Liam Update: July 2012

At bedtime, Liam asks me to lie down with him by patting his pillow and saying, "Bed!"  Once I'm lying next to him, he'll insist on giving me kisses.  "Kith Nose," he'll say, and kiss my nose.  "Kith Eyes," is next, and he'll kiss my eyes.  Then, "Kith Hair," and he kisses the top of my head.   Last is "Kith mouth," and he'll plant a peck on my lips.  When he's done with kisses, he'll say, "Enough!"  Enough, Mommy!"    

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One day when his Uncle Quentin and Aunt Tailour were visiting, Liam was playing a game with them that involved sneaking.  He has a very exaggerated, squatty sneaking-up technique that involves a lot of elbow swinging and knee bending.  They both thought it was hilarious.    
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Liam taught himself how to jump, finally.  Legs shoulder-width apart, feet splayed out, he swings his chubby little arms and clears the floor by about a quarter inch.  He is in ecstasy.  I overheard Soren say to his Aunt Tailour: "Isn't it 'coo' that Liam can jump so well even though he's so little?"  
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Liam's new favorite word: "Nnnnnnnno!"
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Whenever Liam hears a rooster crow, he says, "I'm coming, Rooster!"  One day he was flying jellybeans into his mouth and making them say, "I'm coming, Liam!"
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One morning I told Soren that if he hurt Liam again, we wouldn't go to the park as planned. He was offended by this, and spent some time pouting around ostentatiously.  I was doing my best to ignore him but Liam, seeing his brother distressed, toddled up and offered him a hug.
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One evening Liam expressed an interest in going potty in the potty.  He sat down on the training toilet and Soren immediately rushed in with a stack of books to keep him occupied. He also planned to do a pooping demonstration on the big potty but Liam got bored (or maybe uncomfortable!) and decided to quite potty training for the day.
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Liam does this adorable thing where he'll be running along and suddenly stop, back up a few paces, get a grim and determined look on his face,  then barrel forward.  It reminds me of a cross between a toy cars you wind up by pulling backwards and a football player heading in for a home run.  

He climbed into bed and fell asleep all by himself.  What kid does that?  

Liam is a joy.  Everyone loves him.  Even when he's being obstinant and defiant, he's adorable.  Even when he's woken up for the sixth time in a single night, he's precious.  It's just impossible to be mad at him.  He is my snuggly buggly cuddlebucket of love.      

A Happy Post

I'm feeling perfectly contented and wonderfully happy tonight.

Spent a sunny day with my gorgeous little boys.  

We went fabric shopping and I couldn't resist Liam's happy shiny little face when he ran up to me with the package of fingerpaints he found.  And then I told Soren that he had to pick between the two "soft" things he wanted ("It's the craft fur or the curtain tassel, boy!"), but when he sweetly acquiesced and selected the craft fur I was all, "Oooooh!  You're too sweet!  We'll get the tassel too."   

We went to the bookstore and they each picked out some books.  Liam even sprawled out on the floor on his belly to flip through the books he found.  When the clerk rang rang us up and told me, "Thirty-seven even," Soren asked, "Is that lady speaking Anglish?  Or is that Spanish?"  

Grandma and Grandpa Hanson sweetly watched the boys for me while I took a nap in their guest room.  

Then we got snowcones and ate them in a patch of grass by the highway.  Liam tried several snowcone eating methods (straw? spoon? drink?) but finally settled on using his fingers.  Soren got sick of his halfway through and asked me to tell the lady in the Snowshack that the snowcones started out tasting yummy but got yucky at the end.  

We went grocery shopping and they didn't whine or beg.   

We came home and I cooked, not one, but two nutritious dinners (one for tonight-- one for tomorrow!).  Liam helped by sauteeing mushrooms and onions.  Soren helped by sprinkling spices on the chicken.

We danced in the kitchen to Haydn's surprise symphony and Beethoven's fifth.  

And then their good-lookin' daddy came home and we all went to the park.  Liam made friends with the angsty teenagers sitting on the stage in the park shelter.  Soren wallowed around in the dirt.  Daddy sat on the top of the jungle gym and chatted with Soren.  Mommy kept an eye on Liam and read Take the Cannoli.          

We brought the kids home, bathed them, and put them to bed.  (They were even too tired to even remember to employ any bedtime delay tactics!)

And then I went for a solid run.  

All in all, a very good day.    

Can I just tell you how desperately in love I am with my little family?  How precious they are to me?  My sweet, supportive husband and those blue-eyed little boys--they are my everything. My only complaint is that the boys are growing so quickly.  I just want to freeze them, just how they are.  Keep their little cheeks heart-breakingly smooth.  Keep them little enough to curl up in my lap for a story or a cuddle or a song.  Keep them young enough to always love being chased and tickled, to always notice every butterfly and airplane, to ask endless questions.  They are little angels, pure and lovely and perfect (even when they're caked in mud and acting less-than-angelic!)  I'm so grateful they are ours.  

Snuffer Visit 2012

Abe's sister and her husband, Nate, and their two kiddos came to live with us for three weeks.  They are a lovely family and it was fun to have them here.  I kind of slacked in the picture-taking department, but this is what I've got of their visit here:  

Chase (far right) is six.  Maya (middle) had just turned five before arriving at our house.  They kept my kiddos occupied much of the time.  Chase and Maya spent a lot of time pretending that Chase was a baby named Juicy and Maya was his mother.  Sometimes to switch things up, I got to be the mother and Maya was the Grandma. 

 One day the kids helped me make cupcakes.  Maya somehow ended up with chocolate on her forehead.   If you look closely, you can see Nate in the background.  

And yes, that is Liam looking very pregnant.  He's due any day now.  

 When Chase and Maya learned that at our house you can do chores to earn tokens that can be spent on toys and candy, they very enthusiastically did any household task I requested of them.  They were forever asking if there was anything they could do to earn tokens.  I wish Soren would catch their excitement. 

Brothers

More than anything, I want my boys to be each others' best friend.  Soren still occasionally tells me that he wishes Liam were dead, so I don't think they're quite there, but they do play together adorably sometimes.  

On the trampoline at my sister's house.   

 At a park with Daddy.

 Playing dress-up in the kitchen. 

Playing "Bridge." 

Liam looking on in alarm at Soren's flamboyant cross-dressing dance moves.

Soren excitedly telling me about Liam's new hair clips.

Twin burritos. 

In the sandbox with Mommy.  I love sandboxes.

Soren pretending to tuck Liam in for a nap.  

Catch-up Post: Birthdays

Soren turned five on January 1st.  We had family over for a party...

 ...plus he wanted to invite two friends, Kienzle and Porter.  Aren't they adorable?  

Soren decorated his own cake.  Cute, eh?

Liam turned three on February 25th, so we had another party.

Briar decorated Liam'sLightning McQueen cake.

My boys are getting so big!

Star Hope Campground: 2012

To celebrate the 4th, my parents and my sister's family and me and my boys went camping.  Abe had to work, so we sadly left him at home.  When we reached our camping destination following a four-hour-long drive, I realized that I had forgotten to bring two important items:

1) A camera.
2) The boys' clothes.  (Mind you, I'm not such a dingbat that I didn't PACK the children some clothes.  They just didn't make it out to the car.)


But we survived anyway, thanks especially to Grandma and Grandpa, who took the boys into Mackay the next day and wandered forlornly around the town, begging for clothes, until they were finally able to procure two shirts, one pair of pants, a package of pull-ups, and a Mackay Pride hoody.  The boys were constantly filthy from head-to-toe, so I figured it didn't really matter that they didn't have fresh clothes every day, because they would have dirtified their new outfits early in the day anyway.

The boys and I tried various sleeping configurations each night, including: (1) In Grandma and Grandpa's camper, boys on the table bed, Mommy switching between the bunk bed and table bed throughout the night, (2) In the tent, on the air mattress, a boy on each side of mommy, and (3) In the camper, Mommy and boys on the table bed.  All I can say is that it's a good thing my boys are cuddlers, not kickers or squirmers.  I would also like to express my gratitude to my darling parents who allowed me long, luxurious naps on our two full days in the campground to help compensate for these less-than-optimal sleeping positions.

Highlights of the trip included:

-Grandpa taking Soren fishing.  Soren caught eight fish in about one hour!
-Grandma finding some fun new books (Including my favorites, The Talking Eggs and The Three Little Wolves and the Big Bad Pig) for the boys at a garage sale in Mackay.  
-Mommy spending a lot of time following Liam around the campground, chasing him around in circles, and watching him energetically dance on any ant he found until it was deceased.
-Soren catching a pet butterfly.
-Liam repeatedly tipping his obliging eleven-year-old cousin, Marty, out of his hammock.  This caused Liam to laugh until he couldn't catch his breath. 
-Soren and Mommy building a fort out of branches and logs.
-Soren and Mommy going for a hike.
-My dad showing me how to drive the Smith's four-wheeler and riding with me while we took a delightful, wind-in-the-face spin through a canyon.  
-Soren pretending to be the teacher and taking Mommy and Liam and his stuffed bunny, Bucky, on a field trip to the creek.
-Soren going for a hike with his Auntie Collette and cousins Tessa and Calysta and encouraging himself up the hillside by quietly repeating to himself, "I fink I can, I fink I can, I fink I can, I fink I can...."

I was proud of myself for surviving four days in the wilderness with my children.  I couldn't have done it without lots of family support, for which I am very grateful.  It truly was a lovely trip.

P.S. Isn't Star Hope the best name ever?  If we ever have a girl child, that'll totally be her name.

Sin, Repentance, and Love

I've been thinking a lot about the concept of sin lately.  Also, repentance.  And of course, my favorite, love. 

Sin

What is sin, exactly?  There are things we do that aren't good, I know this.   Some people even do very awful, unspeakable things to other people.  But we are a muddled-up bunch, we human beings, each person a big tangle of genetics and brain structure and spirit and chemicals and diet and sleep and family background and traumatic events and personality quirks that mix and react and make each person susceptible to all kinds of serious mistake making.  

I see choices as being right and wrong depending on how they affect other living things, especially other people.  And I see other choices as being more conducive to happiness than others.  But "sin" and "sinfulness" and "wickedness" are concepts that are strange to me.  They don't seem useful to me-- in fact, they seem more like labels that separate us from ourselves, from each other, and from God.  To be "sinful" or "wicked" means to be bad, filthy, unworthy of love.  It is difficult to conceptualize positive change growing from such a burdensome concept, to imagine love and compassion springing from that idea.  

I believe that all  human beings contain a spark of divinity, a light that can be brightened or dimmed but never extinguished, though it can certainly be covered and hidden and dimmed by unkindness or cruelty, by addiction, by fear.  That dimming or covering is the closest I can come to understanding the concept of "sin," which draws it more as a descent into sadness--or perhaps a loss of light-- but never a diminishing of the immutably divine nature of the individual.

Repentance

Repentance is another idea that is difficult for me because it draws images of sackcloth and ashes and long, excruciating acts of self-flagellation and desperate prostration before an angry god.  Repentance I prefer as the idea that change is always possible, as the promise that you can turn and go in a different direction.  I like repentance as a thing of hope, not the screaming and crying of an oppressed subject begging for mercy.  

Love

I really dislike the thought of doing good because you hope to receive some sort of reward or avoid a punishment.  You should do good because you love and because from your love springs a desire to bring happiness and light into the lives of the peoples whose lives touch yours.  For this reason, I am not a big fan of the parable of the sheep and the goats, where Jesus divides people into two groups-- people who have been selfless and kind to others (sheep) and people who have been selfish and unkind (goats).  Then he spitefully rejects the group of goats.  He tells them, "Depart from me, you cursed, into the eternal fire which is prepared for the devil and his angels."

I dislike this scripture because (1) Isn't Jesus supposed to be patient?  Wasn't he sent here to help us?  Wasn't he sent to the sinner, to lift them out of their sorry states?  What is he doing, so callously labeling and condemning people?  Can't he cuddle the goats, and scratch behind their ears, and feed them a treat, and show them how to be kind?  What is up with the burning?  and (2) If is supposed to be motivational, then it's a craptastic kind of motivation.  I think you're supposed to read this and then grab your jacket and head out the door to clothe the naked and feed the hungry and visit the imprisoned.  But that puts a selfish twist on acts of kindness.  It moves acts of love from, "I'm visiting you because I care about you" to "I'm visiting you -so I don't go to hell.  You know those eternal fires...always a-burning!"

I've been thinking a lot about motivation for making moral choices since reading The Sociopath Next Door by Martha Stout.  People can choose to do the right thing for a variety of reasons, the primary ones being:

-Thought of consequences (positive and negative)
-Attempt to maintain self-concept ("I'm the sort of person who________")
-Concern about others' perceptions of yourself.
-Love (for self or others)

I would like to become the sort of person who almost always acts out of love.   This will be tricky, because I don't want to be the sort of person who does nice things because she wants to be the sort of person who does things out of love, but rather because I really do just....love.  This is my goal.  To just love.

I love love.

Thriving

I recently read a blog post in which the author, a young mom, described a conversation she had with her husband while they were scheduling their week.  "What can I do to help you?"  he asked, and she said, "Well, to be sane I need...."  and she listed a few things.  But then her husband said, "April, I don't want you to just be sane, I want you to thrive." 

Super sweet, right?  

But that got the squeaky little wheel in my brain a-turning.  Thrive, eh?  Thrive?  Could I possibly thrive? What do I need to thrive?  So I made a list, because I love lists and they make me feel safe.   

My Thrive List
-Eight hours of uninterrupted sleep most nights, plus one good nap a week.

-Love
-Time to think
-Meditation

-Writing Time

-Music Time

-Reading Time

-Vigorous Exercise at least three times a week

-20-30 minute walks most days a week

-Solitude

-Friends

-Family

-Poetry

-Freedom from whining

-The right to say ‘no’ without guilt or badgering.  

-A clean house

And then I sighed.  Like I'd get all of that.  I've got children.  And a job.  And a house.  And a church.  I don't have time for solitude and poetry and saying no! 

But then I started thinking that maybe I should make the time. 

My coworker girls and I recently went to see The Lucky One, starring Zac Efron.  It was a typically ooey gooey chicky flicky romance, and quite enjoyable (except for an overly long sex scene that made me start to feel like a creepy voyeur), but there was one line in the film that struck me: 

"Sacrificing everything for your children isn't selfless.  It's stupid."   

(To add context:  This was said by the feisty grandmother of the main female character, Beth, who had just ended her relationship with this very sexy, broody-but-tender soldier man named Logan (Zac Effron) because her ex-husband was threatening to take away her child if she continued seeing him.)

But anyway, the grandma said this and I was like, "Whaaaaa....?"

And while I was still saying "Whaaaa....?", Beth reacted just the way I would have.  She threw something and shouted, "I'm doing the best I can!"

And I was like, "Yeah!  Leave her alone!"

(WARNING: SPOILER ALERT)

But then Beth decides to stand up to her stupid ex-husband and then sexually assaults Zac Effron in a shower and, well, you know-- romantic things like kitchen dancing and sun-drenched boat rowing ensued, and everyone lived happily ever after, especially after Beth's worthless ex-husband ends up drowning despite Logan's heroic attempts to save him. 

(Nicholas Sparks?  How did you get so in touch with your feminine side?)   

But long after the movie ended, I was still thinking about that line.  "Sacrificing everything for your children isn't selfless.  It's stupid."  Is is really stupid to sacrifice everything for your kids? I wondered.  Isn't that what we mothers are supposed to do?  

Well, yes.  And no.

There are things we as mothers are supposed to do-- love and discipline our children, provide them with healthy meals and warm beds, read them stories, support them in their interests, comfort them when they're scared and sad, teach them how to take care of themselves and be good people and work hard.  But that doesn't mean that we stop being people in our own right, that we are supposed to sacrifice everything we are and all our time and all our interests and desires in the name of fulfilling their every whim.

There is a BALANCE.  A happy medium.  And I've never been good at balance and happy mediums.  But after years of going and going and going and not properly nurturing myself I have found that I have reached the bottom of my well.  I have drawn all the water and am now scraping around in the mud, trying to find something good to give to someone.  The words spent and exhausted and depleted have taken on all new meaning for me.  I find myself grasping desperately at the resources of time and sleep.  Worse, I sometimes find myself resenting other peoples' happiness.  And that is something I do not like one bit.  I want to celebrate others' joy, not slink around all darkly whenever something good happens to someone else.

So I've been trying to figure out the minimum that I need to do to fulfill my role as a mother.  As a person who likes to go above and beyond, this has been difficult.     But when I think of the things I want to give my children, long term, three core words come to mind:

JOY
LOVE
RESPONSIBILITY

It is my job to do my best to give them these gifts.  But it is also my job to make sure that I have them as well, partially because of the truism that you can't give your children something you don't have-- and also because of the simple fact that I am a person too.  I am also someone's child.  And I know that those someones (and Someones) want me to be joyful and loving and loved and responsible.

So instead of giving every scrap of spare energy to my family, I've decided to set some minimum standards and aim for those instead.  Obviously I need to make sure the children are getting adequate sleep, are provided with regular healthy meals each day, are picking up after themselves, understand their consistently enforced limits, and are practicing good hygiene.    

In addition to that, I feel like I should do the following:

Most Days:
-Wake up and have breakfast with the kids
-Read stories
-Have family scripture study and family prayer
-Have family skills training (teaching the children a social skill or coping skill)
-Family Dinner
-Bedtime Routine

Weekly:
-Play with the kids for 1-2 hours
-Family Home Evening, including a fun activity
-One-on-one time with one boy (while Abe spends time with the other boy).

 Twice a year:
-Family vacations

This doesn't mean we can't do more things together (for example, the kids usually "help" me cook), but it also means I don't have to feel guilty saying "no" if I've met the minimum standards and they want me to do something I don't want to do.  It means I can slip away one night a month to spend time with the girls.  It means I can take a day off a couple times a month just to be alone.  Or write. Or read poetry.  Or play the piano.  Or go shopping.  Or visit with a friend. It means I can sit and read while my kids whine about being bored (in another room, of course, because I don't want to hear it.) 

This is my version of confronting the ex-husband and attacking Zac Effron in a shower.  Not quite as steamy, but I'm happy about it anyway.  

It REALLY is magic! (part III)

Read part I here. 

Read part II here.


I put him in time-out (calmly) three more times that morning.

After that, the magic kicked in.  And.... suddenly... I was the boss!  It was amazing!  Liberating!  Empowering!  If I wanted to say "no," I said "no."  If I wanted Soren to stop whining, he would stop whining.  Ultimate power was mine!  I threw my head back and laughed maniacally while electrical streams of lightning zapped out of my fingers.  

And now, a month into using 1-2-3 Magic, I find that entire days go by when I don't have to send Soren to his room.  Sweet parenting bliss is mine at last!

The hardest part for me in implementing the program has been remembering that I don't have to put up with obnoxious behaviors.  I'm so used to steeling myself against whining/badgering/tantrums, or saying "yes" when I don't want to, that I forget sometimes that I can take charge.

So, just to wrap this up, here are a few other thoughts I've had while incorporating 1-2-3 Magic into my overall parenting approach:

Validation.  I've tried to balance the no-nonsense approach of 1-2-3 Magic with validation.  I believe that it's important to acknowledge and respect your child's very real emotional responses to situations.  For example, when Soren asks for something and I tell him "no," he'll start to complain and I'll pat him on the back and say something like, "Hon, I know you were really hoping to have marshmallows for breakfast and I know you're disappointed about having oatmeal instead,  but you're going to just have to trust that I love you and want you to be happy and that my love for you compels me to not allow you to have marshmallows for every meal."  And then I'll sweetly add, "That's one."

He usually gets the drift.    

...but don't Underestimate the Importance of Shutting the Old Yapper.  Even before 1-2-3 Magic, I've always tried to be a stickler when it comes to not giving in.  When I say something, I try to mean it.  For the most part, I think I'm good about not giving in to begging/whining/tantrums-- at least, I haven't given Soren what he wanted initially.  But I had definitely gotten into the habit of giving him a sweet taste of revenge by allowing him to get me all kinds of riled up afterwards.  Since 1-2-3 Magic allows me to nip the problematic behaviors in the bud, I don't spew forth all kinds of gratifying emotional response for him.

Also, through making this small change, I've discovered that I spent way too much breath explaining myself.  Constant rationalizing with a child leads them to believe that they only have to comply if you've given them three good reasons to do so; it also opens up long arguments.    I'll say things like "You see, honey, I don't want you to go outside right now because it's raining," and he'll respond with, "But I can take an umbrella," and I'll say something like, "I don't want you to take an umbrella by yourself.  You might break it."  And he'll reply with, "But I'll be really careful with it."  And I'll say, "I'm sorry, I don't want you to be alone with the umbrella," and he'll say, "Then you come with me," And I'll say, "But I'm busy right now," and he'll say, "But I really want to go outside right nowwww!  I really, really, really want to go outsiiiide!"  This continues ad nauseum and (I confess!) he often wore me down.   This was not good.

So I'm not saying you shouldn't ever give a simple explanation when you lay down a law, but I am saying you must remember that don't have to get sucked into an argument about it.

And What About The Ambassador?  (And no, I don't mean that gosh-awful novel by Henry James.)   Early in my reading-about-parenting career, I read in a couple of places that you should think of your child as an ambassador visiting from a foreign country.  When the ambassador made a mistake, you wouldn't send him to time out!  You wouldn't slap his hand!  You would patiently explain that we don't do that thing and then show him something else he could do instead!  I totally agreed with this.  However, when Soren was two, and constantly battering his newborn brother at every turn, I remember thinking, "But what do you do when the ambassador pulls out an AK-47 and blows away some important public officials?  Particularly after you've specifically and repeatedly told him that's not acceptable in our country?  And shown him how to touch the public officials nicely?  You cuff that bastard and throw him in jail, that's what you do!"  

But the truth is, there is no little ambassador.  To make an analogy like that is totally misleading.  Children are children, with completely different brain structures than full-grown emissaries from a foreign land.

That said, I want to make it clear that I am a big believer in using skills training, coaching, and logic to teach children how to make good choices on their own.  It's so important for a child to understand the reasons behind their choices and to learn how to manage their emotions and think through consequences.  Using a skills-training-based approach helps foster independent decision-making skills that will enable children to make good choices even without the external threat of punishment or hope of reward.  For a long time, however, I believed skills training was all I needed in order to be able to properly manage my children's behavior.  I was wrong.

Over time, I have discovered that there is value in using rewards and punishments with children (and by punishment, I mean a "negative reinforcer," a response that occurs immediately with the behavior to create a negative psychological response to the circumstances where the negative reinforcer was introduced; ie, having to go to time-out when you're whining).  My thinking before was that when you use rewards and punishments, you're not necessarily teaching kids to make good independent choices.  This is true; however, what you are doing when you use rewards and punishments is helping children establish a pattern of compliance and develop good behavior habits.  Sooner or later, a child will hopefully be developmentally ready to make positive choices without external motivation, but it can't hurt to already have those good habits in place.

We were able to bring out some very positive changes in Soren's behavior when we started using a reward system about a year ago, not the least of which is that he got out of the habit of hurting Liam every three seconds.   1-2-3 Magic just helps us provide motivation on the opposite end of the spectrum.

So there you have it, friends.  1-2-3 Magic.  It really, really, really is magical.  It even made lightning stream out my fingertips.  You should totally buy it, even if you don't have kids.  It's just that good.

It REALLY is magic! (part II)

(Read "Part I" here.)

It was miraculous.  The concepts were so simple, I felt retarded for not coming up with them myself.

Basically, the "controlling obnoxious behaviors" portion of 1-2-3 Magic goes like this:

Kids want to have stuff and to do things.  Some stuff they can have and some things they can do, but it seems like adults are always telling them "no," those foolish people.  What's so wrong with eating marshmallows for breakfast?  Why can't a person snatch toys away from his brother?  Isn't it fun to play "swimming pool" with the family's toothbrushes?  And children-- especially younger children-- aren't developmentally ready to grapple with lengthy explanations for why they can't have what they want.  All they hear is "NO," followed by a Peanuts-esque "wah-wah-wah wah-wah-wah,"

This means that if a child wants something and is told he can't have it, he won't calmly say, "Oh, thank you Mother, for reminding me to think about my long-term health.  I wouldn't want to compromise my immunity by poisoning myself with processed sugars.  Instead of marshmallows, I think I'll have a big bowl of raisin bran with soy milk for breakfast."  Instead he'll say, "BUT I LIKE MARSHMALLOWS!  AND RAISIN BRAN IS YUCKY!"

A child who has just been denied will often switch into battle mode, reach into his artillery supply, and begin fighting for his rights.  He'll whine, he'll badger, he'll tantrum.   And if it becomes apparent that is not going to win the battle for the marshmallows, a child will often change tactics and go for the second-place prize, which is making The Enemy just as miserable as he is.  Simply getting a big reaction out of the grown-up who just said "no" makes a child feel powerful and somewhat compensates for him not getting what he wants.   It follows that the three worst things you can do while a child is misbehaving are (1) Give in, (2) Persistently use logic try to justify your decisions, and (3) Get emotional.  Instead, you need to train them (like puppies) not to engage in unacceptable behaviors.

The idea behind 1-2-3 Magic is that instead of arguing, then explaining, then getting emotional, then freaking out-- as soon as your child starts exhibiting a negative behavior, you calmly say, "That's one,"  which is shorthand for "This behavior is unacceptable."  Then you wait about five seconds.  If they persist, you say, "That's two."  Which means, "I mean it."  Then you wait another five seconds.  If the behavior has continued, you say, "That's three.  Take five,"  which means it's time for the child to spend one minute for each year of his age in his room (or, if you're not at home, you can pick an alternate consequence, like losing a privilege or leaving the store to sit in the car).  Some behaviors warrant an automatic "3," like hurting and using mean words.  But the whole time the child is misbehaving and you're counting, you don't talk, you don't raise your voice, you don't yell.  You simply count...and calmly send the kid to his room (or carry him to his room, if your child's name rhymes with Boren.)  You (calmly) add minutes for any destruction or name-calling that occurs en route, then completely ignore his freak-out behaviors while he's in time-out, though you don't start timing until he's chilled himself out just a little bit.  After the time-out is finished, you don't talk about what happened, you don't make anyone apologize to anyone else, you're just done.  You move on with your day.  (Rachel Addition:  At a later, more positive time, you could take a few moments to talk about how to handle situations like that more gracefully, maybe do some role-plays, and teach about repairing relationships through apologies, etc.)

And that's the entire first half of the book.  (The first part of the book is about controlling obnoxious behaviors; the second half, which I haven't read yet, is about encouraging positive behaviors.)  I was able to explain all the important parts to Abe in about three minutes.  We agreed to start it the very next day.  I warned Abe that the first 7-10 days might be a living hell while Soren tested the new system.  "We just have to hold firm!"  I said.  And we both braced ourselves, feeling confident that the program would bring about positive change but also feeling confident that Soren would push and push and push to see how serious we were about it.

The next morning at breakfast I told Soren that we were going to start doing something a little different.  I told him, "You know that it's not okay to whine and throw fits and hurt people.  So from now on, whenever you start behaving in a way that's not okay, I'm going to say 'That's one.'  That means you need to stop.  If you don't stop, I will say, 'That's two.'  That means you really, really need to stop.  If you don't stop, I will say, 'That's three,' and you will have to spend five minutes in your room.  If you hurt someone or call names, you will have to go straight to your room for five minutes.  But then, when you're done with being in your room, we won't talk about it any more.  Sound good?"  In response, Soren climbed up on the kitchen table and made a visceral growl.  "That's one," I told him.  Then he bit me.  "And that's three," I said, scooped up his angry little body, and carried him to his room while he thrashed around and hit me.

Here we go, I thought.

Part III.

It REALLY is magic! (part I)

I've been doing some soul-searching during the past couple of weeks, trying to figure out what it is about my life, exactly, that is so very exhausting to me.  While completing some ranty freewrites with myself, I discovered that a huge issue was that I felt completely out of control when it came to parenting Soren.  That it seemed like he was more the boss than I was.

The big problem has always been dealing with his persistent and explosive responses to not getting his own way.  I found myself saying "yes" to requests I didn't really want to agree to just because I didn't want to deal with the whining, badgering, arguing, and tantrums that would inevitably follow.   And then there were the times when I said "no."  Observe.    

Soren: Mommy?  Can I have a cookie? 

Mommy: No, Sweetpea.  You've already had enough sweets today.

Soren (switching to whine voice): But I want a cookie!!

Mommy:  Sorry, Babe.  No cookie.

Soren:  Give me a cookie!
Mommy: No.
Soren: But whyyyyyy?  

Mommy:  Because mommy wants your body to be healthy and strong.  A little bit of sweets are okay, but too much keep you from eating the healthy foods your body needs.
Soren: Yeah, but, can I please just have one more cookie?
Mommy: No, Baby.  

Soren:  You're STUPID!  He hits Mommy.  

Mommy:  You do not hit your mother!  Go to your room!

Soren collapses on the floor and starts screaming.  

Mommy:  GO TO YOUR ROOM!

Soren continues to writhe and scream. 

Mommy picks up Soren and carries him to his room while he thrashes, scratches, hits, and possibly bites en route.

Mommy:  THAT IS NOT OKAY!  YOU STAY IN HERE UNTIL YOU CAN BEHAVE!

Soren:  I HATE YOU!

Mommy:  THAT IS A-OK WITH ME!  

Mommy slams the door and locks it from the outside.  Soren lies down on the floor and starts kicking the door.  Mommy tries to ignore this but is completely worked up by all the yelling and screaming and violence that has just occurred.  After about one minute of listening to thunderous door pounding, she freaks out.  She marches over to the door and hollers, :  "STOP KICKING THE DOOR!  STOP IT!"

Soren  responds by screaming like a velociraptor and kicking more furiously.  

"I will kick ALL DAY LONG! AS LONG AS YOU MAKE ME STAY IN THIS ROOM I WILL KICK THE DOOR!"  

"If you keep kicking the door, I will come in there and spank you!"

"If you spank me, I will hit you!"

"OH NO YOU DI-UNT!  DON'T YOU THREATEN ME!  I'M THE MOTHER!"

Mommy storms off and Soren continues to scream in his bedroom.  Mommy frets the whole time, wondering if she should go in and give him a cuddle to help him calm down or if doing so would reinforce this dreadful  behavior.  

This drama could continue for a long time.  And it was horrible.  It left Soren feeling like a bad kid.  It left me feeling like an awful parent.  And it left Liam just kind of doing his own thing somewhere alone.  

I knew this wasn't right....but I had NO IDEA how to fix it.  I've read several parenting books and I work at a counseling center, for Pete's sake, but I was still at a total loss for how to cope with these scenarios.  Most people advised ignoring the whining and tantrums-- and this was NOT working for me.  

But then my co-worker Eric brought a stack of books to work.  Among them was one I'd heard a little bit about before.  It was called 1-2-3 Magic.  I really didn't want to read another parenting book.  But I figured, "What the hell?"  I took it home and read the first half in a single evening.

(to be continued)

Read Part II here.

Read Part III here.  

Preschool Graduation

On May 16, 2012, Soren graduated from preschool.  

Grandma Hanson and Auntie Clee came to the ceremony and even brought gifts!  

Abe photographed the whole performance, I grinned like an idiot, and Liam tried to join in whenever he could.  

On display in the classroom were life-sized self-portraits of each of the children.  

This is Soren's.  

(I don't think I'm going to take this in for psychological analysis anytime soon.  

I really just don't want to know.)  

 The kids sang several songs they'd learned throughout the school year.   

Isn't Miss Misty so cute?  She was the perfect teacher for Soren.  

He adored her and learned so much this year.  

Then each of the kids stood up and told the audience something they'd learned that year.  They would say, "Before preschool, I didn't know_____________________."  And then they'd demonstrate their newly acquired knowledge.  One kid showed how he could count by tens, another proclaimed that he had learned the Pledge of Allegiance.   

Soren's hopped to the front and told everyone that he had learned how to write his name.  And then he demonstrated by writing in the air with a swordsman's enthusiasm   "S....O......R.....E....N!"  (The 'N' turned into a flurry of Zorro scribbles.)  

Afterwards there were cookies.

We're proud of our little graduate.  

Fire Station Field Trip

Soren's preschool teacher took his little class on a variety of field trips this year-- they went to a bakery, the post office, the library, and the fire station.  Liam and I were able to join them for their fire station field trip.   

Each kid had a "buddy" for safety.  Here's Soren holding hands with his buddy.

 Here's the whole class, plus some little siblings.  I am totally digging Baby Gwen's duck face (far left).   You'll notice many of the kids are wearing "Junior Firefighter" badges.

The fireman, Randy Adams, let Soren's classmate try on a firefighting outfit.  

Then they got to look inside a real fire truck!

The best part was when Mr. Adams let all the kids take a turn squirting the fire hose.  

Our town's firefighting force is all volunteer, which means that Randy was kind enough to volunteer his morning to teach the kids about fire safety and fire stations. He was really good at talking to the class in a way they could understand without talking "down" to them. 

Aren't they all so adorable?

Fastballs

I was always going to be a stay-at-home mom.  There was just no other way to raise a family.

I knew that when I became a mother, I wanted to still be a "real" person, with interests and passions and activities that extended beyond the sphere of poopy diapers and Windex and casseroles.  I would have a writing office in the attic of my adorable two-story house.  I would spend afternoons there, authoring books at a wooden desk pushed under a window with a view of the back yard, in case the kiddos wanted to play back there.  But I also knew I would always be home.  Being a mom.  Doing the mom thing.  Like every mom I knew.

When Soren was born, I tried to quit my job to stay home with him full time.  My boss begged me to stay and take care of the office finances for a few hours a week, and I didn't see any harm in taking a few sanity-saving hours away from home to earn some extra money, so I did.  Then I was offered a twenty-hour-a-week position at an inpatient drug-and-alcohol rehabilitation center, the same facility where Abe was working full time.  Abe and I talked long and hard about the impact that my working more hours outside the home might have on Soren and the then-fetus Liam.  We decided it would be worth the extra income.  Just six month after I took that job, the entire facility shut down.

The Clinical Supervisor from the rehab immediately offered me a part-time job at his own business.  I snatched it up.   Pretty soon a full-time position opened up in the company and my bosses offered it to me.  I was grateful to have a way to provide for my family while Abe focused on his Master's degree.  I thought I would be there for a year, max.

That was three years ago.

Abe recently applied for a job at BYU-Idaho.  I knew he was going to get it....I just knew he would.  During the weeks between the position becoming available and the selection process beginning, I set up a daily stay-at-home mom routine in my head.  I decided I would get dressed and put on shoes first thing in the morning, to keep myself productive.  I got excited about how CLEAN! I would be able to keep my house. I imagined all the science projects the boys and I would do, all the crafts we would make, all the books we would have time to read.  I decided I would start couponing, now that I had extra time to devote to such things.  And I had little daydreams about all the healthy, well-rounded meals I would cook every day.  I started fantasizing about finding a playgroup and making friends with the other stay-at-home moms.  I thought how nice it would be to have a "girls' night out" without feeling guilty about leaving my children for the one millionth time that week.  

On Monday, we got a call from BYU-I.  They wanted to interview Abraham!  Of course they did!  He was the man for the job!  And they knew it too!  The interview went well.

And then, last week, we received an email from BYU-I.   They didn't want to hire Abraham.  He had been  eliminated from the pool of possible candidates for the position.  We were crushed.

Throughout my life, I've had dreams come and go.  I've traded some outlandish dreams for more realistic ones.  I've modified some, forgotten about others.  A few have been put on hold.  I have torn dreams up and thrown them in the trash.  I'd always heard that dreams could shatter, but I'd never seen it happen--until that day.  Sitting there, laptop in lap, an image of the stay-at-home mom dream life I had painted appeared in my mind, unbidden.  And then, as though it had been hit by a crow-bar from behind, it shattered into a million tiny little shards that fell to the ground in an ugly heap.

I cried and we held each other and talked through it.  It's not all bad, we know.  Abe's current part-time job enables me to work four nine-hour days a week instead of five eight-hour days, giving me a delicious extra day to spend on the home and the children.  Because of our family members' willingness to help out, the boys have been able to build strong relationships with their aunties (Collette and Briar) and my parents.  Under Abe's less-than-watchful care, the kids have learned how to be more independent and how to play with each other, probably much better than they would have been able to under my somewhat helicopter-hover parenting style.  Lots of healthy children have been raised by two working parents.  And it's quite possible I would go completely out of my mind if I stayed home full time: I like my job and I love my coworkers.  These things brought us some comfort, a measure of peace, and (left without a choice, really), we've moved on.

But Sunday in Sacrament Meeting a young mother stood up and bore her testimony.  She said that she had recently read a book called Just a Mom.  "I am so grateful to be 'just a mom,'" she said.  "That I don't have other responsibilities outside of my work in my home with my children.  I'm so grateful I can stay at home and focus on them."  I'm happy for her too. I know this mom and love her and think she's doing a wonderful job with her little ones.  But hearing those words spoken out loud just crushed my heart.  I had three minutes until I had to get up in front of the whole congregation and play the organ for the closing hymn and I had just turned into a mascara-smeared bawling mess.  It wasn't pretty.  I pulled myself together as best as I could  but as I was finishing up my prelude music, Abe came up from behind and whispered to me, "You are a wonderful mother.  You're doing a wonderful job.  You do a lot more with our children than many moms who have full-time access to their kids."  That he knew exactly what had made me cry made me cry even more.  Soren joined us on the stand and demanded to know the reason for my sob fest.  I told him I was sad that I couldn't stay home with him every day.  And he said, "But, Mommy!  Today is your day off!  It's okay."  And he wrapped his little arms and legs around me just as tight as he could.  

Being a working mom is hard.  It's hard because there's so much to do and so little time to do it in.  But stay-at-home moms are busy too, stretched thin and exhausted.  I know this.  I think the thing that makes working outside the home extra hard is the sadness that comes from knowing how much of your precious resources are not being pumped directly into the heart of your family.  There's so much I want to give my boys.  So many ways I would rather spend that thirty-six hours a week.

This past week I learned about a way to eliminate power struggles with Soren.  I learned how to say "no" and have it stick, without having to cope afterwards with hours of whining and crying and badgering and screaming, etc. I've been using it, and it's been working, and it's been liberating.  (Liberating!)  I will blog more about this later, after I've used it for a while.  I find, however, that even with my new found parenting power, I really struggle to say "no" when one of my boys asks for my time or my attention.  Even when I'm completely exhausted, even when all I really want is five minutes to slip into a mini-coma, even when I really, really, really don't want to, I usually give them whatever time or attention they want.  This is hard on me-- and  it's probably not really good for them, either.  But I can't put my child in time-out for begging me to come outside and push him in the swing.  I just can't.

So I think that's my number-one challenge in trying to work full-time while nurturing my little family-- figuring out when it's okay to let go and do some things I want to do when I already feel so intensely guilty for being gone as much as I am.  Or maybe finding ways to "be a real person" that don't bite into kid time or work time or sleep time.

So, yeah.   Life has brought me challenges I didn't expect.  I guess it does that to everyone.  And solutions to our problems and concerns are often nebulous, ambiguous, and/or elusive.  There are often no cut-and-dried answers to our biggest questions.  This is something that often makes me want to take Life by the neck and strangle it; it's also one of the characteristics I adore the most in Life.  I kind of like that Life keeps me hopping.  One of the things I'm always telling Soren is that even when things are hard, he can do them, because he can do hard things.  It's something I tell myself a lot.  I love knowing that I can do difficult things (or, at least, things that seem difficult to me).  It makes me feel strong and competent and capable and empowered.  So, thank you, Life, for not allowing my life to go exactly as I planned it.   Thank you for throwing a fastball instead of lobbing the ball over the plate for an easy shot.  I may not be able to hit it yet, but I will practice my butt off and one of these days, I will.  And some day, it will be a home run.

Happy Mother's Day!

What Happiness Looks Like

My brother Seth left the following comment on my previous blog post about happiness:

"Help me out here Rachel and please tell me... What does it mean to YOU to be happy? I mean, if you don't mind, I'm curious to know what you think happiness is. Your definition of happiness. What does it look like, feel like, etc.? What would your life look like if you were to achieve this elusive state of happiness?"

I sat down and wrote him a long email about my definition of happiness...then, when it was finished, decided that I would share it here on my blog.  

So, in response to Seth's prodding, this is how I would describe a happier version of my life:

• I wouldn't be tired ALL the damn time.  (And while I know that some of my fatigue comes from occasionally waking up at night with kids, I think a good portion of it is a result of some of my psychological choices.  Generally speaking, I get a decent amount of sleep at night, and I exercise regularly and eat decently, but I ALWAYS wake up tired and often want nothing but to sleep after my kids have gone to bed.   I nap pretty much every Saturday and Sunday.   I think I use sleep as a numbing mechanism, a sweet escape into unconsciousness.)

• I wouldn't be held captive by my fears-- the number one being fear of insufficiency, the second being the fear of disapproval/criticism/rejection.  I live in absolute terror of being disliked and/or disapproved of.  Looking back over the past decade I can see that this attitude alone has robbed me of a lot of opportunities for joy in my life.     

• I would truly believe that I am my gift to the world, that the best thing I have to offer the world is my genuine self-- strengths, limits, and everything in between.  I would possess an innate sense of my worth instead of the belief that my worth is contingent on other peoples' approval. 

• I would believe that it is okay for me to feel peace and contentment, even if I haven't achieved perfection or done everything/been everything I'd hoped to do/be that day.  The Buddha, in a conversation with a king about their respective levels of happiness, asked the king if he could sit still for an hour and be happy the entire time.  The king replied he thought he could.  The Buddha then asked if the king could sit still for an entire day and still be content.  The king didn't think he could.   (I know I certainly couldn't!) The Buddha told the king that he (the Buddha) could sit still for an entire week and still be perfectly at peace.  I would like to be at that place...a place where I could feel peace even if I hadn't done anything to "earn" it.  If I were content with myself and my inherent worth, I believe I would be able to always (rather than sometimes) do good things out of a place of genuine love, rather than a frantic desire to make myself worthy of love/approval/happiness.  And I think that means believing that I am already okay.  Just as I am.  

Of course, there are barriers to becoming happy.  For one, adopting an attitude like this takes a tremendous leap of faith-- faith in my own goodness, faith that if I let go of my fear of inadequacy that I will still be adequate.  And there is also the question of practical application.  How do I come to a place like this in my heart?  How do I develop a belief in my own goodness?  How do I release my fears of disapproval and replace them with love and compassion for myself and others?  

P.S. Yes, there is a lifestyle I would prefer-- which I described in detail in my "Miracle" post-- but I know that happiness comes from within, not having ideal circumstances occur without.   

Video Share: 23 1/2 hours

I really love this summary of how simply we can improve our health in just 30 minutes a day.

Happiness

So, happiness.

I've realized recently that I haven't been allowing myself to be happy.  I think I worry that I don't deserve it, so I spend my life trying to make myself worthy for happiness.  But there's always something I could be doing better, some way in which I could improve-- so I don't allow myself the luxury of happiness.  The thinking is, of course, that if I allow myself to be happy I might stop progressing.  And maybe that's why I think there are qualifications for happiness-- because I worry that if people are allowed to be happy despite mistakes that they've made and are making they won't have any motivation for becoming better, for righting the wrongs in their lives.

So I've been thinking a lot about what it means to "deserve" happiness.  Is happiness something we earn?  Does everyone have the right to happiness?  Or are there some people who don't deserve to be happy?  Does a murderer have the right to happiness?  How about a mother who has deserted her children?  Or the guy who flips off anyone who makes him mad while driving?  Or the neighborhood gossip?  Is it okay for her to be happy?   And if there are some people who don't deserve to be happy, what exactly are the qualifications for happiness?  I've been taught my whole life that happiness is a natural consequence of making good choices-- but nobody is perfect.  So how many good choices add up to happiness?

On the other hand, it's possible that good choices spring from happiness.   Alfred Adler taught that children who feel good about themselves make better choices.  I believe this applies to adults as well.   Perhaps if you allow yourself happiness you will desire to make good choices.  If a person were truly happy and at peace with herself, she wouldn't want to murder or leave her children or flip off people or gossip.

For sure, happiness is also a choice.  I think you can make all the good choices in the world and still choose to be unhappy.

So while I am certainly not perfect, I don't think I have done-- or am doing-- anything so terribly egregious so as to have disqualified myself from happiness.  So maybe I will allow myself a little.  Besides, you can't give your children something you don't have-- and ALL I want for my children is their happiness.

Again, I'm reminded of the resolutions I came up with earlier this year:

Delegate.

Seek quiet.

Love.

Trust.

Be mindful.

Let go.

I wrote these and then stopped thinking about them.  I made a few steps towards delegating, which did relieve a little of my stress. But I think it's time to start thinking about them again, more seriously this time.

I'm gonna be happy, dammit.