missed out on the other variables. Crying is not always about emotions. In kids, it is also about hunger, fatigue, illness, and a myriad of other things. So it really is about good old fashioned "listening" to figure out what is behind the tears and what response is best. The moral of the story, for me, is that you can't parent using a set of instructions. I can't, anyway. But it doesn't hurt to consult the gazillion manuals out there from time to time.
I've never been one to strictly follow any kind of "program" or philosophy. Religions clubs, sleep training systems--whatever. I like to borrow liberally from those things, but I don't like feeling like I have to do X because I belong to a certain group, or because of a label I have given myself. Wipfler definitely has an approach, based in some assumptions. Reading her stuff, I sometimes thought, "Yeah, well...this sounds great on paper but not so possible in a lot of circumstances." She does acknowledge that parents need a lot of support to parent to her ideals. She also has names for things that already exist, like "staylistening" for staying and listening, and "Listening Partner" for a person who listens to the parent (she recommends formally setting up a listening partnership with a friend), which irked me a little. But that's just me. Her ideas are good, and they fit for me. And I think she made up the names because she wanted to emphasize a certain kind of listening. In counselling world, our name for it is "accurate empathy".
When Boodge melts down, I always have stayed, and listened. I don't believe in isolating him or ignoring him when he is upset. But often I haven't been very empathetic. I've gotten caught up in my own emotions about his meltdown; anger, impatience, guilt, sadness, defensiveness. I say all kinds of unhelpful thing that only suppress his emotions ("That's enough!" "It's not that big a deal!") "Staylistening," to me, meant a willingness to really listen, without judgment. And to really try to see from his eyes and understand what his crying meant for him. There is nothing else I have to do than that during a meltdown. I don't have to try to make him feel better. Just listen for as long as it takes. And in trying to understand, I can also help Boodge learn to understand and articulate his feelings.
Wipfler helped me recognize Boodge's tears as a necessary part of his growth. It's funny--right now Peanut is going through her own period of tears and edginess, and I recognize that it is because she is poised to grow herself; she is working hard on forward movement. It's so easy to support, console, and encourage a baby and recognize the natural process of maturation in her. But it was harder for me to see that Boodge's behavior, too, stemmed from a need to get out all his own frustrated and sad feelings as he struggled to move forward.
So after an evening of reading Wipfler, I woke up I was eager to "staylisten". Soften a little, encourage Boodge to let out all his emotions, give him my loving arms and attention. Every morning we nurse when he wakes up, and often not for as long as he wants. That morning, I told him he was done and predictably, he started to cry and ask for more. Usually, I get a bit short with him, saying something like, "When we're done, we're done, I don't want any crying." And more lecturing follows as he cries more. That day, I just said, "Aw, I know, you want more and you can't. That's hard." He stopped crying and looked and me and said, "Mama, can I cry?"
"Sure you can cry, sweetie." I said kindly. He resumed crying for about 30 seconds, then was fine. We cuddled and snuggled and played until his sister woke up. It was awesome! What a way to turn a bad scene around! I was instantly hooked on "staylistening".
After his nap, we used to nurse too but lately he doesn't always ask and I certainly don't offer. This time, he asked, and I really didn't feel like it. I told him no, but I'd love to cuddle him instead. He started crying again, "I really really want boooooo!!" I just empathized with him. "You really want it. I know. It's so hard for you to not have Boo. You're sad." After a while his sister woke up so I brought him crying into her room and then brought us all into the playroom, where he continued sobbing. About everything. "I don't want to wash my hair!" (I hadn't mentioned this at all, but he hates washing his hair so I guess it was pent up in there).
Then it became about his sister. They were both on my lap and she was sweetly trying to reach for her sobbing brother. "I don't want Peanut to touch me!"
I just validated what he was feeling and set limits, trying to bring out his feelings rather than shut them down. I was thinking of Neufeld's concept of a "wall of futility", and his advice that parents who try to make things "work out" for their kids just delay them from having the tears they need to have.
"I can't move Peanut's hand because both my hands are busy holding you guys. You can gently move her hand if you want."
"I want you to do it!"
"I can't."
"I don't want her on your lap!"
"I know. It's hard for you to share your mommy, isn't it? But I have room on my lap for both of you. I am right here with you, listening to you and taking care of you. And I love more and more every day, even though I love your sister and have to give her attention too."
"I want all the attention!!" he cried.
"I know, I'm sure you do." I replied. "It is so hard to have to share your Mommy now. But you are doing a great job. I'm so proud of you."
Eventually, the meltdown ended and Boodge was bouncy and happy again. He did seem cleared out, lighter. He was playing on his own without demanding all my attention. I enthusiastically related what had been going on to my husband when he came up for lunch. He listened as I described Wipfler's ideas. "It makes sense, I get it. But I'm also wondering if they present any proof that this turns out better kids?"
"Well, you have to clarify what you mean by 'better kid'?" I replied. But he was not trying to burst my bubble. He was just making a point, that in parenting it is almost impossible to know doing x will lead to y. There are no formulas that can handle so many variables. But I'm not parenting expecting that I have control over the final "product" of my child. I am focusing on what will create a better relationship for Boodge and I, not a "better" kid.
The day went on. Around three there was another meltdown, this one over my refusal to give him a shot glass full of honey/let him watch his show NOW. Oh, and the hair washing again. I listened. But honestly, it wasn't as "meaty" as the first and second ones. Still, he released some tears, and we moved on. Later, I did notice a couple of things. He spontaneously told me how he loved me all the way to the tippy top of the ceiling and back (sigh! he doesn't do that often) and also how he loved his sister all the way to the mountains. And he wasn't doing any of his attention seeking things. In fact, he was just buzzing around, singing and talking to himself, playing without need for me.
Then it was pre-dinner and I was trying to get it all ready. Another meltdown started. "Honey in a glass! Cheese!" No, I said, it's almost dinnertime. Tears and repeated demands for honey and cheese. Foot stomping. I held him and consoled him while he cried. I made empathic statements.
Then it started to feel like these were what my mom used to call "crocodile tears". Was he milking it? Was this "staylistening" technique backfiring, so that now he was enjoying getting my full attention through tears? I mean, c'mon, three meltdowns in a day is unusual. Was giving him loving attention a reward for tears, making him cry more? Or was he just releasing all his pent up feelings now that I was being nicer?
"Boodge," I said, "if you're really sad, I don't mind listening. But it's not OK to make it up just for my attention." He looked at me with bewilderment. Obviously too complex for him to understand. I told him I needed a break, and went to the living room.
"Shit," I said to my husband, who was quietly staying out of it. "this whole parenting thing is so confusing. This morning I was so convinced but now I'm totally not sure this is the right approach. What the hell? It feels like he's going to have more meltdowns just to get attention!" Sean smiled sympathetically, shrugging. I went back in to Boodge. He asked for honey in a glass again.
"Look Boodge," I said, picking him up. "Dinner is almost ready. We're having yummy chicken fingers. I'm not going to give you cheese or honey in a glass right now."
He burst into fresh sobs. "I want dinner now!! I'm so hungry! I'm hungry!" he sobbed. Sean called in from the living room, "I'm sure he is, it's almost 7." I did a mental list of what he had eaten in our busy afternoon or crying and buzzing around. Very little. A few bites here and there.
At dinner he wolfed down five chicken fingers. He didn't even wait for them to cool down. I've never seen him do that, usually dinner involves coaxing and convincing. He was hungry. It wasn't some deep emotional issue, some grief he needed to release, or any attention seeking. He was hungry. I guess that's what happens when you have a counsellor for a mom. Poor Boodge.
What's the moral of this story? Wipfler is not wrong at all. I have been "staylistening" for a couple of weeks now, and it's part of my toolbox now. I do think it helps Boodge release his emotions and move on. When his tears are about something emotional. But I was so focused on applying X ("staylistening") technique to Y (crying) behavior that I missed out on the other variables. Crying is not always about emotions. In kids, it is also about hunger, fatigue, illness, and a myriad of other things. So it really is about good old fashioned "listening" to figure out what is behind the tears and what response is best. The moral of the story, for me, is that you can't parent using a set of instructions. I can't, anyway. But it doesn't hurt to consult the gazillion manuals out there from time to time.
Monday, April 4, 2011
Some Nice Advice
One of my pet peeves (it's a monster pet) is unsolicited advice. I'm getting better at blowing it off, because I know I've become overly defensive about it at times, especially with family (strangers--who cares?). But still, it irks me. I guess I feel that behind every piece of advice, there is a judgment of the situation and an opinion about what I should do with my life (or my children's lives, now that I have them). There is also the implication that the person doesn't think I know what I'm doing or have a plan already, or they haven't asked. Plus, there's the "none of your business" factor.
Becoming a counsellor only solidified my feelings. Counsellors have to walk a fine line between giving skills, ideas, techniques, to clients--but not advice, which clients often expect. Rather we have to figure out how to make the client see for themselves what they need to do--which may not be what we have in mind for them. Advice disempowers. If the person follows it, they haven't learned how to own a decision and its consequences, and act out of their own mind. If it fails, well, that's not their responsibility, they were just following their counsellor's advice. If they don't follow it, it can create tension in the relationship.
However, when I find myself in a situation where I don't know what the hell to do, I often solicit advice from anywhere and everywhere. Usually people who won't care if I don't follow it. Dear friends, moms at playgroups, grandparents, total strangers who write websites, professionals. Everyone has a different take on it and I put together the pieces that feel right. Just before I became a parent, a friend told me, "The best advice I ever got about parenting is to only follow advice you agree with in the first place." Amen.
Lately I've become conscious of a change in Boodge and also in our relationship. He's crying a lot, having meltdowns that go on and on when he wakes up from nap and several times a week, sometimes several times a day. And he's what some friends called "willfully obstinate". I tell him something that I don't want him to do, he looks me in the eye and does it again, laughing. He does all kinds of things that are against the rules when he wants our attention. He'll even come and tell me he broke the rule if I didn't notice, to see what I will do. I started to realize that so much of our day was spent with me speaking sternly to him and feeling frustrated. By the end of the day my face was tired from scowling so much. I don't want to feel angry, and I don't want my children to see an angry face on me all day.
I know a lot of this is normal developmental stuff, and it's inevitable that he will need to test my boundaries. But I wondered if there was more going on. We've started weaning, and I know that is a loss for him. His sister is sitting up, grabbing toys, laughing, and eating. She's full blown competition, and he mostly pretends she doesn't exist and always pushes her reaching hand away from him. Except that he's totally aware of when she's getting our attention and that's when he jumps in and does any song and dance that will take it away from her and give it to him. Slowly, over the months since his sister arrived, he's learned that negative attention is still attention, and he's smart enough to figure out how to get it.
I've talked to everyone, and I've picked out some things that are helping. From mom's in playgroup, I got that some sibling rivalry is inevitable, and every child is different in the way they handle it. From my mommy mentor D I got, "Welcome." She helped me realize, again, that I have entered a new kind of parenting, and a new phase in the parenting relationship. She also talked about how much attention Boodge was used to getting from me, and planted the idea that I may need to help him get "un-used" to it. From the moms in my prenatal group, I understood that though much of Boodge's behavior was totally normal for this age, some of it was beyond what they are experiencing with their sibling-less, weaned kids. Yes, he is probably having a hard time with the sibling and weaning adjustment. They suggested, among other things, pouring on the positive attention and acting as bored as possible about the misbehavior.
The positive attention, probably more than anything, has given me immediate results. I've started focusing on telling Boodge everything he is doing that is really awesome and helpful. When I first read the link I posted on positive attention, I remember scoffing at the example given, in which the author chides a parent who storms in to address an argument over a TV show, but never gave any positive attention to the kids while they were sitting quietly for half an hour watching TV. I thought, "Whatever! Watching TV is what they WANT to do."
But I quickly realized--Boodge quietly watches TV four times day so I can take his little sister to bed and get her to sleep. He likes it, sure, but so what? He's also waiting quietly and I don't have to worry that he's drawing on the walls with a sharpie or climbing out a window, and that deserves acknowledgement. When anyone is behaving just as you want them to, it's easy to not notice because nothing is bugging you. Looking around, I've found a million reasons to praise him. He really is a great little person. Focusing on positive attention has helped me remember that, and stop scowling.
The funny thing is that now he'll point out the negative things he did. When I told him he was really good at staying near me and listening and keeping his hands off things in the grocery store, he said, "But I crashed into the ladies cart." But sometimes he'll also ask for specifics "But Mommy, what did I do good?" And I can just see it on his face that he feels better about our relationship, and even himself. He wants to be a good guy, and positive attention reminds him how. Today I asked him, when he was running away instead of going pee before nap, "Do you want me to feel frustrated?" and he said, "No." Two weeks ago, that same question got a "Yes." And what's better--he has started to acknowledge his sister's existence again, and even gave a squishy "I love her!" the other morning.
That change may also be helped by some advice I got from a site I stumbled onto called "Hand in Hand Parenting". Hand in hand has an articles section which includes a lot of writing by a total stranger/parenting "expert" named Patty Wipfler. Her writing included a few things that really resonated with me with regard to helping Boodge with the crying. She suggests that when children have meltdowns, it is a positive thing, a release of pent-up emotions that will help clear them out, and then they will behave better naturally, having been allowed their feelings. As parents, we need to help them get these emotions out by inviting them to cry and providing a safe holding space for the feelings.
Even if the tears are because of a limit we're setting, we can comfort our child while holding the limit for as long as it takes for them to cry out their feelings. (In theory, as long as baby isn't crying, dinner isn't burning, older child isn't waiting at school for a pick up, we're not overwhelmed and exhausted, etc). She even suggests that sometimes when children need to blow their top, they will bring on a tantrum by forcing you to set a limit through their bizarre demands ("I need the ketchup THERE! NO, THERE!!!"). My next post will talk more about what I learned through my experience trying to apply Wipfler's "Staylistening" technique for meltdowns.
Wipfler is not the only one who talks about this. Gordon Neufeld in "Hold On To Your Kids" also discusses "tears of futility". He says we parents need to be willing to put up walls for our kids so that they can come up against them, realize the futility of their path, and move on in a different direction. This is how we all adapt to change and loss. We have to at some point allow ourselves to feel the futility of hanging on to an idea or a relationship or a goal, and cry it out of us. Then we can adapt and mature.
Crying is emotional "poop". It's our body shedding waste, in the form of futile emotion. That idea totally resonates with me. I'm not afraid of a good cry myself, and Wipfer and Neufeld have really helped me not fear them in Boodge either. I'm just working on the complicated mix of being the heavy and the softie at the same time. Not easy.
So there you have it. That explains why I haven't been posting lately. Too busy soliciting advice, and trying to apply it. Too busy stepping up my parenting game and giving more time to my little troubled man. And too scowly and preoccupied to have anything useful to say. The other great thing about soliciting advice--you get to talk about the problem, and that helps release emotion too. People are so kind and giving. Thanks to everyone who has given me some time with their ear, their keyboards, their writings, and their hearts. When you need it, good advice is a wonderful thing.
Becoming a counsellor only solidified my feelings. Counsellors have to walk a fine line between giving skills, ideas, techniques, to clients--but not advice, which clients often expect. Rather we have to figure out how to make the client see for themselves what they need to do--which may not be what we have in mind for them. Advice disempowers. If the person follows it, they haven't learned how to own a decision and its consequences, and act out of their own mind. If it fails, well, that's not their responsibility, they were just following their counsellor's advice. If they don't follow it, it can create tension in the relationship.
However, when I find myself in a situation where I don't know what the hell to do, I often solicit advice from anywhere and everywhere. Usually people who won't care if I don't follow it. Dear friends, moms at playgroups, grandparents, total strangers who write websites, professionals. Everyone has a different take on it and I put together the pieces that feel right. Just before I became a parent, a friend told me, "The best advice I ever got about parenting is to only follow advice you agree with in the first place." Amen.
Lately I've become conscious of a change in Boodge and also in our relationship. He's crying a lot, having meltdowns that go on and on when he wakes up from nap and several times a week, sometimes several times a day. And he's what some friends called "willfully obstinate". I tell him something that I don't want him to do, he looks me in the eye and does it again, laughing. He does all kinds of things that are against the rules when he wants our attention. He'll even come and tell me he broke the rule if I didn't notice, to see what I will do. I started to realize that so much of our day was spent with me speaking sternly to him and feeling frustrated. By the end of the day my face was tired from scowling so much. I don't want to feel angry, and I don't want my children to see an angry face on me all day.
I know a lot of this is normal developmental stuff, and it's inevitable that he will need to test my boundaries. But I wondered if there was more going on. We've started weaning, and I know that is a loss for him. His sister is sitting up, grabbing toys, laughing, and eating. She's full blown competition, and he mostly pretends she doesn't exist and always pushes her reaching hand away from him. Except that he's totally aware of when she's getting our attention and that's when he jumps in and does any song and dance that will take it away from her and give it to him. Slowly, over the months since his sister arrived, he's learned that negative attention is still attention, and he's smart enough to figure out how to get it.
I've talked to everyone, and I've picked out some things that are helping. From mom's in playgroup, I got that some sibling rivalry is inevitable, and every child is different in the way they handle it. From my mommy mentor D I got, "Welcome." She helped me realize, again, that I have entered a new kind of parenting, and a new phase in the parenting relationship. She also talked about how much attention Boodge was used to getting from me, and planted the idea that I may need to help him get "un-used" to it. From the moms in my prenatal group, I understood that though much of Boodge's behavior was totally normal for this age, some of it was beyond what they are experiencing with their sibling-less, weaned kids. Yes, he is probably having a hard time with the sibling and weaning adjustment. They suggested, among other things, pouring on the positive attention and acting as bored as possible about the misbehavior.
The positive attention, probably more than anything, has given me immediate results. I've started focusing on telling Boodge everything he is doing that is really awesome and helpful. When I first read the link I posted on positive attention, I remember scoffing at the example given, in which the author chides a parent who storms in to address an argument over a TV show, but never gave any positive attention to the kids while they were sitting quietly for half an hour watching TV. I thought, "Whatever! Watching TV is what they WANT to do."
But I quickly realized--Boodge quietly watches TV four times day so I can take his little sister to bed and get her to sleep. He likes it, sure, but so what? He's also waiting quietly and I don't have to worry that he's drawing on the walls with a sharpie or climbing out a window, and that deserves acknowledgement. When anyone is behaving just as you want them to, it's easy to not notice because nothing is bugging you. Looking around, I've found a million reasons to praise him. He really is a great little person. Focusing on positive attention has helped me remember that, and stop scowling.
The funny thing is that now he'll point out the negative things he did. When I told him he was really good at staying near me and listening and keeping his hands off things in the grocery store, he said, "But I crashed into the ladies cart." But sometimes he'll also ask for specifics "But Mommy, what did I do good?" And I can just see it on his face that he feels better about our relationship, and even himself. He wants to be a good guy, and positive attention reminds him how. Today I asked him, when he was running away instead of going pee before nap, "Do you want me to feel frustrated?" and he said, "No." Two weeks ago, that same question got a "Yes." And what's better--he has started to acknowledge his sister's existence again, and even gave a squishy "I love her!" the other morning.
That change may also be helped by some advice I got from a site I stumbled onto called "Hand in Hand Parenting". Hand in hand has an articles section which includes a lot of writing by a total stranger/parenting "expert" named Patty Wipfler. Her writing included a few things that really resonated with me with regard to helping Boodge with the crying. She suggests that when children have meltdowns, it is a positive thing, a release of pent-up emotions that will help clear them out, and then they will behave better naturally, having been allowed their feelings. As parents, we need to help them get these emotions out by inviting them to cry and providing a safe holding space for the feelings.
Even if the tears are because of a limit we're setting, we can comfort our child while holding the limit for as long as it takes for them to cry out their feelings. (In theory, as long as baby isn't crying, dinner isn't burning, older child isn't waiting at school for a pick up, we're not overwhelmed and exhausted, etc). She even suggests that sometimes when children need to blow their top, they will bring on a tantrum by forcing you to set a limit through their bizarre demands ("I need the ketchup THERE! NO, THERE!!!"). My next post will talk more about what I learned through my experience trying to apply Wipfler's "Staylistening" technique for meltdowns.
Wipfler is not the only one who talks about this. Gordon Neufeld in "Hold On To Your Kids" also discusses "tears of futility". He says we parents need to be willing to put up walls for our kids so that they can come up against them, realize the futility of their path, and move on in a different direction. This is how we all adapt to change and loss. We have to at some point allow ourselves to feel the futility of hanging on to an idea or a relationship or a goal, and cry it out of us. Then we can adapt and mature.
Crying is emotional "poop". It's our body shedding waste, in the form of futile emotion. That idea totally resonates with me. I'm not afraid of a good cry myself, and Wipfer and Neufeld have really helped me not fear them in Boodge either. I'm just working on the complicated mix of being the heavy and the softie at the same time. Not easy.
So there you have it. That explains why I haven't been posting lately. Too busy soliciting advice, and trying to apply it. Too busy stepping up my parenting game and giving more time to my little troubled man. And too scowly and preoccupied to have anything useful to say. The other great thing about soliciting advice--you get to talk about the problem, and that helps release emotion too. People are so kind and giving. Thanks to everyone who has given me some time with their ear, their keyboards, their writings, and their hearts. When you need it, good advice is a wonderful thing.
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