Dealing With Tough Days

Z as a two-year old ball of energy and independence.

"Waking up this morning, I smile.  

Twenty four brand new hours are before me.  

I vow to live fully in each moment 

and to look at all beings with the eyes of compassion." 

Thich Nhat Hahn

I learn so much about Z and myself when we have tough days.

I've seen my ugly side when he blows up.  In him and me.

I've learned how to talk with him and pay attention to his cues so that we don't (usually) end up blowing up.  I am learning how to diffuse instead of deal with the aftermath.

It's like when I'm driving down the highway and a car comes up fast in the lane next to me.  I have a choice.  What kind of person do I want to be?  What is the best way to react?  I can wait until he cuts me off and slams on the breaks, and get furious.  Or I can see what's about to happen, slow down and prevent it.  Maybe just get out of the traffic.  It will pass.

We've had some of the best play days, park days and shopping trips since I've learned what works.

It's easy to see when he is tired, intimidated or over-stimulated.  Maybe his energy doesn't match those around him.  That means it is time to go.

I have no formula.  I just have to pay better attention.  I can't expect to control, all I can do is encourage.

We talk.  We hug.  I listen.

I've learned the right words.  Energetic, enthusiastic, strong willed and independent.  Not feisty, hard to deal with, rude and unpredictable.  I compliment him as much as possible.

Sometimes it takes longer than others and we still have bad moments, but it's working for us.

"Change your perspective, and the most ordinary things take on inexpressible beauty."  

Karen Maezen Miller

I've got a beautiful boy.  I can't expect.  I have to appreciate.

He's been different than other kids since the moment I first felt him.  I can't expect him to be other than how he is.  I have learned how to deal with his differences.

I haven't even had a close repeat of the photo-shoot day, which I blame more on me than him.

He has even quit using choice words.  You know the ones.  The ones no mother wants to hear.

There is less hitting and physical explosion.

He is learning patience, tolerance and empathy having a brother.  It's tough learning to share the world with others and be compassionate.

I'm learning.  He's learning.  We're learning together.  Each moment is new territory.

I remember before I had kids, or when Z was young, and I'd see others' kids going nuts.  I'd think, "Wow. I will never have a kid that acts like that."  I now laugh at my arrogance back then.

I have now walked a few miles on the darkside.  I know many around me don't understand because their kids aren't like Z, but that's OK.  They've never taken a few steps in my shoes.  I'm doing my best and that's all I can do.

It's not easy being three.

It's not easy being a mom.