When I Get Mad ...

Sometimes I get mad.  It usually happens when I am over-whelmed, over-stretched, over-needed and over-spent.  The perfect storm of mothering overload!  When all those things happen at once, my little brain says, "All done" and I find myself with my jaw clenched, my eyes closed and my mouth fighting all the garbly-gook that wants to come pouring out.  Sound familiar?  Well, this happened recently ...

... on our trip home from our weekend in Denver.  We had enjoyed a wonderful couple of days with Brett's parents ... all except the stomach flu that hit the kids.  There is absolutely nothing worse than sick kids ... except maybe sick kids in someone else's home.  Ewww....

After our departure on Monday morning (and amidst our desperate hopes that we hadn't left any hidden bugs to infect our Gramps and Grammy with any extra "love") we stopped off at a convenience store for a couple of Big Gulp cups ... just in case.  Sure enough, about an hour into our drive, little Ashley moaned from her seat, "My belly doesn't feel good..."  With my lightening reflexes, I spun around in my seat and shoved a Big Gulp cup under her chin.  Just in time!  Meanwhile, we were speeding down the interstate at 75 mph and the kids were listening to a book on tape and Lydia was playing with her sock.  Just a regular Monday drive! :)

Brett pulled off at the first exit.  I jumped out and dumped out the yuckies.  In the middle of an apparent wind tunnel.  My scarf was whipping around and I was trying not to get any of the aforementioned yuckies on me.  As I climbed back into the car, Ashley whimpered that she got some on her shirt.  I jumped out again, back into the tornado, to open the side door to help her with her nasty shirt.  After I had carefully peeled the shirt over her head, I wadded it up so that all the yuckies were tucked inside and handed it across the seat to Norah.

"Can you please put this in the bag right behind you?"

Norah shrunk away from my hand as if I was holding a dead rat instead of a shirt.  She wrinkled her nose and shook her head.  The wind blew up my back.

"Fine."

I blew around the back of the van to open the back gate.  As the door swung up, a jacket, caught by a gust of wind, blew around the side of the van toward an open field.  Two birthday packages fell out the back into the rocks and the attached birthday card blew under the van behind the tire.  Perfect.

I stuffed the stinking, slimy, nasty shirt into the bag, scooped up the presents and shoved them back into the van and then ran off for the fly-away coat.  After stuffing that back into the van, I crawled down on my hands and knees to fish out the pink card.  Once everything was back in the van, I gave the back gate a tug and then ran around to my seat.  Then I closed my eyes, clenched my jaw and managed keep all but one of those garbly-gook words contained.  I was so mad.

Mad at flu bugs.
Mad at the prospect of being with four kids in a van for the next several hours.
Mad at the possibility of many such stops to dump yuckies.
Mad at kids who don't want to touch nasty, throw-up shirts any more than I do.
Mad at the wind.

Brett reached over and squeezed my hand.  He had just been on his way out to help when I slammed the door shut.  I knew that he was thankful for my help.  I knew that Ashley was thankful to not be covered in yuckies.  I knew that Norah was thankful I didn't make her take the shirt.

I slowly felt myself deflate.  A deep breath and a neck roll and I was all better.

Gratefully, God helped me by empowering me with a little self-control.  It could have been so much worse!  I could have really let loose and let everybody know how mad I was.  I could have held on to my anger and stewed for a few more mile-markers.  I could have said or done things that I would have regretted later.  I could have pulled a Liddy.

Lately, when my little two-year old is really mad she lets us know.  She recently had a similarly frustrating experience.  She only got two Smartie Sweet-Tart Hearts and she wanted more.  Yep ... she was mad.  And she threw her usual tantrum:

She screamed.
She howled.
She spit.
She cried.
She blew her runny-nose boogers all over her face.
She pulled down her pants and undies.

It wasn't a pretty sight!

Yeah, I'm glad that I've grown up a bit and I'm a little more self-controlled than my Lydia.  Because nobody wants to see Mommy act like that.

Can You Hear Me Now?

I'm sure that you have heard the old adage, "We have one mouth and two ears so that we can listen twice as much as we speak."  While I suppose it's true in principle, I don't often seen it played out that way!  Living in our house of 6 mouths and 12 ears (plus Gimli, I suppose ... so add one more set), it would seem to me that there is a lot more talking and not nearly enough listening!  Perhaps I would re-work this old saying to be something a bit more like this, "With two ears you should be able to hear just fine ... but first you have to quiet your mouth!"

Here is a familiar occurrence in our home:

Mom and Dad are talking in the kitchen after dinner.


Mom:  So, how was your d.....
Child from another room:  Dad! Can we watch TV?
Dad:  Come to where I am, please.
Mom:  As I was saying, how wa....
Same child from another room:  Dad!  Can we ...
Dad:  Come. To. Where. I. Am. Please.
Mom:  How ...
Same child walks into kitchen:  Dad, can ...
Dad:  Please don't interrupt your Mom.
Mom:  Ho ...
Different child from another room:  Mom!  I need help with my shirt.
Dad:  Come to the kitchen, please.
Mom:  Never mind ... we'll talk later.

Apparently everyone wants to be heard ... but no one is actually doing the hearing.  As a mom this is frazzling.  We are often out-numbered mouths to ears, for one thing.  For another, our kids are typically rather insistent in what they are saying to us and so we have to sort out the kids that need immediate attention (potty help or a mess to clean up) and those who really like to hear themselves talk (recounting a football play or chatting about a thought that just popped into their head).  In addition to this, each child often feels that their verbal contribution is of the utmost importance and so there can be a lot of budging and interrupting, too.  Then you have the wonderful tendency for each child to repeat themselves 3-4 times and you have a recipe for madness!

I'm sure that it is frustrating for the kids, too.  They are each important.  What they have to say is important.  Their need to be heard is important.  When our kids feel like we hear them, they also feel like we value them ... and what they have to say.  Unfortunately, that doesn't change that Mom still just has two ears and can only truly listen to one person at a time.  As a side note, this would appear to be hard evidence against evolution.  If we evolved ... we would have about a dozen ears!

In light of the need for our kids to be heard and our need for our ears to have a fighting chance, we work hard with our kids to take turns and not interrupt.  A few ideas that we use are the following:

1. We encourage our kids to come to wherever the person they need is.  That way they know if the person they need is available or if they are already talking to someone.  That sounds simple, but I'm always amazed that my kids still call from other parts of the house and will still walk in and interrupt a conversation in full-swing!
2. If they need me and I am on the phone, we ask them to quietly put their hand on my arm or leg.  That lets me know they need me and I try to respect that by being quick to find a moment in my conversation to excuse myself briefly and attend to them.
3. We have a "just a minute" signal that lets the interrupter know that they need to wait a moment. This helps the interruptee know that they will be heard 100% before Mom moves on to the next kid.
4. Give them air-time ... by modeling to them how to listen, they learn how to listen and take turns talking by watching us.
5. Practice, practice, practice!  This doesn't happen overnight, but we're investing in polite and respectful kids.

Now ... what about Mom's need to be heard?  I would say that this is one of the hardest parts about being a mom; one of those parts of mothering that hurts the most.  I have found that unless I am intentional about taking the opportunity at appropriate times to talk ... it's more likely that this will be a part of me that is sacrificed.  Being Mom often means hearing everybody ... but not being heard.  There have been seasons of mothering in which I felt like I was a mute.  Lots and lots of feelings and thoughts and no opportunity to express myself.  I would look for a "good time" to talk and find that either my schedule was too full or my hearers weren't listening.  So ... I would put aside those thoughts and find that there were new ones that popped up and replaced the old ... but still weren't given any air-time.  Pretty soon, I'm sitting with lots of thoughts in my head that need to be heard and no real plan as to how to get them all out in any sort of order that doesn't sound like Bob Wiley from What about Bob?, "I need, I need, I need!"

And often it's not super important stuff ... it's just the bits of info we acquire throughout the day that we want to share.  Maybe it's something we read or heard on the radio or perhaps it's an experience at the store (either funny or frustrating) ... it's the normal day-to-day parts of life.  But then other times, it is the big stuff.  And then it's even more important to be able to share those thoughts ... and even more frustrating when we can't.

Seeing as this is an issue that I still deal with :) I don't know that I have any real solutions to offer you, but I do have an idea or two.

1. Take the time regularly to talk to someone.  You might even need to be intentional and plan it into your day.  Turn off the TV and get some good face-time.
2. Communicate your need to be heard.  Those around you don't know you are full of thoughts unless you tell them.
3. If all else fails, write down your thoughts ... sometimes just getting them out of your head and onto paper is what you need to "clear the air".
4. Of course, I would be remiss if I didn't plug prayer here.  :)  It is a great comfort to know that God is always ready to listen to me.  And if I am paying attention ... He talks back to me:  through the Bible, Jesus music (as Ashley calls it) and others around me who love Jesus and help remind me of His promises.

When we are needing to be heard, I think that it's easy for us to get caught up in ourselves (our own natural selfishness kicks in!) and forget that others need to speak what is in their minds and hearts, too.  (Kinda like our kids!)  I read a book recently that had a quote that both convicted me and challenged me to look at communication a little differently.  Alexander McCall Smith is the author of "The Unbearable Lightness of Scones" among many other books.  During an interaction of two characters, Smith writes this, 

"How often have I noticed or, indeed, listened to him?  We talk, but do I actually listen, or is our conversation mainly a question of my waiting for him to stop and for it to be my turn to say something?  For how many of us is that what conversation means - the setting up of our lines?"

So I guess this post goes full circle ... we need to talk, but we also need to listen ... and talk ... and listen.   Hey ... that's kind of how conversations are supposed to go! :)

Yes, we have two ears so that we will listen more ... but we can't ignore our own need to talk, too.  It's our job to find the balance ... and then teach it to our children! :)

Failure Is An Option ... I Guess

Yesterday I went to one of my not-so-favorite places.  The dentist.  To all you dentists out there ... please don't take offense.  :)  It's not a terrible experience, but I don't rate it up there with, say, Disney Land or the a trip to the Grand Canyon ... or even dinner and a movie.

In the past several years I have become much more diligent in my dental appointments, mainly due to a dreadful bout of gestational periodontal issues when I was pregnant with Ashley.  Don't ask me why my gums would be affected by my growing belly, but they were.  Eight months pregnant and an ouchy mouth ... and the threat of pre-term labor is not a great combo.  Unfortunately, my body didn't want to be normal and I have continued to have some mouth problems due to hormones and nursing.  Again ... what's the connection?  Who knows?!?

Anyway, due to this history, I have become quite faithful to flossing daily and brushing my teeth regularly.  Why would I go into such lovely detail for you?  Because yesterday my hygienist pointed out not one, but TWO cavities!  I have not had a cavity since I was six years old ... and it was in a baby tooth!  I don't think we even did anything about that one ... we just let it fall out seeing as it was already wiggly.  And the crazy thing is that, because of my current mouth-recovery-program, I have been going to the dentist every 4 months ... which means these two developed pretty quickly.  I have been assured by the dentist that they are small and will be easy to fill, but it's still not something I'm looking forward to.  And add to that the cost!  Gulp...

To add insult to injury, I had to go home and tell my kids.  My kids who brush their teeth haphazardly, floss minimally and yet, who between their 80 teeth, have no problems.  Grrrr.... Now don't get me wrong, I don't want my kids to have cavities.  I am literally quite surprised that we haven't had any yet, but I have celebrated right along with them when they get their "Yahoo!" and their Red Robin dinner card.  It just didn't seem fair. :(

Then, last night as I was putting the older kids to bed, I had an epiphany.  At bedtime we share "Our Best & Our Leasts" of the day.  This is a great time to check in with each other and hear about any high-lights or low-lights.  The kids typically share about times with friends, either good or bad; things they got to do or things they missed out on.  Sometimes we get real insight into their days ("So-n-So was kinda mean to me today.") and sometimes we just get complaints ("My least is we didn't have any dessert.")  Last night, after the kids had shared, it was my turn.  I shared that my best part was having Daddy home for the day and getting to have dinner together.  My bummer was my cavities.  Aaron shook his head, a mixture of disbelief and disappointment.  Norah's eyes almost came out of her head.  The look of shock on her face was incredible ... and a little unexpected.  She stuttered, "How many times do you brush your teeth?"  I replied that I thought I was pretty careful and responsible to brush and floss well.  And then I added, "But, you can only do your very best ... and that's why we go to the dentist.  We do our part and he does his."  This is where the epiphany came in.

Here was a perfect teachable moment to talk to my kids about failure, about not quite measuring up, about missing the mark, about being unsuccessful ... and about it not being the end of the world!  Somehow (and unintentionally, we promise!) Brett and I have managed to raise four perfectionist kids.  Each in their own ways, our kids set unbelievable standards for themselves and sometimes we have to walk through the wreckage of mistakes and missed-marks.

Last week Aaron was in tears about getting 18/19 on his spelling test.  He had mis-heard his teacher say the word "when" and wrote "win" instead.  A little ironic, no?  That didn't feel like a win for him, even when I hung his spelling test on the fridge.

Norah is super particular about everything and I have some real concerns about future ulcers with her.  :) She regularly gets worked up about being late to gymnastics or school, forgetting her library books and making sure everybody else is walking the fine line she is.

Ashley is a bit more laid back, but she definitely beginning to show some signs of perfectionism.  Lately we have been working on learning to write the ABC's and if she makes a mistake she will painstakingly erase every evidence of the slanted "H" or the squashed "e".  Whew ... she can be quite particular.

Even little Lydia can be a bit picky about things needing to be just right.  She has been known to walk into a room, notice something different and exclaim, "Uh-Oh!"  She also loves to play with her shape-sorter and she will get rather frustrated if she has trouble getting them in the right slots in her usual speedy fashion.  I guess we start early wanting everything to be just so.

In light of these observations, Brett and I have tried to show the kids that inevitably we will each mess up and when we do, the world doesn't come to a screeching halt.  As much as we talk about this fact, however, there's nothing quite like a real life example to show them the truth ... hence my cavity caveat! :)

I'm glad that God opened my eyes to see this perfect opportunity to model to my children how to face a failure:  Extend a little grace to myself, try a little harder to make it right and move on.  This is also a perfect reminder to me that my kids are watching me all the time to see how I will react in all of life's situations.  I hope to be a good role-model for my kids.  And of course, when I mess that up ... I'll have yet another perfect opportunity to show them how I handle that, too!