“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”

Kahlil Gibran

Over the last month, it seems as though Fig has become more attached to me than usual.  She’s sleeping through the night now and I’m down to only two breast-feeds each day, so she may [...]]]>

“Ever has it been that love knows not its own depth until the hour of separation.”

Kahlil Gibran

Over the last month, it seems as though Fig has become more attached to me than usual.  She’s sleeping through the night now and I’m down to only two breast-feeds each day, so she may be feeling as though she has less ‘up-close-and-personal-time’ with Mama.  These days, if she’s awake, she’s glued to my hip, which makes it challenging to leave the house without her.  The girls have only really known one babysitter thus far: my mother.  Yes, we know how lucky we are to have family close by; especially a grandmother who is so willing and wonderful…but that’s another post.

Lately, every time Grandma P. comes over to watch the girls, (which is at least once each week,) Fig immediately starts following me around the house with her arms outstretched, crying, “Mama!”   Fig often has to be wrenched from my arms, before I make a quick exit.   I know that she calms down quickly, and my mom is great at distracting Fig, but it’s unpleasant, to say the least.

One morning Grandma P. managed to distract Fig while I put on my boots and coat, and grabbed my purse.  I waved silently to Mom and she nodded quickly.  Without saying anything, we knew we were both thinking the same thing: that I should get out while the getting was good!

I slipped out the door, walked down the stairs and around the house to my car.  I even sat down in the driver’s seat, and then I thought, “I can’t do it.  I can’t leave this way.”   I hadn’t said good-bye to Pip or to Fig.  It didn’t feel right.  I have always wanted to instill trust in my daughters.  I don’t want them to think that Mama can disappear at any time.  I want them to know that I’ll always be honest with them, and that I have faith they can handle any situation.

So, I went back inside.  My mom looked surprised.  ”Sorry Mom,” I said, “I don’t want to sneak out the back door, I want to say good-bye properly and face the music.”  My mom completely understood.  I gave each of my daughters a kiss and a hug and I said ‘good-bye’ before I left.  And wouldn’t you know it, Fig just looked at me and said, “Bye, Mama!”

Paul Johannes Tillich, The Eternal Now

Pip and I were snuggling together in bed one morning while Big-Daddy-O and Fig were getting a fire started.  ”Mama, [...]]]> “Language… has created the word “loneliness” to express the pain of being alone.  And it has created the word “solitude” to express the glory of being alone.”

Paul Johannes Tillich, The Eternal Now

Pip and I were snuggling together in bed one morning while Big-Daddy-O and Fig were getting a fire started.  ”Mama, are there some families where each Mama has one kid?”

“Sure, Pip.”  I cited a couple of examples of friends of ours.  One family consists of a brother and sister who have two mothers, and the other family has one child.

“That’s what I want, Mama, just one kid and one Mama.  You can be my Mama and Fig can have another one.”  Instead of explaining the impossibility of her suggestion, I tried to probe Pip’s mind a little deeper.

“Why do you want that, Pip?”

“Mama, it’s hard to be a big sister.”

“Tell me what’s hard, Sweetie.”

“Well, all the sharing, I have to share all of my stuff and Fig can reach everything in my room; she wrecks my set-ups and takes the skirt off of Dorothy.”

I promised Pip that we could find a place in her room to store the special toys that were just for her.  I then told her that Fig was a part of our family, we loved her like crazy and she was here to stay.  I reminded Pip of how Fig makes her laugh and how much fun they have dancing together, riding (pretend) horses together, and chasing each other around the house.  By the end of the conversation, Pip had a smile on her face.

It was a good conversation; a good reminder for me that Pip needs her space.  Pip’s bedroom is on the main floor of our home and is much larger than the nursery which is upstairs, so Pip’s room is ‘the toy room.’  She’s never really allowed to shut her sister out of her room because then Fig wouldn’t have access to the toys, puzzles, books, etc.

On top of that, we always insist that the girls share everything.  If they aren’t willing to take turns, then the toy is removed for a period of time.  It’s a decent rule, but I also appreciate that there are some precious belongings that Pip would rather Fig not handle.  Our youngest daughter is not the gentlest toddler in the world and she’s been known to rip the antlers off a moose, de-pop a few ‘pop-up’ books and chew on puzzle pieces.  Pip deserves to have a few toys that are out-of-Fig’s-bounds.

I am a big sister, and I remember spending a lot of time playing with my younger siblings, but I also remember shutting the door to my bedroom and spending time on my own.  I needed my own space.  I still do.  I can certainly relate to Pip’s wishes, and I’m a bit surprised that I haven’t made more of an effort to ensure that Pip has a place to retreat to.  Ah well, sometimes I need to be hit over the head, and luckily Pip was gentle.

Lyman Abbott

Pip surprised me the other day by stomping her foot on the floor when she was frustrated.  It was a case of her not getting what she wanted, and instead of talking about it, she [...]]]> “Do not teach your children never to be angry; teach them how to be angry.”

Lyman Abbott

Pip surprised me the other day by stomping her foot on the floor when she was frustrated.  It was a case of her not getting what she wanted, and instead of talking about it, she stomped her foot.  My instinct was to tell her, “We don’t stomp our feet when we’re angry, we talk about it,” but I understand her impulse.  The other day we were playing at our cousins house and my niece got angry when her space was invaded.  She was instructed to take a time-out, and on the way to her bedroom, she took out her frustration on the piano keys.  It sounded marvelous; passionate and dark, and I thought to myself, “What a great way to express anger.”

My teacher-training and experience have provided me with many strategies for helping children deal with anger.  I always ‘taught’ anger management lessons to my homeroom class.  We’d talk about anger being a natural feeling that everyone experiences and I’d assure the kids that there was no shame in feeling angry.  I taught them that anger served to identify problems, but it wasn’t a good way to solve problems.  We’d brainstorm ways to control angry feelings so that we could get on with problem-solving.  Kids learned to do such things as take three deep breaths, take a step back, seek help, and find the humour in situations.  It occurs to me now, though, that the focus was on ‘controlling’ and ‘managing’ anger, but there wasn’t much literature on releasing anger in appropriate ways.

A few years ago I read an amazing book by Gabor Mate called, ‘When the Body Says No.’  One of the important messages I took away from the book was that our bodies suffer ‘dis-ease’ when we don’t deal with our emotions in a healthy manner.  Suppressing anger, for instance can be very dangerous to your health.  Reading the book changed the way I dealt with my emotions.  I used to swallow my anger in the name of peace-keeping.  I’m not a person who enjoys conflict or drama, (unless it’s scripted, of course,) so I used to avoid it like the plague, not realizing that I was actually doing damage to my body.  The more important issues would live inside of me for awhile and fester until I finally gave them a voice, and by that time they had grown to unwarranted  proportion.  Not healthy.

Now, I tend to express frustrations as soon as they come up.  That way, they are dealt with before they even become  a source of anger.  It’s as though the negative feelings are robbed of all of their power once they’re set free.  My husband and I both feel as though we’re in the healthiest relationship of our lives, and I think the way we deal with conflict has a lot to do with it.

So, not only do I want to arm my daughters with strategies for managing anger, I want them to be able to release their angry energy in a healthy way as well.  Of course it’s ideal if frustrations are identified early on, when it’s easy to problem-solve without anger or tears.  If that point has passed, though, and a child is really angry, there’s no point trying to rationalize with him or her.  It just does not work.  So why not encourage them to bang on a drum, play piano, do some jumping jacks, put on some music, dance, rip up some newspaper, or do something else that will set their ‘angries’ free?  Once they’ve calmed down it’s time to problem-solve.

I think it’s important to have an anger-plan.  Talk about strategies when everybody’s happy, and make sure your kids know what kind of behaviour is intolerable.  (For example, hitting is an automatic ‘time-out’ in our house.)

And make sure YOU have a way to release your anger.  It used to be jogging for me, but my back-health prevents me from enjoying that form of release any more.  Now I find that getting outdoors and going for a walk works wonders, and music also does the trick; just listening to it, dancing to it, or playing along with it is a cleansing experience for me.

Whatever you do, deal with your feelings.  Even if it means an uncomfortable conversation with your spouse, as long as you’re speaking respectfully to each other, it provides a great model for your kids.  They learn that conflict exists in even the most loving relationships, and problems can be solved by talking them through.

(Forgive me if I sounded too ‘preachy’ toward the end there; the ‘teacher hat’ appears from time to time.)

Chinese Proverb

We don’t typically eat dessert, but every once in awhile Big Daddy-O brings home some sugary delight when he goes grocery-shopping.  Last night it was those evil little two-bite brownies.  Ironically, Pip didn’t even know they [...]]]> “The more you eat, the less flavor; the less you eat, the more flavor.”

Chinese Proverb

We don’t typically eat dessert, but every once in awhile Big Daddy-O brings home some sugary delight when he goes grocery-shopping.  Last night it was those evil little two-bite brownies.  Ironically, Pip didn’t even know they were called ‘Two-bite Brownies’ when she took one nibble, then popped the rest of the entire brownie in her tiny little mouth.  I found myself looking at a guilty chipmunk across the table.

“Pip, did you put the whole thing in your mouth?” I asked.

Her mouth was too full to speak; all she could do was flash a gooey, chocolate grin.  ”Oh, Sweetie,” began my husband, “you don’t want to eat too fast.  There’s no rush.  You should eat your dessert slowly.”

Now, those of you who know my dear husband may be rolling your eyes right now because you realize that this is a PRIME example of the pot calling the kettle black.  Firstly, my husband eats faster than our dog, and secondly, he has been known to have two helpings of dessert after consuming three servings of dinner!  Granted, he doesn’t do this on a regular basis, but I’m not exaggerating!

At any rate, I couldn’t possibly let an opportunity like this go by without giving my husband a hard time.  With a twinkle in my eye I said, in my most sarcastic voice,  ”Pip, you should definitely listen to your father because he ALWAYS eats VERY slowly.  He SAVOURS every single mouthful of his dessert; he chews SLOWLY and he NEVER, EVER  puts too much food in his mouth.”

Big Daddy-O chuckled, and Pip, who had finished swallowing her brownie during my little monologue, asked if she could please have another.

“Sorry, Sweetie; ONE brownie after dinner and that’s all.”

“But Mama, I need two desserts.”

“Why is that, Pip?”

“Because I eat a lot faster than Daddy.”

Lord help me.

Martin Luther King Jr.

Lately, it seems that many of Pip’s sentences begin with, ‘I want…’  We’re not sure where the ‘May I pleases,’ have gone, but we’re determined to find them. [...]]]> “Every man must decide whether he will walk in the light of creative altruism or in the darkness of destructive selfishness.”

Martin Luther King Jr.

Lately, it seems that many of Pip’s sentences begin with, ‘I want…’  We’re not sure where the ‘May I pleases,’ have gone, but we’re determined to find them.  Changing Pip’s syntax is a matter of training; with consistency and diligence, we’ll get her back on track.  The more difficult issue at hand is ‘the wanting.’  I’m not talking about general requests like, “I want to go outside,” or “I want a snack,”  I’m referring to the greedy, self-absorbed variety: “I want to go to the store and get a new pony,” and “I want ballet slippers,” and “I want a bike like Tia’s.”

I wonder how best to teach my daughters to appreciate what they have instead of focusing on wanting more.  I want to teach them to shift their focus to the needs of others rather than themselves.  These are lofty goals, I know, but well-worth pursuing.

In my experience, it has been the children who have very little who are the most gracious.  I’ve written often about my host-family in India, and I will tell you that I have never met more generous, altruistic, gracious little children than the ones I met in Jejuri; and they had next to nothing!  I don’t think that Baby, the three-year-old daughter, had one doll.  Comparatively, my daughters have an extraordinary amount of toys, and yet we don’t feel as though we spoil them.  Isn’t that interesting?  I once read that you cannot spoil a child if you are giving of your own free will.  It’s when you give to appease the “I wants” that you end up spoiling children.

Which brings me back to Pip.  She has been ill, and although it’s probably not the best time to start cracking down on her ‘wanting’ behaviour, we’re doing it anyway.  One rainy afternoon when we were all feeling sick, Pip, Fig and I sat down to ‘The Yoga Game.’  It’s a fabulous, cooperative game that was handed down to us by our friends, and we love it!  Fig is really too young to play successfully, but she wanted to be included, so we gave it a whirl.

Once the board was all set-up, Pip picked up the dice and said, “I want to go first!”  Here we go.

“Actually, Pip, the rules say that the youngest player goes first, and Fig is the youngest player.  Please give the dice to your sister.”

“But I want to go first!” repeated Pip.

“You can go right after your sister, Honey.”  Pip’s lip started to quiver as she gave Fig the dice, then she exploded into a crying heap on the floor.”  I chose to ignore the behaviour and focus on Fig.  Fig rolled the dice, then we counted the dots and moved the bumblebee around the board.  We both had to make a tree pose and I giggled at Fig’s adorable attempts at yoga.  She earned a flower for her posing and planted it in the garden.

By the time it was Pip’s turn, she had snapped out of her crying fit and was able to enjoy the game as though nothing had happened.  I decided not to ‘de-brief’ the incident.  It required no further explanation.  I took my turn, then it was Fig’s turn again.

“Mama, I’m not going to make a fuss this time,” said Pip.

“Oh, that’s fantastic, Pip!”  I hugged her and kissed her, which was probably a bit excessive, but I was just so proud of her.  I was also delighted that my decision to take issue with Pip’s ‘want’ paid off.

It’s going to be a long road, and I’m sure we’ll be teaching the same lessons, in a different context, when the girls are well into their teen years, but they may be the most important lessons we ever teach them.

Ambrose Bierce

My daughter is a furnace.  It’s Fall; people are starting to wear toques on their heads and Pip still wants to wear shorts and a t-shirt when she goes outdoors.  She doesn’t like the feeling of clothes on her [...]]]> “Sweater, n.:  garment worn by child when its mother is feeling chilly.”

Ambrose Bierce

My daughter is a furnace.  It’s Fall; people are starting to wear toques on their heads and Pip still wants to wear shorts and a t-shirt when she goes outdoors.  She doesn’t like the feeling of clothes on her body.

I remember the type from my teaching days.  I’d have the students all lined up to go outside for recess and there would be one or two kids without jackets.  I’d insist that they gear-up for the weather, but when they returned to the classroom twenty minutes later, I knew they’d be coat-less.  I remember one young boy explaining matter-of-factly, “I’m hot-blooded Miss Pantuso, so I don’t need a jacket.”

Now it’s my daughter who refuses to wear her jacket.  She likes the feeling of fresh air on her skin; even if the air is chilly.  People have said things to me like, “Oh, kids are so active, they run a lot warmer than we do,” or, “She’ll tell you if she’s cold.”  I suppose those things are true, but right now my daughter is sick.  She has a cold.  She’s coughing and sneezing and requiring nose-blows every other minute, so am I being a responsible parent if I let her go outside in a light sweater when I’m ready for a parka?

My husband frequently reminds me that one doesn’t get a cold by being cold.  (He’s another furnace, by the way.)  I understand that you catch colds from viruses and bacteria, but isn’t your immune system compromised if your body temperature drops?   I know that there have been times when I’ve felt a chill and the next day I wind up with a cold.

Truth be told, I’m a rather cold person to begin with.  My body never felt better than when I was living in the tropics.  I like heat.  My muscles relax, my shoulders open, and my neck grows an inch.  I’m a turtle; a tropical turtle.

I like to think that the saying, ‘cold hands, warm heart’ was created especially for me.  I certainly use the phrase enough when people shake my hand and announce with horror, “My goodness your hands are cold!”  I’ve come to realize that the reason I’ve never been a fan of winter sports is because my appendages freeze so quickly!!!  My husband cannot believe how cold I get.  He finds it refreshing when my hands touch his face.  ”Forget the cold compress, honey,  just touch me.”

So perhaps my daughter and husband have more efficient circulatory systems than I.  Perhaps I should listen to my daughter when she says that she’s warm enough.  And perhaps it will be a long and challenging winter.

Saint Augustine

Pip and Fig both have miserable colds at the moment.  Neither of them are sleeping well, which means that I, too, am overtired.  By about 4:00 pm yesterday, I noticed that my patience was disappearing.  Pip was riding her new bike in the back [...]]]> “Patience is the companion of wisdom.”

Saint Augustine

Pip and Fig both have miserable colds at the moment.  Neither of them are sleeping well, which means that I, too, am overtired.  By about 4:00 pm yesterday, I noticed that my patience was disappearing.  Pip was riding her new bike in the back alley and Fig had decided she didn’t want to walk, so I was carrying her.  Pip needed a slight push every once in awhile after breaking, but she was also afraid of going too fast, so she wanted me to hold the handlebars occasionally to slow her down.  It had been an afternoon of, “No, Mama, you don’t have to push me anymore…Mama, I need you to push me…NOSE BLOW Mama!!!” and “Mama, DON’T let go I’m going too fast!”

I’d interject with, “That’s not the way you speak to Mama…what’s the magic word…and, how could you ask nicely?”  Needless to say, by the time my husband got home from work I was ready for a break.  I passed Fig over to Daddy-O and my arms felt so light I thought they would float right off my body.  The four of us spent another twenty minutes in the back alley together, then I said, “I’m going to go inside and start dinner, you girls stay outside with Daddy and I’ll call you in when it’s time to eat.”

A few minutes after I had entered the house, Pip came into the kitchen.  ”Mama, I came to help you with dinner.”

“Sweetie, you should stay outside and get some fresh-air.  You haven’t seen Daddy all day!”

“NO Mama!  I want to be with you,” she whined.

“Well Pip, I’m talking to your Auntie on the phone right now and it’s good for us to have a little break from each other.”

“I DON’T NEED A BREAK FROM YOU!!!”  She was crying now.  I had hurt her feelings.  She was sick and tired, and I was tired too.  I hung up the phone, dried her tears, pulled her into a hug and she calmed down.

After a moment, she pulled away from our embrace to say, “Are you ready to be a good Mama now and let me be around you?”

Nice.

John Powell

Fig worships Pip.  Not only does she mimic everything Pip says and does, but she also likes to give Pip little gifts.  Especially gifts of food.  If Fig is given a piece of cheese, for [...]]]>

“Human beings, like plants, grow in the soil of acceptance, not in the atmosphere of rejection.”

John Powell

Fig worships Pip.  Not only does she mimic everything Pip says and does, but she also likes to give Pip little gifts.  Especially gifts of food.  If Fig is given a piece of cheese, for example, she’ll ask for two so that she can toddle off and present one piece to Pip.

When Pip involves Fig in her games, Fig is in heaven.  You can see it on her face; she practically glows when she looks at her big sister.

Alternately, when Pip is feeling suffocated by Fig’s love and admiration, she rejects her little sister.  There is nothing more heart-breaking that seeing Fig run toward Pip with open arms, only to have Pip say, “No, Fig, I don’t want to hug you right now.”  Ouch.  Fig doesn’t really know how to handle rejection.  She swings her empty arms back and forth and stares at her sister with her big baby blues.

Truth be told, I don’t really know how to handle this situation either.  I often try to help Pip empathize with Fig.  ”Honey, how would you feel if you wanted a hug from me and I pushed you away?”  Pip will often hug Fig at this point.

Sometimes I focus on Fig and say, “Come here, Sweetie, I’ll give you a hug!” but my arms aren’t quite the same as Pip’s.

I’ve also said to Pip, “We always have hugs for our loved ones,” because she sometimes withholds hugs for relatives and close friends.  I don’t like the idea of forcing affection though, and I never want it to turn into a negative experience.   I’m not about to establish a ‘hug-rule.’

My favourite strategy is simply to tell Pip how great she makes other people feel when she hugs them.  Maybe one day she’ll realize what a gift it is to have the power to fill someone else’s heart with joy.

Albert Smith

Pip seems to cry a lot in the late afternoon.  I think it has to do with the fact that she could still benefit from a wee kip, but she hasn’t had a scheduled nap [...]]]> “Tears are the safety valve of the heart when too much pressure is laid on it.”

Albert Smith

Pip seems to cry a lot in the late afternoon.  I think it has to do with the fact that she could still benefit from a wee kip, but she hasn’t had a scheduled nap for almost a year now.  If she happens to fall asleep in the car for twenty minutes or so in the late afternoon it makes life much more bearable.  Typically, she wakes up at around 7:30 am, and her head doesn’t hit the pillow again for twelve hours.  It’s a long day for a little girl.

Lately, when Pip starts to lose it I’ve been saying things like, “Pip, we can solve anything together!” and, “We’re a great team Sweetie; we don’t need to cry about things.”  I’ve even tried giving her a mantra, “I can fix this,”  but the waterworks have prevailed.

The other day Pip was crying about some infinitesimal matter and I said, “Should we cry about it, or LOVE ABOUT IT???”  and I gave her a big hug.  IT WORKED!!!  She started smiling immediately and the tears shut off as though I’d flicked a switch.

Clearly my grammatical neurons weren’t firing when I coined the phrase, but ‘loving about it,’ might have some legs.  For three days running, when Pip is moved to tears because her shirt-tag is itchy or her hands are sticky or Fig has the blue crayon, I say in a game-show-host-kind-of-way, “SHOULD WE CRY ABOUT IT OR LOVE ABOUT IT???” and open my arms for my emotional girl.  It takes some patience to put into practice, particularly when I’ve ‘loved about it’ twice in ten minutes, but I sure appreciate being able to help Pip nip her meltdown in the bud.

(The ‘Pip nip’ combination is kind of fun, isn’t it?)

A.A. Milne

Last Christmas we bought a gorgeous, second-hand Plan dollhouse for the girls.  It was in mint condition when we bought it, and our daughters have kept it in wonderful shape until this past week when Pip [...]]]> “One of the advantages of being disorderly is that one is constantly making new discoveries.”

A.A. Milne

Last Christmas we bought a gorgeous, second-hand Plan dollhouse for the girls.  It was in mint condition when we bought it, and our daughters have kept it in wonderful shape until this past week when Pip decided to do some interior decorating.  She felt that it needed some lovely blue scribbles on the trim.

When I discovered Pip’s decorations, I felt disappointed, which is odd because it’s not my dollhouse.  Why should I feel attached to it?  Buddha says that all suffering stems from attachment.  Was that why I was upset?  Hard to say.  I am happy to report that I had the presence of mind to calmly ask Pip why she scribbled on the house.

“I decorated the house Mama, isn’t it pretty?” Pip explained.  My daughter and I were looking at the same little dollhouse, but where she saw creativity, I saw destruction.

“Pip, you made some lovely scribbles, but we only draw and colour on paper.”  As I said the words I realized that I was a hypocrite.  A mere twenty-four hours earlier, Pip had been allowed to draw all over the living-room windows.  That’s right.  She received  some ‘window-writers’ at a birthday party and had a glorious time creating window-art.

When Big Daddy-O saw the windows he said, “Whoa.  How many kids are allowed to do that?”

You can understand why I quickly revised my ’scribbling rule’ for Pip.  ”Please do not draw on your toys, Pip.”

“But they’re my toys, Mama.”

Good point.  ”Well, this doll-house was given to you and your sister to share and Fig may not want the house to be decorated.”

“Okay, Mama.”

My explanation would suffice for now, but I was going to have to put some thought into this.  Wasn’t there a successful artist whose parents allowed him to draw on his bedroom walls?  Are we stifling children’s creativity by creating too many rules around art?  I’m not talking about letting kids paint and draw all over the walls of a home, but if a child has been given something, shouldn’t  they be permitted to ‘decorate’ it?  If a bedroom is intended to be ‘their space’ shouldn’t they be allowed to decorate it according to their taste?

Pip ran off to play while I fretted about the potential permanence of the blue scribbles.

“Why don’t you try that special sponge?” my husband suggested as he wandered in to survey the damage.  I’d forgotten about my, ‘Mr.Clean,’ sponge that was supposed to lift crayon off of any surface effortlessly.  This wasn’t crayon, this was ink, but I gave it a try.  At this point I can put my friend Heather, who sold us the beautiful doll-house, out of her misery and announce that the scribbles washed-off beautifully.

As I was scrubbing, Pip ran into the room, put her hand on my shoulder and asked, “How’s the cleaning going, Mama?”

Oh my.