I am very lucky to be a part of a large community of peaceful parents. Any time I am struggling with a particular parenting problem, I can turn in almost any direction and receive thoughtful advice from people I trust. We even have a monthly "gentle parenting" brunch, which serves as a forum for discussion, a safe place to vent and a relaxing morning out with friends to recharge. You should definitely come. Because of the community I am a part of, my social media feeds, as well as my daily life, is often filled with anecdotes of all the ways peaceful parenting results in peaceful children. It is honestly lovely. Even I feel the urge to brag on my children when they model empathetic listening, emotional intelligence, self-regulation or another skill we have been working hard on together. It is exciting to feel like it is working. I want to point at them and jump up and down and shout, "See? SEE? It is working!! IT. IS. WORKING!" I do believe it is "working," in a way.
I do not always see the results though. In fact, most days, I do not see them at all. Liam was an easy toddler. I was able to convince myself that his communication skills, cooperativeness and sweet disposition were all a direct result of my amazing parenting. If you return to around 2011 on my Facebook timeline, you will discover a lot of gentle parenting endorsements: "Today, Liam took a break without me even suggesting it because he felt out of control. Yay for gentle parenting!" "Whenever another child is upset, Liam runs over to comfort them. He is so loving. I am glad we have always responded compassionately to his tears. Model, model, model, friends!" "Liam told me today that he was so angry that he wanted to destroy the house, then asked for a hug. Even when he is angry, he knows I am his safe place, and I am so grateful we have taught him violence is never the answer." "This morning, Liam told me I am the best mommy in the world and thanked me for following attachment parenting principles because he is aware that the way we are raising him is superior to any other form of parenting ever. He also said he feels sorry for all the sleep-trained, spanked kids who are forced to eat McDonald's for dinner and asked us to adopt them all. #soblessed" I may be exaggerating, but only slightly. The first three years of Liam's life could have been used in a book on positive discipline as a complete success story. Your child can be this fabulous too, it would say, just follow these easy steps! Then Liam turned four. I am fairly certain he woke up on his fourth birthday and decided it was time to rage against the machine. He was suddenly pissed off about pretty much everything and he has remained vaguely in this state ever since. He is still funny and smart and wonderful, but he is also just surly enough to completely topple my delusions of grandeur. In addition to Liam's new disposition, Dexter joined the family. Unlike Liam, Dexter was born angry. In the beginning, he was angry that sleep was a required bodily function and that he was stuck in a useless infant body. As he got older, his anger evolved to include all of life's injustices: outlet covers, bed time, car seats, brothers, vegetables. He started biting as soon as he discovered his teeth and started hitting and kicking the moment he gained control of his extremities. He throws things. He draws on the walls. He runs into traffic. He laughs when people cry. Just as I could have held Liam up as an example of the success of gentle parenting all those years ago, I could now point to Dexter as a testament to its complete failure. "Dexter had a meltdown at the park because he wanted fruit snacks. I did not have any but I tried to help him label his feelings and take deep breaths. He spit at me and slapped me across the face." "Dexter bit his friend today. When I picked him up and told him I would not let him bite, he laughed and said, "That's funny!" "Dexter was having a hard time with the boundaries I set so I offered him a hug. He called me, 'Bad mommy!' and ran away to punch his brother in the head. #soblessed" These are not the sort of anecdotes you will often see positive parenting gurus share with the world. These are not even the sort of things I want to be sharing with the world. It does not sound like a good example. It sounds like madness. It sounds like failure. I do not believe it is failure. This is what I believe: the way I treat my children is not about controlling my children's behavior effectively, or even about teaching them how to behave, it is about me being the sort of person that I want to be while I am on this planet. As a mother it is my job to guide and protect three other entire human beings during one of the most vulnerable stages of their lives. It is an important job but it is one that has been done in an infinite number of ways, all with varying degrees of success. Because of many contributing factors, my children will more than likely grow up to be relatively functional adults with both positive and negative attributes, regardless of my parenting method. Of course I hope that our values will be passed on to our children, but I did not choose to parent this way so that I could pat myself on the back any time my child makes a choice that resembles a value I have modeled for him. I have chosen to parent my children gently because I want to be the sort of person that treats other people gently. We all want to believe that our chosen parenting method is working and, of course, we all feel proud when we see our child model a value or use a skill that we have taught them, but, sometimes, I worry that by pointing to our children's positive behavior as "proof" that gentle parenting "works" we are sending the message out into the world that treating the people we love with kindness and respect has value only because it yields quantifiable behavioral results. I believe that the value in peaceful parenting is that you are parenting peacefully. I do not treat other people with respect because I hope that they will one day follow my example. I treat other people with respect because it is the right thing to do. My boys are not often a beautiful representation of the "results" of gentle parenting. I am okay with this, but I do think that the gentle parenting community needs to be willing to talk about it more candidly. It feels better to talk about the children that we can point to and say, "See? It is working!" or to wrap up the story in a tidy bow of eventual cooperation, mutual respect or demonstrated understanding. But some children do not follow these rules- my children do not follow these rules. I worry that for parents with children like mine, a lack of the expected results can lead to feeling like they are doing something horribly wrong, but you simply cannot go wrong in choosing to treat other people with dignity and love. There are no guarantees in life and there are no guarantees in parenting. Some kids will absorb the fundamentals of positive parenting like a sponge; some kids will absorb them more like rocks. My children are rocks. They have rough edges and challenging dispositions. They still matter and how I choose to treat them still matters. I truly believe that even my snarling, exasperating little darlings will one day grow into good-hearted men. I believe that they will do this because they have decent genes and fortunate conditions and healthy support systems and parents who desperately love them. In the meantime, I will continue to show my children compassion, empathy and gentle guidance, not because of who I believe it will help them to become one day, but because of who I want to be right now.
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Spring in the South means one thing: Strawberry Pickin'. Actually, it probably more accurately means: Pollen. But strawberry picking sounds far more pleasant, don't you think? Unfortunately, Chattanooga has a shortage of pick-your-own strawberry patches, but we were able to find a family farm about 20 minutes away and this week they announced that the berries were ready for picking! The weather was perfect for picking (and eating) strawberries. We joined our friends and the boys lasted an entire thirty minutes before Rory grew tired of being on my back and Dexter started running into the electric cattle fence repeatedly and Liam began a steady stream of whining. Thirty minutes of strawberry picking bliss is a win in this season of our lives. Liam chose exactly nine strawberries that he felt were adequate for picking. He then proceeded to remove every green leaf from the top before placing them carefully in his bucket, complaining a bit that he only had nine strawberries, and then shoving them one by one into his mouth as we walked away from the fields. Dexter was a very enthusiastic picker. His bucket was found to be overflowing with berries of all shapes, sizes, colors and textures. Once I removed the green ones and the rotting ones, I was very impressed with his dedication, especially considering he only ventured to lick two strawberries before declaring them "very yucky" and refusing to taste another. Rory enjoyed the up-and-down ride on Mama's back and the delicious berries he received over the shoulder as we picked. My dream is to one day pick all the strawberries for the year during our picking adventures. We are not quite there yet, but we do enjoy the experience and for a few days we enjoy strawberries for snacking and strawberries in our smoothies and strawberry muffins and strawberry cake. The boys are always proud that they picked the berries and every year we take home a few more than the year before.
We are getting there slowly and, I must say, it is a pretty tasty journey. I will never forget the day I found out that Dexter was going to become The Middle Child. I remember staring down at him as he sat unsteadily on the floor, a positive pregnancy test trembling in my hand. Liam had gone to stay with grandparents for the weekend and we were supposed to be enjoying alone time with the baby- this baby- our baby. He had just learned to sit up independently and he grinned at me proudly, dimples flashing. I just wanted to cry. I thought I was ruining his entire life. Spoiler Alert: I wasn't. Yes, Dexter is the middle boy in a family of boys. Yes, he has an older brother that demands constant attention and a younger brother with special needs that require a lot of attention but this boy is fierce, loud, clever, and wild. This boy makes you want to pay attention. Perhaps this was his personality from the beginning or perhaps he simply learned how to make himself heard, but either way, Dexter is going to be just fine. I do not worry about Dexter at all, but I am always aware of his predicament. Being a toddler can be hard. On top of this, his days are often spent being shuffled from soccer games and homeschooling co-ops to therapy sessions and doctor appointments and not a single minute of it is meant for him. So, I try to always be mindful of carving out time whenever possible to nurture my wild boy, to provide room for him to explore his own interests at his own pace, and to connect with him on a personal level. In the mornings, he crawls into bed with me to nurse and cuddle while Papa gets the other boys breakfast. When Liam is at Forest Kindergarten and Rory takes his nap, we play with trains, draw and watch Little Einsteins because these are the things he loves. If someone needs to run a weekend errand, we only ask Dexter if he would like to go so that he can wander through the store with us, never once being told to hurry along or to slow down. And on Saturday mornings, we go to Music Together to see "La-La." Dexter loves, loves, LOVES Music Together. He waves good-bye happily from the car as he heads to class in the morning, he wiggles with excitement when we pull into the parking lot, he runs as fast as his little legs will carry him to the door, he sings, dances and plays instruments with all his heart, and then he screams and screams when it is time to leave. I will admit that I was slightly hesitant to sign him up at first because I had taken Liam to a different early childhood music class when he was a toddler. We enjoyed it, but I never felt he received any great benefit from it. I am endlessly glad we gave this class a chance. It has been a very different experience. Sharla (or "La-La" as Dexter affectionately calls her) is a fabulous teacher. Dexter has learned a lot in class, but I have definitely learned more. She always takes the time to tell us how different aspects of the class are beneficial and ways to incorporate more music at home. This was one thing that was missing from the other class we tried so many years ago. Clearly, dancing with scarves and banging on drums is super fun, but we could do that at home! What I do not have access to at home is a knowledgeable instructor to share with me ways to make my child's life more musical and why I should. Plus Dexter just loves her. He regularly asks to visit her house, which is a pretty big deal for my little homebody. I also really like the mixed-age classes. The homeschool mom in me will never understand sticking a bunch of kids in the exact same developmental stage in a class together. I just don't think it allows them to learn as much from each other. In Dexter's class, there were babies under one and kids as old as four. The classes are also open to kids of all abilities, which is something that has become increasingly important to me for obvious reasons. I really love the dynamic this inclusivity creates. It is a rich environment that feels less like a formal class and more like friends coming together to make music and have fun. I have never really considered myself a musical person. Papa is the musician. He plays the guitar, he teaches Liam to play the piano and he sings the boys to sleep every night. I have always be content to just sort of let music be Papa's thing. However, music class has really encouraged me to embrace my own musical side. We all sing along to the Music Together c.d. in the car, I make up silly songs to sing to the boys about the things we are doing throughout the day, and we have daily dance parties with Club Radio on Pandora. What I lack in talent, I make up for in enthusiasm, and I can see how letting go of my own insecurities has allowed more music into our lives. Sharla asked if I would be willing to write something up about our experience, and I sort of wish I had something negative to include to balance things out a bit. It has just been an overwhelmingly positive experience. The only negative thing I can think of is that it has been ages since I was able to listen to NPR in the car because not listening to the "La-La" c.d. causes a total meltdown. I do miss my NPR. I think my very favorite part of this experience has been spending Saturday mornings with Dexter. He knows that music class is his special time. His personality really has a chance to stretch its legs and I have some time to enjoy this wild child of mine uninterrupted. Later, as he sings all the words to all the songs he has memorized, he grins that same proud dimpled grin that he grinned at me so many mornings ago as he sat wobbling on the floor while his fate as the Middle Child was sealed. It turns out, life as the middle child isn't so bad at all. If you are local, please check out Shar-La-La Music Together classes. You can attend a free demo class and I really think you will love it. If you are not local, you will be missing out on the fabulous La-La, but you can still check out Music Together's website to see if there are classes near you. It has been such a wonderful addition to our lives. I think you will love it too.
I have had a WordPress blog for over five years. It was not anything fancy, but it was still hard to give up. I sat down one afternoon so very long ago with a tiny Liam in my lap and clicked 'Sign Up!' because I needed a place to ramble unchecked about my new life as a mother and to upload pictures of my boy without invading other people's spaces. I had no idea of all that would fill those pages. It was still waiting for me then. Now they are full and it is time to move on. Even though it is still there for me to read any time I want to, it feels a little bit like leaving something behind. It feels a little bit like saying good-bye to the early days of motherhood. I am six years and three kids into this gig now and even though I still rarely feel like I know what I am doing, I also don't feel so doe-eyed and innocent any longer. It is a little bit hard to move on from that.
I will admit that I am a selfish blogger. I generally forget that other people might read my words. When it is mentioned, I am always surprised and a little embarrassed. Then I have a thought and sit down to write it out, forgetting all over again that someone might read it one day. My blog does not aspire to greatness. It is a love letter to my children and a place for me to capture the ordinary moments that will one day be the backbone of their childhoods. It is a way for others to peek into our world if they so desire. It is also a way for me to ramble about the parts of my life that I find interesting and wonderful, terrible and challenging. That is all this is and all it ever will be. That is enough for me. Welcome. |
WHO AM I?
I am Michelle: a wannabe hippie in love with a bonafide geek. We also spawned. I spend my days with our four wild, beautiful boy children and I overshare about our life online because I am a Millennial and that is what we do.
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