The Grateful Mama » feelings

Expectations

Karen — Mon, 29 Mar 2010 14:00:05 +0000

“The best things in life are unexpected – because there were no expectations.”

Eli Khamarov

When I drop Pip off at Daisytree pre-school two mornings a week, it provides Fig and I with a two-hour chunk of one-on-one time. During the week-long Spring Break, Fig demonstrated a few negative, attention-seeking behaviours and I wondered if she was missing our mother-daughter time. Our first week back at school, I was really looking forward to being able to focus all of my attention on Fig for awhile. I drove the girls to Daisytree, we walked Pip into the school and hugged her good-bye, and then I asked Fig what she wanted to do for our ‘date.’

“Play,” said Fig. She didn’t want to leave the wonders of the Daisytree environment. She wanted to stay with Pip. I tried to entice her with a trip to the park, to the muffin shop, to the playground, but Fig didn’t budge. She liked looking at the worms in the kiddie pool that was in the pre-school’s back-yard. After about fifteen minutes of worm-watching, I told Fig that we had to go. I tried all of the tactics in my arsenal to convince her to leave peacefully, but in the end, I had to pick Fig up and carry her to the car.

I always hate having to physically remove my kids when they’re not cooperating. I feel like a bully: ”Okay, you’re not doing what I want, so I’ll use my size and strength to overpower you.” I know I wouldn’t like to be hoisted under someone’s arm against my will. I do it as a last resort, but it never feels good.

Fig became so upset with me, that she cried in the car for the next fifteen minutes. When we arrived at her favourite playground, she calmed down and we proceeded to have a great time. We played hide and seek, slid down the slide together, told knock-knock jokes while Fig was in the swing, and had a tender cuddle when she fell down a couple of steps. Then it was time to leave. Once again, Fig wanted to stay right where she was. There were more tears, and her general dissatisfaction continued for the next hour. She didn’t want her shoes removed, she didn’t want to wash her hands, she didn’t want me to put her down, she didn’t like the lunch I made, and she didn’t want to nap. You’ve been there. Clearly, this was not the idyllic mother-daughter time that I had anticipated.

My expectation was that Fig and I would have a glorious morning together, and in reality, there were probably as many minutes of crying as there were non-crying ones.

Last weekend I had my first newborn photo-shoot. The New Mom had told me that her week-old bundle of joy slept so soundly in the afternoons, we would be able to place her on any prop and she’d slumber peacefully. With the parents input, I set-up about six different scenarios for the baby-shoot. I even borrowed a bike with a basket, hoping to capture some great ‘baby in the basket’ images. Both the parents and I had very high expectations, but the baby had other ideas.

She was awake for the entire photo shoot, and she was definitely not happy about being placed, naked and alone, upon strange new surfaces. Who could blame her? She wanted to be clothed and swaddled and cuddled. Isn’t that what all newborns want, and deserve?

And who could blame Fig, for that matter? No-one. Fig is a normal two-year-old, making sense of the world and trying to make her wishes known and respected. She is asserting her independence, and it’s a healthy, encouraging part of her growth.

Both situations have me examining the whole notion of ‘expectations.’ This is not a new theme for me. Sometimes it’s helpful to have high expectations, because it encourages me to achieve wonderful things. When they’re too high, however, the disappointment can alter the enjoyment of the experience.

If I look back on these two experiences and erase my expectations, I feel hugely satisfied. The photos captured during the newborn shoot are precious. I love looking at them. The beauty of this little family is overwhelming. (www.pantusophotography.com.) Likewise, being at the playground with Fig was a lovely experience! She adored having all of my attention and we shared a lot of laughs.

It brings to mind the wonderful Ekhart Tolle books (that I need to re-visit) about living in the moment. How can I be bothered with expectations when I’m fully present in the now? It’s one of my biggest challenges in life. To simply live in the moment.

I’m up for it.

Sneaking Out the Back Door

Karen — Mon, 08 Feb 2010 15:00:17 +0000

“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!”

Sensitivity

Karen — Mon, 11 Jan 2010 15:00:35 +0000

“The moment you say ‘I know everything’ is the end of your growth.”

Sharon Lee

Pip singing, "Somewhere Over the Rainbow," for parents, teachers and friends at her pre-school's Christmas party. (Thanks to Lori for snapping the photo)

“Pip, you need to put some clothes on,” is a phrase I find myself uttering, not just in the morning, but several times a day. My daughter simply prefers to be naked. Oh, we insist on underpants, but that’s about all we can get her to consistently wear. It doesn’t help that we have a toasty warm fire burning in the living-room fireplace throughout the day. When we arrive home from pre-school, or some other daily outing, Pip strips down to her underwear, takes either a toy or books into the living room, and plops down on the carpet in front of the fire.

She says that clothes are ’scratchy.’ Thus, we only buy ’soft’ clothes for her. My sister hands-down the most wonderful jeans and chords from my niece, but Pip will not wear them. She doesn’t like tags on anything; even stuffed animals. Pip doesn’t like people close to her wearing ’scratchy’ clothes either, and she won’t hug me when I’m wearing my favourite wool sweater.

Pip is a sensitive soul. From the time she was only a few months old, I knew that she was an observer. I remember taking her to a baby music class when she was about 10 months old and being surprised at the fact that she didn’t want to participate. She loved music! We sang and played instruments at home all the time, but during the music class, she just wanted to sit on my lap and watch what was going on around her. This behaviour continued week after week and by the end of the session she had just started to feel comfortable enough to take part, but even then, it was only the familiar activities that she enjoyed.

My husband and I have never wanted to label Pip as being ’shy,’ but new people in her life will often say, “Are you shy?” or “Don’t be shy,” if she doesn’t engage with them right away. I don’t like it, because I feel that she is being misunderstood. She is a confident, happy little person, but she likes to observe people and situations before she acts. She’s also incredibly empathetic. If a child is upset on the playground, or if her little sister is out of sorts, Pip’s eyes will well up with tears. Empathy is a wonderful trait, but it must be exhausting for Pip to take on the emotions of other children.

Does any of this sound familiar to you? It was only recently that it all made sense to me and I came to a new understanding about my daughter and myself. Last summer, my insightful cousin Sheryl read a book about ‘Highly Sensitive People.’ She said that it made her think of me and Pip. It took me awhile to get around to it, but I finally looked at the author’s website. I read through the checklist for ‘Highly Sensitive Children,’ and Pip exhibited almost ALL of the character traits.

I had many, ‘Aha,’ moments as I sifted through the information on the website, because it turns out that I possess many of the adult ‘HSP’ traits. It was enlightening, and also incredibly comforting. Especially this bit:

Your trait is normal. It is found in 15 to 20% of the population–too many to be a disorder, but not enough to be well understood by the majority of those around you.
It is innate. In fact, biologists have found it to be in most or all animals, from fruit flies and fish to dogs, cats, horses, and primates. This trait reflects a certain type of survival strategy, being observant before acting. The brains of highly sensitive persons (HSPs) actually work a little differently than others’.
You are more aware than others of subtleties. This is mainly because your brain processes information and reflects on it more deeply. So even if you wear glasses, for example, you see more than others by noticing more.
You are also more easily overwhelmed. If you notice everything, you are naturally going to be overstimulated when things are too intense, complex, chaotic, or novel for a long time.
This trait is not a new discovery, but it has been misunderstood. Because HSPs prefer to look before entering new situations, they are often called “shy.” But shyness is learned, not innate. In fact, 30% of HSPs are extraverts, although the trait is often mislabeled as introversion. It has also been called inhibitedness, fearfulness, or neuroticism. Some HSPs behave in these ways, but it is not innate to do so and not the basic trait.
Sensitivity is valued differently in different cultures. In cultures where it is not valued, HSPs tend to have low self-esteem. They are told “don’t be so sensitive” so that they feel abnormal.

The author’s name is Elaine Aron and her homepage can be found at: www.hsperson.com/index.html

I don’t know if this information is of interest to people who aren’t highly sensitive, but this learning experience has reminded me, yet again, what incredible teachers my daughters are and how much I have to learn.

I’ve come to a deeper understanding about Pip, as well as myself, and I’ve found a great resource for both of us. I’ll be better equipped to help Pip when her eyes water because some child on the playground is crying. I’ll be more tolerant when she refuses to wear a new shirt. I’ll also be easier on myself. (Thank you, cousin Sheryl!)

In the end, I think it all comes down to acceptance. Acceptance of our kids, our spouses, our parents, ourselves…not judgement, but acceptance. Amen to that.

A Conspiracy of Love

Karen — Mon, 30 Nov 2009 15:00:18 +0000

“Blessed is the season which engages the whole world in a conspiracy of love.”

- Hamilton Wright Mabi

Now that I have an opportunity to write, I’m realizing that I really missed my daily postings last week! It reminds me of when I moved away from home to go to the University of Alberta and my sister didn’t shed a tear when I left, but she bawled like a baby when I returned home for the Christmas holiday.

Sometimes you don’t realize how much you’ve missed your love, until you are reacquainted.

I have four ideas for posts today, but I’m going to write about my first Santa-photo-shoot because I’m just so excited about the entire experience. Not only was the actual ’shoot’ fun and exciting, but the processing and packaging was fulfilling as well. As I slipped each photo into a greeting card I imagined how the parents would react when they opened the envelopes and saw their little beauties on Santa’s lap. Some images were hilarious, some were sweet, and, as I prepared each photo, I learned that just the idea of providing parents with a lasting image of a precious moment in time really rocks my world!!! My next photo-shoot isn’t until next Saturday, and already I cannot wait to get back at it!!! It’s a good sign.

What I really want to write about is Timothy. He showed up after the shoot was over and Santa had left the building, (with a very happy-looking Mrs. Claus I might add,)

“Is Santa gone?” he asked.

“Yes, I’m afraid so.”

“Will he be here tomorrow?”

“No, but he’ll be here next Saturday,” I said as I packed up my equipment.

“Oh. I won’t be able to come next Saturday. Do you take the pictures of Santa?”

“Yes.”

“Can you give him my list?”

Timothy reached into his pocket and pulled out his carefully written Christmas list. Now, I had anticipated that I would have a good time taking photos of kids, I suspected that I would enjoy watching the magical exchange between Santa and each child he conversed with, but I didn’t expect that a child would consider me a part of that magic. Timothy surprised me by assuming that I had a direct line to Santa.

“Of course,” I said, checking the list, “is your name on it?”

“Nope; my name’s Timothy.”

“Okay Timothy.”

I have the list in my camera bag and will most definitely give it to Santa, along with some special-secret- signal. With any luck, Timothy will make it to the mall one Saturday before Christmas, and wouldn’t it be grand if Santa pulled Timothy’s list out from his pocket?

The Happy Clauses

The Sleepover

Karen — Tue, 17 Nov 2009 15:00:33 +0000

“In the final analysis it is not what you do for your children but what you have taught them to do for themselves that will make them successful human beings.”
– Ann Landers

Pip wanted to play with her cousin last week and I explained that she was having a sleep-over at Grandma P. and Grandpa R.’s house. That was all it took. The seed had been planted; Pip wanted a sleep-over. We called Grandma P. to arrange a date and Pip started counting the days.

Now my parents are only a ten-minute drive away, but it was a big deal for Pip to sleep away from home. My husband and I haven’t gone on any trips together (yet) without the kids, and any time my mom has baby-sat for us, she has come over to our house. The plan was for my mom to pick Pip up at 2:30 pm on Friday so that they could enjoy the afternoon together, before having dinner. Pip would spend the night with her grandparents and we’d pick her up Saturday morning.

My mom had said to me on the phone, “Now this could be a huge success, or a complete disaster,” and I agreed. Pip had surprised me with her independence before, but she had also cried Thursday night after I left her bedroom because she missed me. One never knows how these ‘firsts’ are going to go. I had told Mom that it would be nice to say goodnight to Pip on the phone, but we agreed that Mom should initiate the call instead of me, just in case there were any rough patches.

I’ll tell you right now, the sleep-0ver was a huge success; for Pip. What my husband and I were not prepared for, was how much we would miss her! I’ll never forget the look on Big Daddy-O’s face when Grandma and Pip drove away from our house. I was standing at the door with Fig, trying to ignore the ridiculous tears forming in my eyes, and my husband gave me a look that I’ve never seen before, and I’ll not soon forget. It was a surprised, emotional look that said, ‘Can you believe how hard this is?’ He yelled up at me, “She just left and I already miss her!”

It felt so strange to be a family without Pip. Both my husband and I have been away from Pip for at least one night before, but it was a different experience to be at home, going through our normal rituals as a family without our eldest daughter. Of course we enjoyed our time with Fig, and I must say that she was in her element. She didn’t mention her sister once, she just lapped up all the undivided attention we were showering upon her.

When Fig was in the tub, both Big Daddy-O and I were in the bathroom with her, and I said, “I hope Pip calls soon.” My husband laughed.

“I bet we’re going to be saying that a lot when she’s fifteen.”

“Seventeen.” I countered.

Pip did indeed call shortly thereafter, and her voice sounded small and happy. It was pretty special for Pip to have Grandma and Grandpa all to herself. It was also special for our second child to have her parents all to herself. In the end, I think everyone benefitted from the sleep-over. It’s a brilliant feeling to know that there’s a place, other than home, where your child feels safe and well-loved and happy. Thanks Mom and Dad.

Anger Plan

Karen — Tue, 10 Nov 2009 15:00:02 +0000

“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.)