PPC: Marching to the beat of his own drum

(at the Princeton parade. Today he was wearing his rainbow monkey hat.)

Joe was playing softball well into the night in Freeport (a land far far away) so I decided to take Truman to the Milaca parade which goes by Joe's office.

I knew we would have his office as a home base and friends to help.

He was hanging out with other kids, sitting, watching, laughing until several marching bands went by and he decided he, too, would like to be in a marching band.

This wasn't the type of decision that warranted an announcement, he simply took a dum-dum, a new trusty flashlight he has not separated from since discovering it last night at Menards and started walking to the beat of his own drum.

Did I mention he was walking IN the parade?

I tried to contain him. I asked him to stay. I said he could drum here.

But t here was no stopping him (aside from explicit physical entrapment, which, really, never ends well).

So, I shrugged it off and thought, what's the harm in following him.

We walked the whole length of the parade route that was left drumming along.

Maybe some parents would have felt embarrassment -- either because they were in the parade or because they couldn't control their child. Or maybe that is just what I think "normal" parents would think.

But I smiled the whole way. I felt a sense of pride knowing that my son is so willful and exuberant that he was willing to just join in a parade.

After a while floats threw candy, which he collected, then gave to kids along his route.

People smiled and someone said he was the cutest float in the parade.

This could have ended badly, with me dragging him to the car screaming that he wanted to go in the parade, but I suspended all in-grained training of what is "supposed to be" and listened to my instincts about what is really okay and what was motivating my child and went with it.

The gift for doing this for my child is clear, but there was a gift for me, as well. I got to see a pure glimpse of my son in all his glory with all of his outstanding characteristic shining the way they are meant to.

Breastfeeding is normal: Why I won't stop doing "that" in public

Well, it finally happened.

After over three years of continuous lactation I was confronted about nursing in public.

And you would think that three years of La Leche League, nursing in public, knowledge of laws and a general feeling of well being about breastfeeding would have left me lioness-like, ready to defend my child's right to eat without a blanket over his head.

We were watching my older son take his first swim lesson, beaming as he carefully listened and followed direction, giggling a bit as he tried to figure out the more difficult elements of swimming.

Keen needed to nurse, so I lifted my breast quickly out of the top of my shirt as I almost always do and popped him on. I cuddled his arm up near his face as he usually does anyway to offer a bit more cover.

When the lesson was over we were told that he was actually in the wrong class and I stood up with Keen attached to talk to the lady with a clipboard to make sure we got in the right class.

Then she asked me if I could please use a blanket to cover up while I "did that" or suggested I could use the locker room (where there are no seats but toilets and benches in the shower room that are usually wet).

I have supported so many women when they have talked about this happening to them and I thought it wouldn't bother me. But, honestly, when she said it my stomach sank. I got the feeling you get when you are pulled over by a cop and have no idea why. I was in trouble for doing something I knew wasn't wrong.

I also felt like my actions would affect the way my older son would be treated while taking his swimming lessons and was kind of in shock. What could I say?

I knew what I should say but I just wanted to recoil.

I looked at Joe and he recognized my slip into shyness.

He stood up for me.

He told her there were laws protecting our rights.

She looked surprised and almost relieved. She said she didn't have a problem with it, but sometimes people complain, then hinted that those parents don't like their kids seeing women breastfeed.

Then they complain to the lifeguards and it causes them problems.

We said we would print out the law and bring it in and we will.

What I think is particularly interesting about this encounter is the shaming language that was used. Despite her stated comfort with breastfeeding, she called the act "that" and then sought to protect, not the rights of the child who was doing an act she was comfortable with, but the rights of others who were probably swimming showing as much as or more skin than me.

I like to find consensus -- solutions that work for peace between those with different views -- but really is it ever okay for someone to tell me I can't feed my son in public because it makes them uncomfortable? Should I have to change how I act to help them find comfort or should they change their view as the law suggests?

I understand that everyone has different comfort levels with nudity and that many cultures prize modesty. But there is nothing immodest about breastfeeding.

I may wear a shirt with a tank top under it next time, which will allow for more coverage. But I hardly think the top of my breast is what was offensive. After all, we were at a pool where almost all women were wearing clothing that showed part of their breasts. This makes me feel that anyone uncomfortable with me breastfeeding at that moment in that setting was not, despite what they might say, upset by seeing a breast (breasts were everywhere). They were upset by seeing BREASTS FEEDING and that is not okay.

PPC day?: Distractions

This feels like a very apt title for a post about how I have been moving at Truman's pace in order to help him over come some of his fears about change.

He has a really hard time with transitions. I think this behavior has intensified since Keen was born, probably because the birth of his sibling incited whatever part of him is fundamentally resistant to change.

He loves his brother and does not take any of this out on him, which is wonderful, but he has had a really hard time going places, leaving places, getting dressed, getting undressed, etc.

Moving at kid pace, then turning off the TV for good during the daytime has meant a lot of distractions for me.

Things I used to be able to do rushing Truman along or relying on the TV to entertain him for a while I now have to do with interruptions. I used to think this was a terrible thing and that I needed the concentration to be able to complete a task, but you know, when I stopped making excuses and actually tried to do things interrupted without letting my mind panic about it I found it wasn't so bad.

In time I have gotten used to it.

So I have been distracted, continually, from every task I have been doing.

I have also been distracted from this blog. While I have continued taking pictures of the kids almost every day I have a hard time getting them online. I sit down at the computer and find myself letting my mind wander into my own self motivated distractions on Facebook, reading articles, etc.

Following Truman's distractions has been satisfying. When I really take the time to have no schedule and pause when he wants to it is amazing what we find to do. Nurturing this is helping him with other transitions (Saturday we went to church for what ended up being 3 hours, out to eat, grocery shopping and to another store and Truman was content, helpful, non-combative. He never once had a tantrum, even peeing while out.)

If I look at the clock I am always amazed at how long it takes to do something, but when I stop watching the clock I am always in awe of how much can be done in that time.

These years are few. I see that now that I see Keen growing and think about how it wasn't that long ago that Truman was that small and it won't be that long before Keen is as big as Truman and Truman is even older.

I have to embrace this time now in order to quell the fears every mother has that their children will grow up and leave them, never returning. There is nothing that can come of embracing that fear except keeping mindful of the present and appreciating every moment I have with them while they are my babies.

EC Files: 7 weeks

Elimination Communication is an ancient practice of attending to a baby by listening to their elimination cues and helping them to pee or poop outside of diapers. EC Files is documentation of this journey with my second son. Find them all here. Learn more about Elimination Communication here.



Today Keen held his pee for 4.5 hours while we were out and through a nap at home. While I remember Truman gaining a lot of bladder control early with EC, it's still surprising. I fully expected a wet diaper, but hurried him to the potty when I realized he hadn't gone.

Last week he out grew the bucket we were using and I bought him his first little potty. It's pepto-bismal pink because my choices were that or a very drab tan. It's like a baby bjorn little potty but a strange knock-off found at Kmart. The baby bjorn little potty was nowhere to be found and I didn't want another big one or the two-piece one.

I opted for simple.

Truman is still very attached to his baby bjorn big potty but I figure that by the time Keen outgrows this one his brother will likely relent.

Around 6 weeks he started transitioning from pooping every time he peed to pooping multiple times a day coinciding with me realizing that broccoli was not his friend.

He still cues by kicking and sounds and the poop face and arm movements still accompany poops.

He still sleeps diaperless on prefolds, snuggled next to me.

Today I am finding that he is able to pee without waking fully, which is a skill that will helps us nighttime EC and during naps.

Truman did well being taken to the potty at night for a long time, though now we are having nighttime misses that I think are more related to a physiological change in him at 3 than other things.

The change in our family has caused him a few regressions and I think this is one of them.

Perhaps he is learning to love another as we are and that growth in love is distracting him from the potty in the way crawling, walking or teething did when he was young.

Emotional growth can be just as affecting to children as physical even if it is harder for us to see.

I am loving prefolds and covers and am not sure I will want to go back to the Bum Genius diapers we have.

Somehow when he is in a diaper we are both more aware and able to communicate so I keep him in a diaper a lot. I like fitteds with no covers, but we only have a few of those and it is not that hard to put a cover on a prefold.

We have had success out as we did with Truman but the noises of the bathroom, especially flushing, scare him.

I sing to him to sooth him. At first Death Cab for Cutie's Bixby Canyon Bridge was a cue for pooping, now I sing that or this lovely song, often replacing negrito with other phrases that fit to keep it fresh and because I always feel weird calling my very light-skinned child negrito.

These songs are also our lullabies and he does not seem to eliminate while being rocked to sleep. I think he knows they are soothing songs.

He is very soothed by the sound of our voices singing.

He likes to eliminate in the sink because he can look in the mirror. We study each others faces and smile at one another. He is very aware of us and connected.

This Week in Facebook

New feature!

I post day-to-day blurbs about the kids on Facebook but it always bugs me that I don't have an easy way to look back at those memories, so, I will round them up every week and post them here for posterity and future embarrassment.

Okay, I don't WANT to embarrass them but I am sure it will happen:

April 28: Truman decided to go into his own room to go to bed tonight. He is on a camping mat under the glow of his nightlights, with a pair of sunglasses and a flashlight hopefully falling asleep right now. He's growing up.

April 27: Brooke Walsh wonders what is the etymology of Truman's new word, "coocoobuya!"

April 26: Breakfast done; baby asleep; time to get these kids dressed and head to the Y for yoga. I have one hour. The goal is to make it there in a peaceful enough manner that I do not need the yoga simply to ameliorate the getting there adventure. Isn't that always the goal?

We did it. Getting there was relatively easy. I was late but Keen slept the whole time, Truman had fun and my mind is less permeable to whining.

April 25: Do you ever send intentionally vague emails to your spouse about inside jokes hoping they get it? These usually consist of a subject heading clue and link. Will he discover the joke or just think I am nuts? Find out ...

By which I meant this.

Joseph J Walsh Ah, McVitie. You're a first-rate jerk. But you make-a the good digestive cookie. And, apparently, biscuit cakes for royal weddings.

April 24: Happy Easter! Wish me luck in church. I am earning my take-two-kids-to-church-by-myself merit badge.

Joe is singing.

It was pretty good. Getting there involved a few tough moments but we did it. Happy Easter to all!

Joseph J Walsh discovered together with Brooke Walsh that my son has five levels of consciousness today: 1. awake; 2. tired; 3. over-tired 4. over-over-tired 5. "I'm a kitty. Meow."

April 22: Happy Earth Day!

PPC: Revelation!

This week has been my first real week with the two kids by myself.

I had part of a few weeks before but there was always a visitor, a day off work, or something to help me.

It's been fun to be able to get everything back in order the way it runs when it is just the kids and I, but also a challenge to do everything.

Mostly to do things for everyone at the same time.

But I have figured that out by being stronger about prioritizing my time.

The real mystery has been the dreaded late afternoon when my sleepiness combine with my non-napping 3 year-old's sleepiness to create two demanding people who end up yelling at each other.

Okay, some combination of whining and yelling.

After such an incident Monday I resolved on Tuesday and Wednesday to not yell at my child.

That was my utmost goal.

And I failed each day.

Today I realized that this occurs at the same time of day when I am starting to check out a bit because I am tired.

So, I realized:

Instead of checking out if I reinvest I can avoid the spiral into a puddle of mutual frustration.

Today at 3:30 when Truman became almost impossible to please just as I was thinking of taking a break I reinvested. I took a minute to think of something for him to do that would be new, exciting, refreshing.

In this case it was a movie my mom had brought for him when she came that I had hidden away. I pulled it out.

He is watching it, I am resting, whining is at an all time low and yelling non-existent.

We did it.

I don't think it's possible or healthy for me to try to never yell at my son again. It will happen. But I will keep analyzing situations to meet our needs better so we can live peacefully in this family.

When it is warm we will spend these moments outdoors but for now we have gotten over the rainy day hump.

And look, the sun is out. Spring are you there?

Barefoot, earth loving, hippie children

PPC day ninety three: Truman's Zen garden

It's easy for me to write off my child as wild and give up on trying to take him outdoors.

Last Friday we went out around 2 and did not make it back until 6:30. That story is for another post, but was fresh in my mind when Truman asked to go play in his sandbox today.

We don't have a fence so this leaves him open to the world, which in that other post I am going to write is a great thing even if it means more work or worry for me.

But I am learning not to worry.

The thing about my willful child is if I chase him he will run.

This is either because he thinks I am playing a game or because I am putting out the expectation that I think he will run. I am not extending trust and he won't exert the energy it takes to return that trust by staying in a safe radius of where we are.

Today I sat still while he ran and asked him not to go too far.

And he didn't.

While he was playing in the sand I had several more revelations about his behaviors. When I watch him playing calmly — which is to say in control of his behavior, not so much that he is quiet or still, but isn't frantic — I realize that getting him to a place where he is willing to cooperate means guarding him from the activities that lead him to be out of control.

Lots of young children need protection from dangers — from climbing too high, using sharp objects, from the cold, or stairs, or hot things — my eldest son is not like this.

He has a good sense of natural consequences but no innate desire to follow rules. He is fiercely independent and self sufficient.

When he was born I was expecting a baby. I was expecting someone to protect, to guide, to journey with. I am doing these things with him, but it has taken me this long to really see what it is he needs protecting from.

I think it is with simple activities — with slopes of sand, splashes of water and thoughtful building with blocks — that this child finds peace within himself.

And so his sandbox is his little Zen garden.

And it is when he is in these places that I become aware and find my own understandings about who he is and what he needs. It is in these moments that we communicate quietly and without words what we need and find a common ground on which to stand.

I think, too, that having a baby that is what I expected a baby to be, needing protection from the cold, loud, crazy world, I realize that Truman isn't just sloughing off these feelings. He doesn't have them.

Explore the world; dance a jig

Swaddle-baby and his friend the engineer

Some fun details: Keen in his mama made blanket. Truman in his Pam made shirt. Grandma and grandpa's birthday present to Truman.

Unplugging for peace

The title makes it sound like I am about to start a long journey of getting people to turn off the lights to save the world and create peace.

Maybe someday ... ;)

For now it's just for me and I am not talking about lights.

I am talking about this blinking box.

In the weeks leading up to the birth of Keen and in the second week after he was born I spent a lot of time on this thing. I was trying to rest by sitting in a big recliner snuggling my baby and I was using the computer to keep me company.

But then I realized I needed to create more rhythm and actually stick to it.

So I got off the computer and got into being with my boys.

And you know what? It's blissful.

Now when I check my email or facebook I find I am overloaded with the amount of info I have to catch up on and I will have to find a way to manage that.

But for now the most important thing is these little guys and keeping the peace within us all and collectively as a family.

I made a huge list of all the things I think we each need and how we can get these and you know how people say if you write down your goals you will achieve them?

Well, it is working.

My mother in law helped me finish cleaning the basement and I am about to have a home simplified to only the toys we really want that we can actually keep clean.

The flip side of this is that I probably won't be spending as much time keeping up with people or blogging; I will still be doing the project and will update whenever the time I have to do so meets the desire I have to do so.

I also want to get back to my roots. I am trying to take a picture of my boys every day and there is no better place to put them then right here.

EC Files: week three

We are nearing the end of week three and EC is really going well. Just when I thought it was kinda hard and contemplated just putting him in a diaper and forgetting about it things began to click.

I should say that putting him in a diaper and forgetting about it is not really even an option now because Keen doesn't like pooping in diapers.

He doesn't really even like peeing in them, but he will if he needs to.

Mostly, though, he just tells me when he has to go even if he is in a diaper and holds it until I help him.

Yesterday while I cooked and cleaned he slept in the swing and I thought it would be a terrible EC day. Me not being skin to skin would mean he wouldn't be able to tell me and we'd go through tons of prefolds.

But, no, the entire time Joe was at work we only used one prefold. And it only was peed on after 4 p.m. when I was holding him skin to skin.

It reminded me that this process is not about me training him but about him telling me.

This is baby cued not parent cued.

This is nothing I am doing but listening to my child and helping him to use a receptacle instead of a diaper.

It's incredibly simple and natural but also amazing to me.

PPC day eighty: sometimes they know better

This morning Truman wanted pizza so I thought of a plan to take a tortilla, cheese, carrots he could chop himself and some chicken, stick it in the oven and: pizza.

This made me realize that in all the time I wasn't cooking in the last six or more weeks I didn't notice that Truman really likes to cook.

So what used to be taking time from him, making a mess, cleaning a mess, finding something else for him to do -- often making a mess in the kitchen -- has become a win-win.

So I planned to make these pizzas open face because that is what a pizza is, but Truman wanted a tortilla on top, then while I wasn't looking, another tortilla on top.

If I was looking I would have told him that he didn't need three tortillas in his pizza. That is a lot of tortilla.

But while they were cooking I got distracted and burned them. Well, guess whose pizza turned out great?

The one with the safety tortilla.

I just pealed the burned tortilla off and there it was a perfectly good quesdadi ... I mean ... pizza.

He knows best sometimes. I need to remember that when I am looking and in situations that involve things more important than pizza.

And the rest of our lives is deciding when to trust him and when to trust me.

Wish us luck.

PPC day seventy nine: I made dinner

That, my friends, is a huge task.

I usually end up waiting until 4 or 5, then am forced into some kind of boring or non-ideal dinner, which for the end of pregnancy meant Joe would be greeted by a very round, hungry lady and a stir-crazy 2-year old zooming toward bed time.

Then I would request to go out because, frankly, the idea of cooking was exhausting. Or we would eat something prepared simply. Nothing exciting to the soul.

I am lucky enough to be part of a community that sent me food after Keen was born and oh were the home cooked meals delicious.

Thank you Nikki, Sally, Meredith, Jen, Vanessa (who was compelled to make "Keenwa" (quinoa) salad), Amy (who had a baby just 10 days before Keen was born) and Katrina (who was kind enough to bring them right to me).

Yesterday I started thinking about all the things I want to do and got pretty overwhelmed. I made a list of needs each of us has and a loose outline for each day.

Then thought, "I can't do all this, ahhh."

But after sleeping I felt there was only one way to find out.

So I tried.

And here I am about to feast on the fruits of my labor.

And it was something Truman and I could do together. He likes to chop and stir.

Instead of feeling the need to escape the house at the end of this day, I feel excitement to sit down with my family (of 4!) and eat a meal we made in peace with love.

And some yelling. I am not going to lie; there was definitely peace and love, but also yelling.

Breastmilk and webprint

I was thinking about how dramatically the Internet has changed the stay at home mom role while I was entering my freelance work today, snuggled in the big recliner as Keen enjoys his breakfast.

When I became a mother I had no idea I would be typing one handed milk-sloshed sentences sent out into the real world of stain-free folks who spend little time thinking about poop or how amazing it is that the letter Z is involved in the word Zebra.

But here I am in my second freelance job and finding it lovely.

Sometimes I wonder if making the small amount of money I can bring in is worth the time sacrifice away from my children and the adjustment to a working mind but then I realize that there is something to be gained from the sense of duty that is involved in knowing someone else is reading something I have written.

It doesn't matter how small it is or how insignificant, it cuts the edge off the feeling of isolation that can sometimes overwhelm the stay at home experience.

It is the "if a tree falls" concept of the recognition of existence. I know that others know that I exist as a person outside of this experience of motherhood and that feels good in any capacity.

And at the same time I wouldn't want anything more than what I already have because these moments with my children are precious and every moment I spend validating my identity outside of this is a moment I lose embracing this.

EC Files: week one

Keen hasn't worn a diaper since we left the hospital. He lays on prefolds and as we snuggle we learn from each other.

I caught a poop the first or second night, our first pee yesterday and a few more today.

I am amazed to see the way he is learning to use the few actions with which he can communicate to say he has to pee, poop or burp.

He wiggles his feet at night to let me know his prefold is wet and I add a new one. He tries to latch but won't when he needs to poop or burp and when he needs to pee he wiggles or kicks.

Often he will communicate before he really has to go then wait and I have to watch for the second EC.

He likes to pee a little, poop, then pee more and he responds to our cue psssss.

Truman likes to join in and cue his brother.

I am more relaxed this time, my mantra is: nurture the relationship, respect the needs of the child, enjoy the catches, forget the misses, stay focused on the present.




... this is why my children don't wear pants ...

PPC day sixty four: delayed gratificatiion

Keen is fussy at night. At least for now there is about a two hour period each night in which he initiates nursing but will not latch and if he gets frustrated enough kicks, screams, wiggles.

The first night of this I felt lost. Truman needed me all the time but I could fix everything with milk. Keen needs more than that. He needs me to help protect him from getting frustrated.

So last night I did. For two hours or more we switched position every time he got frustrated and it helped.

I was waiting to eat a small piece of chocolate until he fell asleep and while this may have added to my frustration my snack of water and chocolate in being delayed seemed to amplify the pride and love I felt when he was asleep there in my arms, lulled by diligence, presence, patients and love.

PPC day sixty: the nest

Sometimes I realize that just because my priorities align with the adult world of how things should be done or what they are fore doesn't mean Truman has ideas that are any less valid or important.

This helps me create peace b looking at the effect of choices as they affect the whole family not just one member.

What am I really talking about?

Our second night with Keen Truman I got up to potty and gave Truman the task of holding the boppy.

When I returned he had claimed it as his nest and had no intention of giving it back ever.

Thinking its use value was so much more important to me than to him I took it back.

Screaming. Tears. Negotiations.

I finally just asked Joe to take him downstairs because Keen was waking up. Then as they headed downstairs I changed.

I grew suddenly and beautifully as a mother of two.

I realized that my need for the boppy in the short period of time Truman would be awake paled in comparison for his huge desire for it and the over arching need for peace as a family.

They came back up; I gave it to him; and know what happened?

Truman gave it back.

It seemed he had grow in the same way. We grew together as a family.

Then we built him a nest where he slept.

And then there were two

Keen Victor * 3-13-11 * 7 pounds 10 ounces * 4:42 a.m.

Two boys. 2 boys. TWO boys. =)

Oh the adventures to be. The peace to discover. The love that has already emerged.

What I have learned from this winter

It wasn't the coldest winter and it doesn't seem to be the longest but it was the snowiest since I moved here. And I had a KID.

Well, I had a kid the two previous winters, but he was small enough that the craving for outside time, the absolute NEED to go outside, was not strong enough to drive either of us crazy.

It was this year.

And what was our backyard full of right out of the gate? Snow. So much snow that if he stepped on it he would sink to his waist or more.

Lots of snow + pregnant mom = not a lot of outside time this winter.

And now that it is almost spring we, and everyone else in the state, are crazy.

I thought I was just antsy for the baby to arrive but I realized yesterday that while I know a lot of people expecting babies right now I know far more who aren't who are just as antsy. We want melt, we want green, we want warmth and the ability to step in our backyards without sinking to our knees.

And we will get it.

No one knows when but we will get it. And the baby, too.

So here is what I have learned for next winter:

• I need to take more time to appreciate winter for what it is. To enjoy indoor activities, hot cocoa, tea or cider, to venture out bundled up and just embrace the cold. We did fairly well this year, except the going out part. I picked up knitting and crafting, made hot meals, warm drinks and let myself pause in wonder at the magic of snow in different temperatures, hoar frost and the soft warm snowflakes of the last few days. I even towed Truman around the block a few times on his sled up until a few months ago. But next year I want to head into winter with this in mind and really focus on loving the season.
• I want to celebrate more holidays headed into the winter and during it, building more light and joy into the season. Waldorf has been introducing me to all kinds of ways to celebrate the season that I hadn't thought of and showing me how to make meaning out of celebrations I never paid much attention to because they seemed commercial before.
• I want to go out almost every day into the cold world and feel the renewal of fresh air.

I am all about goals I can actually accomplish so that is all for now.

I am going to tag all of these posts about embracing life "in pursuit of happiness." Some of them will overlap positive parenting posts, but will mainly focus on other life things approached mindfully with reverence to their state.

In other words, appreciating winter and my dirty house.

PPC day forty five: Respecting fixations

There isn't an adult I know that doesn't have at least one fixation. Something they are obsessed with or hate. It's a normal part of personhood to have likes and dislikes and things we just have to do a certain way.

I am obsessed with packing. I love getting everything together just right, deciding where things should go and knowing that everything is where it is supposed to be. I don't like wasted space.

Does this drive my husband nuts? Uh, yeah.

But he lets me pack.

He has his own strange things and I have learned in five years of marriage to respect those.

So why is it so hard to accept the fixations of toddlers?

It's so easy to dismiss what they want to do because it doesn't seem important to us.

But that doesn't make it any less important to them.

We've been lazy about bedtime recently. Sleep is about to change and motivation to get everything in order is waning. Joe has been sick and we are all just focused on sleeping as much as we can when we can.

It's working well.

But this led to Truman wanting to sleep on the couch last night. He happily snuggled in and let us turn out the light.

At some point he started crying and Joe went downstairs to see what was wrong. Apparently he had been trying to find a certain Word World and couldn't find it.

In a tired haze he came to bed and slept. He cried several times in the night. I was not my best at these moments and told him everything was fine then shushed him.

I will have to work on that.

Anyway, in the morning he was still obsessed with the Word World. The problem? We had all the Word Worlds, yet he still thought something was missing.

He was crying a bit and very upset and we kept asking him what he wanted. He kept answering the same way: "I want one."

After asking him which one and giving him suggestions, asking for different words, etc., nothing had changed.

I knew what was going on here. His mind gets stuck in a feedback loop. He was frustrated about last night and not seeing that the situation had changed. He just remembered how he felt then and couldn't get past those feelings enough to decide what to do next.

In the past I have just left him there to calm down until he can tell me what he wants. After all, I don't have all day to sit and listen to him repeat the same phrase that I can't understand as both of us get more upset ... uh ... right?

Well, once I started looking at this as a fixation he just couldn't get passed I realized what he needed was to be guided. I hugged him and talked about last night and then showed him that all the Word Worlds were there. He thought and looked and then smiled and grabbed the one he wanted.

PPC day thirty six: Rules

In the last several weeks Truman has been very receptive to following rules if we explain why he needs to follow them. This is huge because previously he couldn't accept arbitrary rules.

Natural consequences are easy for him to understand. He ate hot food once as a baby and to this day won't touch food that is more than lukewarm. He knows to stay a safe distance from fires and not to jump from too high from instinct.

But, "you need to stay with me in a store," or "you need to sit in a restaurant?" Not so much.

Why? There is no motivation. He doesn't want to do those things and every part of his body is screaming to do other things. To climb, to look, to touch, to learn.

And following a rule requires quieting internal desires for external reasons. It is really quite sophisticated work.

I've been using a lot of communication to give him reasons to want to do those things. At first a lot of those reasons were what I call bribes. Now, I am not saying it's wrong to offer rewards or remind a child that it is only after work that we can play, it's just that to me, semantically, these are all bribes.

So at first as we approached a situation in which I knew it was difficult for him to follow rules, I would talk about it heading in. This usually involves stores. We would run over what we needed to do and how I expected him to act.

Then I would usually offer a bribe. But bribing my son doesn't work well because he assumes the bribe will happen no matter what. I have tried being tough on the follow through, but it's just not worth it. I would rather go without the bribe.

So I cut out the bribes and it worked well, depending on the day. If he was in a place where he wanted to follow rules he was happy, if not, well ...

Then I discovered the power of positive communication of telling him how I knew he was capable of acting instead of how I wanted him to act.

Game changer.

He is so much more receptive now than he was before. I also added in why and that was really what has made the biggest difference.

We now talk a lot about how when he stays with me in a store it is helpful to me and when he runs away I get frustrated or scared. And he gets that. He is sympathetic to me and wants to help.

Instead of making these rules about control and what I expect him to do I've reshaped them to be about relating to one another. They are about what he can do and how he can help, which motivates him.

Rules become more about the relationship we have as a family and how we can treat each other with respect than anything arbitrary.

The obnoxious onlooker in my mind is telling me I am one of those parents that is a softie. I will be pushed around and he won't have structure. But that isn't what this is about. Nothing about explaining a rule in a way that makes it about respect is soft. There will rules in his life, but each one should have an explanation.

That's not soft, it's peaceful.

PPC day thirty five: We parent differently but united

I think it's weird that there are certain statements Truman accepts from my mouth but argues with Joe about. It works the other way, too.

He doesn't accept physical restraint from me because he knows I can't follow through. He knows he can get away from me, so taking a minute in public doesn't work. It's all kicking and screaming and escaping.

But daddy can take him to the bathroom, talk with him for a few moments and he's fine.

I am lucky to spend so much time with my son. I know him on an intimate intuitive level, so when he's tired and can't communicate what he needs, I know what it is. I can respond appropriately to weird sounds or looks.

But daddy has a harder time because he's not a mind reader (and no one expects him to be).

Today we went out to brunch and Truman did not want to sit and eat. He hasn't been very hungry lately and so sitting while not eating was even less appealing. But daddy took him to a quiet place, talked with him, and they returned. He sat calmly for quite sometime.

When he came back he told me "daddy ang at me" (which means yell). I knew that Joe had not yelled at him, but I also knew that to him it felt like yelling because it had the effect of making him feel yelled at.

So I talked to him about it. I am trying to help him develop his internal voice that says he is loved even if someone yells at him. So I asked him why daddy talked to him that way and reminded him. I told him we loved him and that we were eating and needed him to stay at the table while we eat.

I chose my words carefully. And Joe and I talked about it right after in front of him. I told Joe I am with him and I want Truman to know that we are on the same side of things, but that I also feel I need to comfort him if he is scared or hurt.

Joe does the same thing when I get frustrated with Truman and yell.

I think there is value in parenting differently but it is important to keep the transparency that we are united. Daddy may do one thing and mommy may do another but the rule is the same.

PPC day thirty three: p.s.

Also, even though I am running out of clothes that fit I am going to try to look cute.



Because you know, it just makes me feel happier.

And look I got Truman dressed, in a new shirt, easily!

PPC day thirty three: Hope and change

That closet was clean last week. It has been clean for months. It was one of my first organization projects in a long line of things to organize our life from chaos as a family of three to order as a family of four.

I know this isn't going to be solved in 9 months, but I was making good progress.

I spent all last weekend cleaning the office area in which this closet is located. The floor was clean. Toys were in bags to be put where they belong and I felt good.

But I didn't quite get all of the toys away and days later the floor was already covered in this and that. Then he destroyed that closet. The closet where I keep my photography equipment, props, knitting, computer stuff, frames — the things he is not supposed to play with.

This wasn't as much of a problem when the closet closed, but it broke a few months ago and we haven't decided on a fix.

What is really most frustrating about this is that I really, really want to keep cleaning. There are a million messes I want to fix right now but I am so tired. I have a cold, I was up for several hours in the night last night and Truman woke up early. I just don't have the capacity to clean or control the way I feel about this closet right now.

So I feel frustrated. Really, really frustrated that he couldn't just leave it alone despite constant pleas.

I also feel powerless because what has worked in the past (having him take a minute in his room until he calms down and gain control of his emotions and body) is something I just can't do right now. He's big and hard to carry all the way up stairs to his room.

So I feel trapped.

I could keep wallowing in these feelings, try to keep pushing him away so I can have a minute to come out of my fog of frustration, but that isn't working.

I think maybe I had a romantic view of parenting before I was in it where I assumed that in moments like these a knight in shinning armor would come and save me. I know several knights who would love to if they were closer.

But sometimes I just have to face the fact that this is our life, this is my child and whatever life I want to live I have to create here. Sitting around feeling frustrated won't help.

So, instead of watching the clock until Joe gets home, we are switching it up. We're going out. A change of setting will change the pace for both of us and we'll move on.

I know his mess won't look as terrible when I return and I am sure that picture will be cuter in a few hours when the memory of him throwing rainbow colored flash cards around my once clean room yelling "sparklies!" is not so fresh.

I am sure, later, this will be much cuter. And in the very least we will stop making messes while we are not here.

PPC day thirty one: Don't fight battles you can't win

Truman wants to play with food coloring on the couch. On. The. Couch.

Not happening.

I told him he could play with it in the shower where it could be cleaned but he didn't like that idea.

He is now throwing a tantrum about it.

There was a time I would let this make me angry and frustrated, but I won't. It's a battle I can't win.

I can only hope to give him to the tools to understand why he can't do it and move forward.

p.s. File the food coloring under the light bright category of potential awesomeness gone horribly wrong. I bought it for crafts and it has become a constant attraction and now potential mess of doom.

PPC day twenty four: If at first you don't succeed ...

... try, try again, right?

I hear a chorus of children saying that in my head as I write this, yet as a parent it can be hard to remember to try things that are hard again with your child.

Today I had some errands to do in Milaca, so we met up with Joe for breakfast and then he watched Truman while I went to the post office.

Taking a two-year-old out to eat is not easy, but today instead of focusing on that in my mind, I focused on ways to make it easier for him.

He was excited for a placemat and crayons, but after we sat and ordered he grew restless and started climbing on the table to reach a line of Valentine's Day decorations.

I told him not to touch the decorations because they might fall, but instead of stopping or just continuing he explained what he was doing.

He was building a hill.

So, I suggested we build a hill with his placemat, which turned into a house. A few YMCA cards, crayon "food" and napkin wrapper car later and we had a whole pretend land in which to play until the food came.

There you have it: he's growing up. It used to be so hard to keep him entertained in restaurants, but we tried again and it was different.

After I went to the post office I had a crazy idea to take him to Milaca Unclaimed Freight to get supplies to make valentines.

That doesn't sound like the worst idea until you consider that the store is a warehouse full of stuff purchased from abandon freight and being resold at discount. It's a toddler's dream. It's big and interesting and overwhelming.

It's kind of like parent-of-toddler purgatory.

Or, it was.

Today he was too big to sit in the cart, but rode on the front and walked. I had no idea how well this would go. My son has been one of those kids that embraces the world, bolting away from me since he was quite small. So I have grown to fear shopping with him, especially in big places full of interesting unknown things.

But today he stayed near me. He looked at things but put them back and even wanted to fix things that were out of place. He didn't protest when I told him he couldn't have a remote controlled car, but offered him something he could have instead.

Eventually he did get overstimulated and wanted to grab things I asked him not to, but the entire trip was so dramatically different than it had ever been all because he is older and capable of controlling his desire to touch things.

All because of the work all of us have been putting into help him gain control over his own actions and decisions.

I also tried something different before we went in, inspired, again, by Meredith's blog, I talked to him about what we were going to do in positive terms. I usually talk to him about something before we do it, but realize I may use more negative statements than positive.

I might say: "I need you to be careful not to touch things," whereas I could be saying, "I know you are capable of not touching things."

Just semantics to adults, but it can carry so much more weight for toddlers and I wanted to try it out.

Today I said we were going into the store and we would go potty because I knew he could and it would be best to do it before we shopped. And he agreed.

And what do you know? He did. I don't know if it was the talk before hand or the consequence from the day before sinking in, but I am happy that he is thinking about the choice to pee more now.

Then I reminded him why we were there, to get Valentine's Day supplies, so that we wouldn't get too distracted by the big warehouse of whozits and whatzits (which, frankly, is an internal monologue I run for myself in these situations).

And while we did browse many other things and I did let him touch and explore, while explaining, it worked.

When we came home, we even started some of the valentines.

It was a big day, but it was a good day. So many other days like it have not gone as well in the past. But today, like all others, was a new day — a new chance to learn, a new chance to grow, a new chance to try something we've done before again.

PPC day twenty three: Consequences

Here's the thing about consequences: they are not fun to enforce. But that doesn't mean I can just avoid teaching my son things because it's hard.

Not that you would expect me to, right?

On the other hand, I strive not to be an authoritarian parent, based on instinct and research I have done.

Most recently Nurture Shock taught me that according to studies most teens lie. Now, Truman is no teen, but he will be someday and the foundation of our relationship is being mapped out now.

So, what makes teens lie less? Teens who feel their parents set rules, but are willing to bend the rules under some circumstances are least likely to lie. If they feel they can negotiate, then they will try, instead of lying out-right.

The parenting I am trying to practice involves both set and malleable rules. Of course this makes deciding what is set and what is malleable hard.

Really hard.

Anyway, I have been thinking about consequences after reading about a moment my friend Meredith had with her son.

What things will I negotiate and in which will I draw a hard line?

There is only one way to find out: trail and error.

Today we went to the Maple Maze (a big indoor climbing structure). When we got there Truman did not want to go potty. I told him that was fine, but he needed to tell me when he did have to go and I would help him.

I should pause here to say that I have already tried drawing the hard line with pottying. But here is the thing, you can't make someone who doesn't want to pee pee. You can try to trick them into peeing while running water (30% efficacy), but you can't actually force them to pee.

I think some kids can be "forced" into peeing by being told to do so, by bribes or other explanations, but my spirited child will not pee unless he has decided to.

I have focused on trying to make sure he remembers when he has to go and this has worked somewhat well.

Anyway, a little while later he wet his pants. I told him calmly that it was okay and that we needed to go change his pants. He tried to pee, but didn't have to. While he was getting into his new pants I explained that this was his last pair of pants. He needed to go in the potty because if he went in them we would have to go.

A nice natural consequence: if you pee in your pants and don't have anymore, you have to leave.

He played for a while. I asked him if he had to go several times, then finally took him to the potty with me and asked him to try. He refused.

I reminded him that if he peed in his pants we would have to go because we didn't have any more pants. He understood. I told him to tell me when he had to go.

That boy can hold his pee for a long time, I give him credit. And he did not want to leave the maze.

Finally, hours later he came to get a drink, and once he started sipping he peed. He looked at me right away and said "ut oh!"

This was the hard part. He clearly didn't mean to pee his pants. I so wanted to just take him to the car, get more pants and come back. I so wanted to carry 5 pairs of pants so he wouldn't have to feel like he made a mistake and now he couldn't play.

I felt bad for him.

But, I also want a child who understands consequences and will take the time to pee in the potty so he doesn't wet his pants.

I want him to know that when I layout a clear set of rules to which he agrees that there will be consequences and to learn to foresee consequences for himself.

So we left. I think he thought we were getting the pants to bring back inside. He was upset when he realized we were leaving.

That part was hard.

What was good: for once he did not want to be in wet pants. He wanted to change his pants. This is a huge change from even last month. In the past few weeks he has gone from not caring that his clothes are wet or dirty, to wanting to change his pants and wash his shirt.

(Yes, shirt. He wears one shirt, but at least he wants to wash it now).

I hope that this consequence helps him learn to think ahead. I hope it helps him see why he should try to pee when I take him. I hope it helps him see consequences I haven't even outlined for him.

Afterward I explained why I take him potty when he doesn't have to go. That I want to offer him a chance so that he doesn't forget.

PPC day twenty two: learning from mistakes

Most people would say what you learn from this:


(circa early 2009)

is to never, ever, ever leave a giant box of paints under your child's craft table where they can easily repeat the paint-tastrophe.

Well, that is one way of doing things. And probably the way people with clean houses do things.

For a time the paints did migrate away from the table, but eventually they made it back and nearly a year, if not more, passed before today: paint-tastrophe 2.

But you know what? By the time I realized what was going on, my son was already coming over to ask for help.

What had I learned from past mistakes? How to clean up the paint mess, of course!

I grabbed an already dirty towel waiting to go down to the washer and a bowl, and scooped the pain into the bowl. A few more towels later it was pretty much clean and Truman was in the bathroom washing the bowl.

Last time I explained to Truman that he couldn't dump out his paints. And I can't say that I like that he dumps them out on occasion, but ultimately I am just excited that he wanted to paint.

His art table has gone unused for a while, so I welcome the renaissance and its messes.

And what I learned from past mistakes is that I am willing to deal with mess for the benefit of my child and that when that giant mess arrives, I am not even angry.

This project is helping free me from anger over tiny things and enabling me to see the joy in the process of spilling paint and focus on simply the calm process of cleaning it.

Now to use that same calm to clean up the stack of raisins on my floor.

As part the process to become more organized, we are keeping our upstairs clean. This is where the majority of living spaces are (bedrooms, living room, kitchen, dinning room). And after a whole week, we are still doing it! I spent time last night wiping down all the counters and making sure toys were away. Not my favorite way to end a weekend, but the clean living room was my ideal way to start the week.

I think having part of the house clean also makes small messes, like paint, easier to deal with. It's not another mess on top of pile of hopeless messes. It's just one mess in a sea of clean.

Beep-bot-beep lunch bag

With my extra time at home today, I worked on some photography stuff and even sewed this lunch bag, snack bag and made a napkin for Truman.

He's already running around with it.

PPC day nineteen: Letting him steer the ship

Truman has been struggling with a variety of things lately: potty set-backs, difficulty wanting to leave house and difficulty wanting to return, and even hitting other children the last few days.

For a while I was too frustrated about these set-backs to figure out what the underlying cause was. I kept trying things to treat the symptoms of the set-backs (new potty ideas, new ideas for getting out of the house) but none of them were working well. Until one day it hit me that maybe he is just getting scared of the change that is about come.

He knows and loves the baby. He kisses my belly and talks about the baby, but I think he sees all the changes we are making and realizes our family has changed.

So then I thought, how do I help him deal with this bigger issue?

And I couldn't figure that out, either.

Until I really started listening to what he was saying. As he is running away from me in the morning he was literally saying: "I don't want to go ____. I want to stay home and do ____."

I was taking this as resistance, as him just wanting to be in control of the day. I knew when we got where were going that he would enjoy it (and this was true), so I thought he just needed me to be the one to make him go.

Today among pleadings to stay home I realized maybe he just needs more time at home. Home is a safe place where he is potty independent (except for the occasional wipe), can practically get his own food and roam from activity to activity in his own time without interruptions.

We all need the renewal of being home.

Whats more, his instance to stay home made me realize how much I want more time at home, too. How I feel overwhelmed by all the stuff we have been wanting to do + all the things I want to get done at home.

So we cut out our Friday class today and now have free days on Monday and Friday. Days to renew ourselves at home or go and do something less structured.

I know I will still need to steer the ship for him sometimes, encouraging him to do things I know are good for him or that he will enjoy, but Truman has a good compass within himself letting him know what he needs.

I need to listen to that.

PPC day eighteen: Honoring the baby in toddlers

Truman seems older than he is. He's big, verbal and independent. He can do a lot of things like a three year old and he's certainly the size of a three year old, but that doesn't mean he IS three.

He's still two, he still has those needs he had as a baby and it's easy for me to forget, fall into traps of frustration and want him all grown up at once — potty trained, in control of his body and emotions, weaned from the family bed.

I get so caught up in what I want to accomplish with him. I want to help him accomplish these things so he can move on to other things he is ready for.

But just because he is ahead in some areas doesn't mean he is ahead in all areas. And just because I want something done by X date, have reasonable time lines, steps and everything the books recommend, doesn't mean he is going to be ready to take that next step.

He has been fighting a cold and his sleep has been all out of whack, making our sleep all out of whack, making for one cranky round lady.

He hasn't wanted to go anywhere, even our normal outings and if we go he doesn't want to leave.

Today I honored that. Today I stayed home with him as he wanted.

In the afternoon he settled down for a nap on his own curled on the floor looking just like a baby. Then he stirred a few hours later. I greeted him cheerfully, but he wanted me to hold him. He wanted to sleep in my arms like he had for 18 months.

So, I held him. I was sewing at the time and grabbed a piece of fabric I had, wrapped it around him and have been sitting, wearing him since.

He is still asleep in my arms, cuddling his sibling, peacefully.

Maybe what he really needs is not more rules, more structure or me stepping away. Maybe what he needs is just this closeness he has always had.

Maybe he is sensing that it will be shared soon. Sensing me pushing him to grow up and feeling unsure about it.

As independent as he is, he still needs his mother. I need to remember to honor that. As fearlessly as he approaches the world, he still needs security. I need to remember to honor that.

PPC day seventeen: Good days do not always lead to good nights

Last night I slept entirely in about 1 hour increments.

Joe joked it was one way to train for the baby, but I was more wondering how this would work if there were a baby here, too.



Of course, I know that these nights are rare and I am keeping it in perspective. But in the process of letting it go, I want to share the story of our monumentally haphazard night.

Truman fell asleep after 7:30 on our way home. We got him in the house and tucked him in, then I did a load of dishes, cleaned out a cupboard and the fridge, put away the groceries and swept a little (as part of an effort to keep our newly clean house, well, clean).

Confession, though: our Christmas tree is still up in the basement.

Then we made snacks and settled in to watch an episode of The Office on hulu.

Truman has a cold, so I wasn't surprised that I had to get up twice to calm him back to sleep.

By the third time, right around the end of the episode (which is only 30 min. long) I started to think it was a little weird. But tried not to get frustrated.

He had finally wet those pants and I took them off, comforted him back to sleep and he settled in for a while. Then Joe and I fell asleep on the couch while trying to watch an episode of the X-files on netflix we had fallen asleep watching before.

This is what we have become.

We got up and headed to bed, then the real fun started. About an hour later Truman got upset again. Then an hour later I had to pee. An hour later Joe wasn't feeling well and got up, while Truman climbed into bed, usurping his spot. Thirty to 40 minutes later Joe came back and realized he had to sleep in Truman's bed. About an hour later I got up to pee. An hour later Truman's feet were pushing on my head and I had to ask for help. One hour later Truman got upset and wanted to be on the floor. Then changed his mind and came back to bed. It was 5 a.m. and Joe got up to go to basketball.

That is where any attempt to keep Truman asleep ended. He laid in bed for a while, waking me every time I dosed asking me something. Once he heard daddy's car leave he was up for the day.

So I did what desperate, sleepy parents have done for quite some time and put on a movie from him to watch hoping to sleep a bit more.

Well, the rest of the morning developed much like the night: He came back after about an hour asking for a snack. I set him up with a snack and an episode of Word World. He came back in about 30 minutes saying he had spilled his milk, frustrated I told him to get a towel from the bathroom and put it on the spill (which I discovered he did when I got up a few hours later). Then he wanted more snack. Then he wanted to move up stairs. Finally Joe came back home, I slept for another 30 min, and got up.

While I won't pretend that I wasn't grumpy during some of these moments, I did a pretty good job not pushing my grumpiness on my child. I feel good about that.

And, I found out that while I had thought I wasn't having crazy pregnancy dreams, I am. I am just not remembering them.

My dreams all spiraled together into an Inception-like web of layers. There was even one point where I was deep within the story, heard a small voice, said "I don't want her here," and had to start slapping my face through dream layer after dream layer until I got to the last layer and Truman woke me up.

I am pretty sure that little voice was Truman.

That is the worst night of sleep I have had as a parent where someone wasn't up sick all night.

But, you know, it really wasn't that bad.

I am hoping for a joint afternoon nap in a few hours, though.

PPC day sixteen: Pride

Today was one of those days where everything fell into place. This is possible partly because our definition of everything running smoothly is tailored to our life.

Pre-kids we may have thought having a day with no tantrums, no refusing to get dressed, going somewhere exciting was the perfect day.

Now a day with minimal tantrums in which our child makes progress on things that are challenging to him while we peacefully proceed to fill our house with groceries and do something as a family is perfect.

Yesterday we were out of the house from a little after Truman got up until after he was asleep. Anyone who has toddlers knows that can be hard for them. But instead of regressing, he progressed during our day.

We practiced elimination communication from around 6 months. But toddlers don't follow simple equations well. It turns out:

Being aware of his needs to potty + knowing where to do it + being capable of communicating those needs, does not always = potty trained.

At home he has been potty independent (other than the occasional wipe) for almost a year. Outside the house was great until a few months ago.

Recently he has been on a bit of a public-potty strike, which has led to lots of accidents and clothing changes, which creates this horrible cycle of him not wanting to pee in the public potty, but feeling really bad about having to change his pants, which feeds back into the anxiety of the public potty.

Yesterday he peed in public potties the whole time we were out of the house. He wore the same pair of pants the whole day and I could tell he was proud of himself as we were of him.

For most of this potty strike I have been investing a lot of energy in trying to get him potty trained because I was focused on wanting my older child done with the process when my younger child arrived.

But recently I realized that my plan was putting stress on both of us. I backed off. I haven't forced the issue as much and made it clear that it is his body and his to control. It felt amazing to see him decide to use the potty instead of caving into the types of coercions I have been trying (and failing with).

Though we did have one coercion. The restaurant we went to puts ice in the urinals; what 2-year-old doesn't want to pee on ice?

Then we went swimming as a family and something amazing happened. Something that has nothing to do with me at all. Something that was his accomplishment.

He got incredibly closer to swimming. In the past when we would try to help him float on his back or even support his belly so he could kick his arms and legs he would get scared. Scared because he felt unstable. Scared if his face touched the water.

These are natural fears and quite useful. I would explain to him that he was safe, but feeling safe was something he had to come to on his own.

Yesterday he got to the point where he could use a few noodles to float on and swim by himself. Propelling himself along. He was even dipping his head and ears in the water on his back.

I am amazed that at not even three he had that kind of courage and initiative.

Looks like swimming lessons will be in his near future.

PPC day fourteen: My Christmas tree is still up

The Christmas tree I put up in a furry of nesting energy before Thanksgiving and never finished decorating. The Christmas tree that had more non-ornaments thrown into it than ornaments because a certain someone thought that was the best game ever.

Its a fake tree, so it's not like I'm risking a fire hazard, but to be honest I have kept real trees up just as long.

The point is this: some people need order outside of themselves to reciprocate order within. I am not one of these people, but I would like to play one on TV.

I want to be orderly because I am attracted to the idea that my house could, hypothetically, look like a magazine, or at least a semi-realistic sitcom, instead of the house that still has a half-decorated Christmas tree up nearly a month after Christmas.

But you know what? Today Truman took a nap on the couch in front of the Christmas tree and when he woke up we snuggled and pointed out the lights and few things we saw within it. We searched for certain colors and the red bow and the red star. In the buzz of Christmas there wasn't time for that, but now there is.

He didn't care if it was out of season or had branches falling off. He just liked spending a few moments looking at the pretty lights with me while snow fell outside our window.

I want to find a balance between spotlessness and chaos. For us this means getting rid of a lot of stuff so we can continue to use what we have creatively, combining toys from his room with toys from downstairs, without over-running the house with clutter that I am not willing to spend the time to clean.

But it also means accepting a home with children, or, even, any home, is in a constant state of flux with things coming in and going out in an ebb and flow of messy weeks and clean weeks.

In short I am going to own less, clean more and feel less guilty about how clean my house is.

PPC day twelve: Turning a double negative into a positive

Last summer I made a decision that has lived in infamy in our home to buy a used light bright for Truman, my two-year-old.

I was picturing quiet created by concentrated combos of the little pegs, introducing color theory, and the final products shinning peacefully over him as a nightlight while he slept.

None of that really happened. Despite the fact that the lady has assured me her kids had just replaced the light bulb and that it worked, it never worked for us.

I was too thrifty to throw it away, thinking we could still play with it, we just couldn't plug it in.

Well, playing with it became dumping the pieces out of the handy, organized container (pictured above) all over the living room time and time again, while I foolishly and feverishly reorganized them by color (obsessive? yes. But I did say foolishly).

The light bright became a bane on our existence and Joe was constantly asking me to get rid of it.

Finally in a furry of nesting I threw it away and all the tiny pegs, too, but decided to keep the box.

Today Truman dumped out a bunch of the snaps I am using to revamp his diapers from the aplix velcro of doom Bum Genius 3.0s came with to lovely snaps that will stay put as pictured here:




(I will post more information about that project when I am done.)

Both of these situations were negative, yet I realized the snaps would have a perfect home inside that light bright case.

The snaps were just in open plastic bags that didn't seal, now they are well-contained and easy to work with.

And as an added bonus I don't feel so bad for my horrible light bright fail.

So there you have it: negative + negative + the right attitude = positive.

PPC day eleven: Sleep now my darling ...

For most of his life, Truman has slept in our bed with us. He even napped with me or on my lap almost exclusively for the first 18 months (not a choice I made, but a reality of his need to be close in sleep to know he is safe).

When I watch him totally secure in his connection to me, exuding confidence in his daily interactions with other children and the world, I know that it is partly because I was able to love him in that way.

But part of expanding our family has meant a gradual weaning from our bed to his. It's been a slow process with lots of back and forth, partly because he is also night weaning.

While we have had some set backs in other areas during the day recently, last nights and the nights leading up to it have seen some amazing progress in self-soothing.

Instead of needing to nurse in his bed, or crawl into ours, Truman is able to just hear the sound of my voice reminding him he is okay if he wakes and can fall back asleep. Sometimes he does it completely on his own.

These are things some babies do before they walk, but that doesn't make it any less remarkable at this moment for us.

When brushing teeth and getting to bed is hard, I try to remember these moments. I try to remember how remarkable it is just to sleep alone and comfort yourself in the night and to honor this milestone of his as it emerges on it's own schedule.

PPC day nine: Sticks and stones

I will parent the way that is best for me and my child, even in the face of opposition.

When I first became a mom I lived in fear of the obnoxious on-looker, this fictional character I had created — kind of a cousin to the shifty-looking thief on those neighborhood watch posters — who really just embodied all of the fears I had about the choices I felt were right for my family, but stood out.




A piece of me was afraid of being judged for being different, but over time that piece grew smaller and smaller.

In reality, I never really had an encounter with any of the evil people I thought existed until last Saturday.

We went to 5 p.m. evening Mass because Joe was singing, which means he has to go an hour early so we went to 5 p.m. Mass at 4, which means we spent two hours in church.

For the first hour we headed down to the nursery to play. When Mass started, Truman did not want to leave and so we stayed for a while because I know that time of day is hard for him and that staying still in church is hard for him.

Eventually we headed up to the church, walked through, listening to what we could, then took communion. Afterward he wanted to look at the candles people had lit for special intentions. I have decided that if he can look with his eyes and not with his hands it is okay for him to explore these.

How else is he going to engage with his faith of origin at this age? Toddlers gain knowledge by interacting, touching, engaging, not sitting.

He was frustrated about the no-touch rule, but following directions. He was even making a good effort to whisper. Then he saw a statue holding a scepter and couldn't resist the urge to grab the "sword." When I told him no he got mad. Then I asked him to gain control or we would have to go take a minute. He did, but as he was stepping back he hit his head on the pew.

Crying ensued. Crying loud enough that all I could hear over it was the music.

Until I heard rapid snapping coming from behind me. I assumed the old man behind me was just going to try to cheer Truman up and was ready to tell him it was nice but wouldn't work because he was hurt, not mad.

Instead I found a grumpy face talking in a whisper shout I couldn't hear gesturing toward the music and the cry room. He was actually demanding I take my flailing child into the cry room in my 8 month pregnant arms because he couldn't hear the second reflection song well enough (although I could still hear it very well above the crying).

Ignoring the irony that the reason I was having a hard time was because my husband was in the act of making that music, wouldn't do the story justice, but the real point is this:

At that moment I could have gotten angry. And at first I felt that seeping in, but then I realized that nothing could be gained from anger. Nothing could be gained from letting him tell me how to parent child. Instead, I did what was best for us, which was to sit there, calm him, and move on.

After the song, the man stormed out of church. Truman had calmed down, but then got angry again because he wanted to light the candles.

We headed to the bathroom (one of the only actual non-distracting rooms for a child in the church) to take a minute and I started crying right along with him.

It was a horrible moment that I'm still sad happened, but it allowed me to realize how powerful I am as a parent.

I was able to keep from folding under the presence of the Obnoxious Onlooker. I'm freed from that fear because I faced it with all the positivity I am gaining from this challenge.

PPC day seven: Acceptance

Accepting things that are not ready to be changed frees me to experience the lessons and joys emerging from these short-lived stages in life. There is positivity in avoiding resistance. I will remind myself that I am not "giving up" when I choose this option with my children, only pausing for peace.

It's easy to get caught up in behavior modification with children and to start to believe that every negative behavior is a sign of something that needs to be changed.

I have a lot of tools in my tool box to work on these things — by figuring out the deep need that he has that isn't being met, by keeping him from situations that bring on the behavior, by creating more rhythm or schedule in our day to give them a sense of what is to come and avoid the anxiety of the unknown.

But I am finding through this process that maybe I need to add a lot more acceptance into my parenting. Sometimes "negative" behavior is just a part of that age or stage for my child and it is better for me to take my desire to modify it out of the equation and instead help ameliorate the effects.

For us, it's easy for me to step back and look at our every day and think there are things that are "wrong" with it. It shouldn't be this hard to change a shirt, put on pants, put on a coat, hat and shoes and get in the car, right?

I've tried having him pick out his clothes, helping him to dress himself, talking to him in length about why and where we are going, and other things I can't remember right now.

But at this moment I know that it is just hard for him to do something he is not self-motivated to do. This will probably be a part of his personality forever, but at two it seems to be at its maximum.

So, instead of making both of us frustrated pushing for change, I take breaks, find acceptance that this one thing is hard for both of us, make as little fuss about it as possible when I am getting him dressed, and let it go as we move through the day.

I have noticed if I talk about it too much, he begins to build anxiety about the moment. Then frustration, or desire to control himself, that he expresses in the moment is increased. The more matter-of-fact and quick I am about dressing, the less anxiety builds. For now I have chosen to do this to ameliorate the effect and let the underlying sit on pause.

It feels like giving up, but it's not.

What made realize this was a lesson from my little yet-to-be-born child. I've been back into the practice of yoga regularly for over a year now. I took a few weeks off in early pregnancy, but otherwise have been growing a little yogi.

Many amazing moments have emerged practicing yoga with my unborn child, noticing the changes in my body from week to week as I work through the same poses and freeing my mind to focus on us for a concentrated period of time several days a week.

Last week it became hard. The baby went through a growth spurt, which makes sense at 31 weeks, and I felt bulky and even my favorite positions weren't feeling right. Downward dog felt horrible and child's pose didn't have it's magical benefits.

During that yoga session I found myself crying on the mat. This was the same day as that first bad day in this parenting challenge, and I gave in to a feeling of failure — that I couldn't handle my child on the outside or my child on inside.

What followed has been a week of interrupted sleep and daily tiredness.

All week I have resisted these feelings. I have found myself thinking that I must choose not to be this tired right now. I must feel the way I did 4 weeks ago — energized, ready-to-go, able to easily fall back asleep and go through all my poses feeling strong, poised.

I was too tired to get up for morning yoga yesterday, then realized that I couldn't go to afternoon yoga because I wanted to listen to a photography marketing webinar. By evening I was tired, but Truman said he wanted to go to Y, so we did.

On the way I realized that the tiredness might become a part of my life for the foreseeable future. That I am going to start getting rounder and heavier and maybe poses that were easy would become hard. But I will accept that.

I will accept that this is the stage that I am in with this child and in acceptance free myself of the self-defeating thoughts of modification. Instead, I will embrace the end of pregnancy and beginning of a new life.

Accepting things that are not ready to be changed frees me to experience the lessons and joys emerging from these short-lived stages in life. There is positivity in avoiding resistance. I will remind myself that I am not "giving up" when I choose this option with my children, only pausing for peace.