Summer days!

Aah. Summer! ☉

School days, seemingly chaotic in the moment, are actually idyllic compared to the hot, non-routinized, always bumping into each other summer days. Whoever romanticized the summer hols mustn’t have had children! 

Sure there are isolated moments when kids aren’t fighting, and you have enough money to check off the bucket list of fun-time activities, and day camps are blissfully drama-free … but really? Those are the few moments that are social media snap worthy. 

My days revolve around a mix of device/tv time requests, shouting and frustrated kids, sunburns, too much indoor time, and a million freezies wrappers on every surface of the house. *not even exaggerating. 

Pinterest has some amazing “kids-get-device-time-if-all-these-things-are-done” lists that are so inspiring and so improbable that I just gloss over them when they creep across my feed. 

Until I decided to give it a try. I was tired of redirecting kids (ok, I was already tired of all the *imagined* redirecting) so I crafted up a list, and hung it by our whiteboard/listboard. 

There was a little bit of push back, I’m not gonna lie. My oldest also thought it was ridiculous for me to have a “notes and comments” section. 

It’s been a few days and it’s been so well received! Kids are avoiding devices first thing in the morning. They discuss which jobs will get done. We discuss how this helps the whole family. They play outside together. They share books. 

Let’s hope this continues! We may run out of jobs around the house hahaha!
Just kidding. We totally won’t.

Xo Mto3

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and the pendulum swings…

Is there anything in the middle on the parenting continuum between ‘I got this! I know it all!’ and ‘Oh-my-word, how much more can I screw up!?’ I’d just like the arc on the pendulum to be a little shorter. Or to spend more time in the fair-to-middling section.

My mum used to lament that babies don’t come with manuals. Yah, I know. In today’s age, I wish that we could download a program that will automatically switch on when we are about to say or do something that we will regret. Or that might negatively affect our kiddos.

I get it. The only way to navigate parenting -and the things that come up in us as parents/humans- is to go through it, be as self-aware as possible, and make amends and learn when possible. Sometimes it’s super hard to even realize why we’re reacting.
We may just feel the heat creep up our neck to make our head explode – or we won’t even feel it, it’ll just seem like a sudden explosion. Other times we won’t want to explore why we’re having a reaction to what a kiddo did/said because we can feel it’s unfathomable depth and we’re still scared of what’s in the dark. It can even happen in good times: kiddo’s desires are overshadowed by ours and they can’t see a way out to tell us their truth. We won’t be sailing along all smooth and calm all the time. And that’s okay.

We have to take the fumbles and the misses and the shining successes. It’s what keeps us engaged in the game. It’s where we learn and connect and grow. It is *very* uncomfortable in the moment. And in the moments that follow where we wish things could have been different. This is where we can check in with ourselves. 
Why
is it so uncomfortable? What’s coming up inside us that causes these feelings? Where did they come from? When was another time I felt this way or had this situation? If that’s too much reflecting, a body check is helpful too – where on my body am I feeling the uncomfort-ability? Hop back into the game. Apologize when appropriate. Share your thoughts. Take the learning.

Twice tonight I reacted with trio. I didn’t feel I was particularly yell-y but two seemed to shut down, so I know I missed an opportunity. Seriously – we talked about hair cuts last week. And the night before grad is when you ask? I’m supposed to help decorate your gym tomorrow after school. And then the other two need to picked up from school, then we have dinner and get back to the school for the Ceremony. Whew. I was sharp in my shock. I guess I sounded rough. I was worried that this was important to you and I just want to try to support you, and it came out all wrong.
It’s hard not to kick ourselves when this happens, and to try and create some space for self-reflection. Why was I so sensitive to what was happening? How can I shift this? What might I be able to do next time? Can I talk to them about it? What is missing in my life that might fill-my-bucket?

If it seems that this line of thought heads down a dank old rabbit hole, it’s important to stop and shift. Do something else. Squeeze a mental hug. Remember that I’m learning too. Breathe. And keep shifting away from the spiral.

edited to add:
No one is sleeping tonight. It’s nearly midnight and each kiddo has woken up at least once and wandered and said hi and had drinks of water and peed. But, happily, my oldest and I chatted it out and shared and talked, and even thought I think I could have better handled the moment at bedtime, it led to a wonderful connection opportunity between us.

We’re all works in progress. It’s hard to realize that as the parent, when I thought I was supposed to have it all together, and know all the answers. There’s no downloadable program after all, so it’s helpful to remember that I’m human too.

xo
Mto3

Adulting. Yah, that.

Be the adult you want your kids to be.

Whoa.

That quote from Brene Brown’s Daring Greatly runs through my mind at unexpected times. When I’m driving. When I’m talking to others. When one of trio are standing before me. When I’m frustrated. In quiet moments with trio.

It’s not that I need to be perfect. Or always calm. Or super knowledgeable.

I read it as being open. Smiling and extending love. Asking for help, and giving help when asked. Offering help when it seems to be needed. Being kind. Apologizing. Sharing time together. Questioning and debating. Following through. Standing up for others.

Being authentic to yourself.

Helping trio discover their authentic self.

There are moments everyday when I have an opportunity to model the adult for trio – even if they’re not there to witness it.

There have been several times recently when an opportunity has presented itself to be the adult I want trio to be. Each time, it would have been easier to close my eyes and ears and put my head down and mind my own business.

  • A man in the grocery store didn’t have any cash or cards to cover his bill – he only had a Visa gift card, and it wasn’t applicable at this store. His bill was $17 and he had cat food, some veg, and a frozen meal. I offered to include it in my bill. He was so thankful and offered the gift card in exchange. He said he was just out of hospital after a heart attack and his cat needed to eat, and he needed something for tonight’s dinner. He was nearly in tears.
  • At a stop light, Lil Miss noticed that the pick up truck in front of us had it’s trunk open and there was a gas can in danger of falling out. The light was about to turn green, so I hopped out, pushed the can back in and closed his trunk door. Another car was trying to shout to the driver what was happening, but the driver had no idea. He eventually understood and waved his thanks to us with a big smile.
  • At another grocery store, a woman’s card kept declining, and the woman didn’t understand the cashier’s words well enough to figure out what was happening. The customer behind me split the woman’s bill with me ($75 was too rich for either of us to absorb on our own).

My good friend has often commented that she feels community is very important. We are as strong and healthy as each other. It makes sense, therefore, that we should strive to help and support each other. We can do this by seeing and hearing a need and moving to reduce that need.

I had a scary moment at the weekend when I thought the water pipes in my house had burst (don’t worry – they didn’t) but I saw that the problem far outstripped my experience and I called for help. Letting trio see that I help when I can, and I ask for help when needed allows them to see that we are all on both sides of the helping hand. And it’s ok.

For me, that’s the adult I’d like trio to become. That’s (part of) what Brene’s quote means to me.

xo
Mto3

Gotta catch them all!

The moments.

The little moments when a kiddo leans against me. Or asks for 5 more minutes of snuggles. Or follows me around the house while I’m trying to get work done. Or lingers at the dinner table. Or holds the door open for me. Or doesn’t let go of a hug.

As an out-loud reminder to myself, and also to trio, I comment that I enjoy these times as they come up. It grounds me. It is a concrete acknowledgement that their time of being small(er) is temporary and they won’t always find as much comfort in my presence, and they won’t always be present around me. It keeps me in-the-moment and centered in gratitude.

The natural progression is that they will gradually not need me around them so much. In fact, part of my job as a mum is to help them figure out how to derive comfort from their own inner core. This reminder helps shift me away from feeling tired, or overwhelmed, or irritated (yes, when I have a huge pile of things to do, it can feel irritating when I need to make room for their needs too). Most of the time, the mindshift works and I drop instantly into the present. But other times I just don’t have enough resources inside me to make that space for them.

By saying it out loud to them, I think that conveys my love to them, and that they’re important.* I hope it also lets them know that it’s ok when they start to drift away from me and into their own lives, because I understand that there is a nucleus shift away from me as-the-center and into their own center.

When I take a step back from the day-to-day, I see the bigger picture of how our lives will diverge and I want them to have as many skills, tools, and a bucket as full as I can make it – and teach them how to fill their own bucket.

It’s as though we are all on a path and many times I’m the only one walking, and they are hanging off me and holding my hand. But as we walk, they begin to have a path of their own: a path that veers away from our family path and then rejoins, and then separates again. It’s the steps when we’re walking together that I treasure. Those are the moments I strive to see with a grateful heart. The times when we walk together will become less and less frequent, and I can celebrate that I’ve taught them as much as I can on how to walk with strength – alone and apart from me and the family path.

As a solo parent, it becomes evident that it will be just me on the path (eventually). I want to be able to celebrate that I’ve learned, and taught myself, as much as possible on how to walk alone. With strength and confidence. Just like them.

xo
Mto3

*I hope it doesn’t make them feel guilty that their needs are trumping whatever is happening in the moment. Or that it’s a chore for me to give them some time…

Every little thing…

So, this just happened.

20170426_112538

I just wanted to share out loud that this is another repair job in an ongoing list of things that I need to take care of. Door knobs. Wood working school projects (with woefully under-supplied power tools). Dishwasher shelf wheel-thingys. Suctionless vacuums. I am the One responsible.

There are people who do home repairs as a profession, and yet I know I won’t call anyone.

I’m strangely compelled to try and tackle things on my own. There is a cost factor, absolutely. There’s also a stubborn streak, to prove I can do things myself. There’s a learning piece, to expose trio to household repairs. There’s a feminist component wrapped up in here too, that a woman can handle what comes up too.

Plumbing work is brand new to me, so I’m kind of excited and intimidated about this job.

Underpinning all of the above is the sense that we need to be our own cheerleaders. Our own motivators. Our own source of strength. We rely on ourselves first, and then reach out second.

I’ll give this a try, and then if things go horribly wrong, at least I’ll have learned a little something.

Thanks for listening and letting me share this. I feel more capable after saying this out loud.

xo
Mto3

Back to a little-better-than normal

After our painstaking weekend ended in a pukey kid, today was brighter. Better than, I’d say. 

I’m not quick to apologize when I’m wrong (although I am totally trying), but I will talk about events and situations and get feedback and try to do things differently next time. 

At different times today, I touched in with the kids about the weekend and how I was feeling and how I feel different today. Is that the right approach? Is this the best choice? I don’t know. I felt it was: we all have different motivators that come into play when we react. I guess I wanted trio to know it can shape a behaviour, but doesn’t necessarily define our whole self.

Trio will make choices in their lives where, I’m sure, it will feel that will shape their sense of self. Maybe positively. Maybe negatively. In either way, their next choice needn’t be dependent on that perception of self. Talking about it lets them know that they can be aware of what’s going on inside them, make changes, and make choices next time.

Is it that I’m seeing things differently today? Noticing that my biggest boy is proactively helping and anticipating what might happen next? Acknowledging how helpful it is when lil miss asks what the evening plans are before rushing out to play? Appreciating that my younger boy tells me about upcoming homework needs or things he needs my help with? Whether they’re always like this, and I just missed it over the weekend; or that the weekend helped them make different choices today; or some other unknown variable… I’m grateful.  

Xo 

A little sick and tired…

In many ways I consider myself an ‘experienced’ mum – multiple kids, wrangling on my own, a mix of boys and girls, a chaotic combination of abilities and personalities… In other ways I know that I’m learning every single day – and some days the lesson is harsh.

Last night, Lil Miss didn’t want to eat dinner – her stomach was uncomfortable. She had been at a friends for the bulk of the day on Saturday, played hard outside all morning on Sunday, and trio and I went out in the afternoon. The boys were saying that my homemade ham-and-bean soup was good (better than my typical ham chowder), and the fresh buns I made were so good with the cheese and chive egg-wash. She turned up her nose and said she didn’t like it, and frequently wandered away from the table during dinner.

I’m not going to lie: the day had been rather frustrating. I was feeling short tempered and easily aggravated, and overwhelmed, and that everything is my fault – the messy yard, the cluttered garage, that we didn’t get to take pup to the park again, that I needed to go to the grocery store… *and* the to-do list was full of Spring Cleaning chores. Trio just wanted to play video games, watch The Flash and chat with their friends. But they’re all quick enough to complain that we “ran out” of Nutella. Or that they can’t unearth their skateboard from the garage pile. Or their sweatshirts don’t fit anymore. Or irritated because the van door isn’t opening. I’m the One who has to deal with it all.

Usually riding over these reactions is easy for me. I can understand and sympathize and rally the troops in a way that meets all our goals. This weekend I could not. I was sick and tired of being the One. She who will cook. Clean. Rally. Encourage. Mediate. Remind. Be patient. Coax. Shop. Remember *everything.*

I just didn’t have it in me this weekend.

So when Lil Miss refused my cheap-o Dinner-on-a-Dime, I had little wiggle room in me to cajole or insist or seek to understand. My heart was playing the tape that I’m not good enough to do it all. And is she objecting because our dinner wasn’t the usual roast & potatoes – it’s a close-to-the-poverty-line week for me, and my fear of making a bad career choice echoed in her refusal. I vaguely wondered how this might be better if I had a partner to help in these moments. My mind and heart was full of my own feelings and deficiencies and concerns and fears. I knew I was actively missing an opportunity to connect with her, but… well. I didn’t want to. I felt wrung out.
I managed not to yell (as I had already done that a few times in the last day or two), but just told her she could eat her dinner or leave the table for her room if she was that sick.

Ugh. I know.

She didn’t want to leave the table, she wanted to be around her family, and had no other ways to tell me that she was feeling ill. She reluctantly had a bite of delicious soup and promptly threw up all over the table – looking startled and unsure. My poor middle son nearly followed suit until I managed to encourage her to dash to the bathroom. I divided my time between cleaning up her mess, and comforting her in the bathroom. Pup certainly helped with cleaning the floor (ohmygawsh, it’s so gross when he does it, and yet so helpful too – totally mixed reaction from me!).

In the moments before she was sick, I could see she looked pale. I could see this was unusual behaviour from her. I knew there was another reaction I could choose, and yet I didn’t. She sweetly thanked me for taking care of her, and told me that I was right – that she was sick and should have been in her room.

She remained flat out on the couch, and after the 3rd time dashing up the hall, I gave her a pot to keep beside her. The boys and I tidied, and put out the garbage, and we all chilled on the couch watching The Flash until bedtime. My oldest and I enjoy Sunday Night tv together: typically The Walking Dead, but the season finale was last week. He really wanted to watch another program with me, and shoo his sister upstairs, but she was still so pukey, I couldn’t leave her be. He and I will watch it tonight.

I realized that I might have experience parenting small children, and I’m familiar with what that might feel like inside of me, as a mum and a person. I made space for their emotional development and needs in an easy way that didn’t trip many of my tapes or emotions. It’s harder, I’m finding, to parent teens and tweens – they look and sound like older people, and yet their emotions and insides are more similar to children. They are capable of judgement and derision and haughty stares in a way that is totally expected and normal for their development – and yet, creates strong reactions in me! I know they don’t have the life experience or the emotional maturity to understand how that might impact others. When I choose to connect and strive to understand and try to climb out of my own spiral, I find we navigate these challenges better together.

The tough lesson for me this weekend is to still trust my gut instinct – a blip is just that, and not a harbinger of a New World Order. Hm, and to trust that trio are still the same people as when they were smaller – loving, happy, zany, independent – but are also trying to figure out who else they can be.

We’re all trying to figure things out together.

 

xo

Mto3