Three Year Olds and Schedules

My 3yo is a classic textbook high energy kiddo.

Since she turned 3, Barefoot and I have been running around after her non-stop. Lots of dumping, lots of messes, lots of smearing and stirring and mixing of things that shouldn't be smeared or stirred or mixed. :-P

I finally had an "aha!" moment one day when I walked into the kitchen and saw she'd poured an entire carton of rice milk into a half-empty jar of peanut butter, and was dutifully sprinkling the soggy mess with a bottle of oregano. I asked in exasperation (after muffling a big blue streak), "WHY would you DO that??" She answered proudly, "I'm sorry you're mad. I'm making a recipe just like YOU, mommy!! It's tasty!"

My anger melted as I watched her bravely wince and ladle to stuff into her little mouth, grunting in forced satisfaction.

Snorking down a secret giggle, I seriously sat her down and we had a talk about respecting things, how she wanted to do things for herself, and how we could do both at the same time.

The solution was that she would be allowed in the kitchen and could have access to the fridge, as long as she only took food from a special shelf designated for only Mirth. She wanted a box with dinosaurs with snacks in it on the shelf. I went out the next day and got supplies to make the box, which ended up being decorated with dragons and knights after a failed search for dino stickers. :-P

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In addition, that evening, I took a blow to my free-spirited side (as well as my adult-oriented nature) and made out a schedule for our weekdays. (A big "Thank You" to my friend Allison for prodding me in that direction ;-) )

So far, it's working out well, and I'm staying a few steps ahead of her fairly easily! Whoot!! :oD

I'm trying to plan out "outside" time (at least 2 hours of it) every day, along with a general theme for the week that goes along with the season of the year. This week, it's harvest time and apples. :-)

Our schedule is completely subject to Mirth and Lark's natural rhythms, more a general order of planned things rather than a rigid itinerary. A few things, like lunch and naptime are non-negotiable and sacred. No trips or projects or stimulating things during sleepy time of day, lol, or disaster will surely follow.

(Soapbox of the Day: I, btw, completely take issue with the notion that parents who attribute "bad" behavior to sleepiness or hunger or illness are simply making excuses for sinfulness, and that recognizing rough times of the day will set them up to be "wild" adults. I don't know anyone who acts nicely when overly-tired. :-P I agree that parents should teach children self-control for times when they feel badly...I just believe that doing so means teaching them to take good care of themselves and getting the needs for sleep and food met ASAP, if possible! Jesus slept when he was sleepy and ate when He was hungry- I can't expect more than that from my kids! ;-) )

I found a lot of fun Waldorf-inspired hands on activities and nature themed verses to go along with our work and play. I love the playful teaching and structure it adds...

So far, so good! She's like a wild rose with a trellis to climb now, and we're all pleased with the result: the family's things are treated with respect, and so is she! :-D

The labyrinth

I really enjoyed this article that a friend shared with me. If you don't have time to read it, I'll give a short synopsis.

The author talks about how women who experience intense or fast births can experience a shock-like state after the birth train screeches to a halt. After sky high emotions and physical sensation (and extreme attention from her caregiver), suddenly labor ends. The new mother can often feel left in the lurch and forgotten at the abrupt end of labor, even to the point of going into a state of shock. According to the article, the people around the mother can help guide her out of the maze intact by helping her process her birth and by continuing to care for her mind and spirit in a generous way.I really appreciated what the article had to say, and it was good food for thought while reflecting on my own birth experiences.

My first birth was really painful, then really medicated at 7cm. I remember an odd, unfinished feeling after the epidural, and the pushing phase was hard work and gradual. Everything was a haze, and my clearest memories are holding my baby and her being brought again from the nursery.

My second birth was fast. My labor was peaceful, at home and very intense at the end. I went into labor with Lark in the midmorning, and was delivered by that afternoon. The time between the urge to push and her being on my chest was so short, and the birth were so intense. I felt so shocked and surprised and happy and relieved at the same time. And if my immediate care from my midwife, doula and family had been any less than nurturing, I can't imagine how empty and lost I would have felt.

Fortunately, this is what happened: I was dried off and wrapped in a warm blanket, and helped from the pool to my bed. My baby was glued to my breast, nursing like the calm, methodical little one that she is. Dh was on the bed beside us, beaming and telling me that he'd caught our baby, and my doula was spooning good food and drink into me. My midwife helped into a warm tub filled with good smelling herbs, and my baby came along with me. My mom and dad arrived with my excited firstborn, and brought me a favorite meal. I was allowed to sleep a long sleep.

Afterwards, my midwife warned me to not go downstairs too early, and to expect an emotional low if I tried to return to "normal" life too soon. If I tried to act normal, it would tell others I felt "normal" prematurely. How right she was! She encouraged me to revel in the afterglow of birth, and to treat my body and emotions with kid gloves for a while. She was telling me how to walk through the labyrinth of the birth experience.

When we enter labor, to cope with the strong emotions and sensations of birth, we tend to go "somewhere else" in our minds. Thoughts, emotions, fears, joys that are normally deep in our hearts come bubbling to the surface as it feels we are cheating death to embrace life fully. Our minds are tested as we relax our bodies and embrace each new contraction as it furthers our baby towards birth. It's an intensely holistic experience, calling body, mind, spirit and emotion to work together full force.

If a woman is in the care of people who realize the importance of post partum support (and if we ourselves are indeed aware of the need to surround ourselves with such individuals), then at the end of the birth she will be taken by the hand and guided and nurturing and recognized as vulnerable. When a fast labor screeches to a halt, those around her will be there to validate her feelings, help her process and sooth her pounding hearts and racing emotions.

If a woman is surrounded only by people who are concerned only about making sure she's breathing and physically intact, she is more likely to feel shocked, abandoned and numb after birth, and possibly duped by all the attention she received while laboring. Especially if the only the baby is the main focus, and not the mother-baby relationship, the mother is likely to feel disconnected and strangely empty.

Nurturing the mother and her relationship is soooo important for their next 18 or so years! Feeding mama, bringing her water, teaching her how to nurse, praising her birth effort, helping her mentally process the birth, carefully gaging her emotional needs, making sure she sleeps, delighting in her motherhood are such precious gifts that women NEED. They need these more than flowers and balloons (although these are super-nice too ). Doing this tells the mother "You're loved, you're worth loving, and you're going to be a really supported mom. You can really do this!"

Not only does it take a village to raise a child, it takes a community to birth a mother. I absolutely love the imagery of helping to guide the woman through the maze that is birth and recovery back to participating in daily life. I cannot think of a greater gift to give a child than a loved,nurtured mother.

Why, yes! She is rather lively, isn't she?

Our eldest has been special since day one. At 2.5, he's a friendly, sensitive, fiery little diamond who embraces life with passion, vim and vigor. I embrace each day with a dose of caffeine and a heartfelt "HELP!" shot up to heaven.

She's a smart little cookie. She likes to be understood. She'll repeat whatever she's saying until she feels you've fully experienced the heartfelt emotion behind her thought. She needs lot of verbal feedback and physical contact. Her mind and body stay in motion long after she starts rubbing her eyes and feeling cranky. She has a really tough time letting go of a day, especially if she's been learning something new.

She climbs, stacks, squeals, runs, experiments, talks, demands, shrieks, feels deeply, eats, swings, dumps, pours, splashes, scrutinizes, hugs, badgers and runs. All day long, her little body lives in perpetual state of motion and intensity.

She's very, very much like me.

I cringe sometimes when I'm out. Don't get me wrong, I burst with joy and pride over my sweet, energetic little one. But sometimes, as I run and scoop my bolting giggler (or screamer) into my arms in a grocery store, I can feel "The Look" burning into the back of my skull.

The Look says, "If that were my kid" or "You *know* what would fix that..." or "If you don't teach her who's boss now..." Sometimes the owner of "The Look" will even say those words out loud. And I feel tempted to blush, make excuses, and become angry with my little one out of intense social embarrassment.

Then, it starts. On the way out to the car, with my toddler yowling for a rice cake, doubt creeps in. Maybe that sour old man or the snarky college student or the mother with the perfect, docile child was right. Maybe I'm a lousy mom. Maybe I should just be meaner. Maybe I need to go home and practice "The Look". Maybe....

The problem with all these maybes is that they're against my better judgment. *I* know my daughter. I know what she needs. I know how she's feeling, what kind of week she's had, that she's itchy/tired/thirsty/missing daddy/adjusting to a new sibling. No one else knows that.

I know that a good, harsh threat or a "pop on the leg" will be enough to turn a bad day into a REALLY bad day for her. I know this trip to the store needs to be shorter, and that she *needs* the rice cake she's been asking for incessantly. She doesn't need a good spanking. She needs a few good laps around the back yard, a snack and a good rocking session.

So I start the realistic self-talk. Yes, it is important to consider others, and so if my spirited child is actually damaging something/someone, or making life unpleasant for those around her, I will see that she respects those boundaries and redirect her (or simply remove her from the situation).

But if my daughter is simply singing "Twinkle Little Star" at the top of her voice in the grocery, or running in the halls of the church, or having a two year old explosion at the park over some firm boundary she doesn't like...tough cookies. That's who she is, and she is, in fact, two. If someone doesn't care for children doing childish things, perhaps they should consider re evaluating the way they participate in humanity. Or becoming a hermit.

Assigning Positive Intent

Here goes the first entry...Dun dun dun!

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What on earth is "assigning positive intent"? Sounds like psychobabble, right?

Basically, it means trying to see the need behind a child's behavior. Or, as Dr. Sears vividly put it in an interview, get behind the eyes of your child. What are they trying to tell me? What words do they have to express the complicated emotions they're feeling? All behavior communicates a need. Sometimes, the communication is immature or inappropriate (ie: tantrums, yelling, exploring in "no touch" items, "sassing", name calling...), but it's an attempt to communicate a need, nonetheless.

The problem comes in when we try to assign adult reason and values to a child who is still physically, emotionally and verbally immature. (even for those of us who are "grown up", how many times a day do we communicate in a sarcastic. passive aggressive, rude, or inappropriate way when we're tired or hungry or emotionally drained, right? And we have mature morals and vocabularies under our belts!)
Around 20 times a day, I'm having to remind myself to step back and re-evaluate my own perception of my daughter's behavior.

Scenario 1: Is she melting down over me taking away an ink pen because she's rebellious and "never listens"? This was my first impulse: to get angry and feel she should realize the frustration she's caused me, as if she were an adult. Lose the labels, Aisling. And see this through her eyes.*Deep breah.* She wants to draw. Take the pen away, remind her it's not for her, and help her ask for appropriate drawing utensils.

Scenario 2: I found her in the sink. Again. Either she's directly defying my orders because of her sinful nature, -OR- she's intensely curious about the properties of water and in need of texture stimulation. (a very legitimate need for most toddlers!) I decided to view the scene through the latter lens, and told her "no.", pulled her down, and showed her how to ask for appropriate water play. We went to the tub, nursing baby and all, and had a great time.

Truly? I doubt "I will test mommy and directly defy her to see how angry I can make this much bigger adult" ran through her mind. It was likely more like, "Oh!! Water! I like the way it feels in my hands! I can climb!" Funny thing? Even if she did do it to deliberately test me, she's still expressing the need for boundaries. So my response would have been the same.

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Cool thing? Assigning positive intent works for tired parents, too. Because if we chose to see the legitimate need behind our own negative behavior, we can work on finding a positive way to fill that need so the error isn't repeated over and again. So when I blow it, I can step back, assess the situation, pinpoint the need, and find a way to meet it instead of just saying, "DOH!! I'm a royal jerk, and a lousy mom!" hehe

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Here's a moment a never want to forget from this week, mostly because it illustrates how my chosing to assign positive intent can seriously effect her entire life. I feel so grateful that I didn't miss this one. *happy tears*:

During a brain-spasm moment, I agreed to let Mirth watch the "non-scary" parts of the Prince of Egypt. Because I recalled it being a beautiful and touching scene, I allowed her to watch the "burning bush" scene.

Fast forward to evening snack time. Essie is slinging food and spilled milk off her tray with great concentration and fervor. In fact, she's so concentrating on her angry slinging, that she doesn't notice when I tell her to stop. (which, for us, is a sign that something's up)

I feel angry. I feel inconvenienced because I now have a mess to clean on top of cooking dinner. My first impulse is to smack her hand and growl, "No!!"

But I remembered to shift my attention (thank God), and noticed how very tense she looked. And angry. And very, very thoughtful. So I asked, "Hey Bee, you look upset. What's wrong?"

I kid you not, she looked up and said with a sad little voice, "I don't like God." After I picked my teeth up off the floor and desperately tried not to freak out and pull out the anointing oil, I asked her why. "Because He pick up Moses. God He picked up Moses and put Him in the air and I don't like it!" *splash splash*

"Ohhh, I see. And you're feeling worried that He might pick you up that way, too?" Sad little voice, "yeah. "
*splash* "Well...did you know that God doesn't ever want us to feel scared or worried? We're really safe with Him. He wouldn't do something to scare you, Bean. He loves you, and wants you to feel safe." Big smile. "OK."

Then, we talked about the tray, and she helped clean it up. And I thanked God that He urged me to keep my angry mouth shut, and my silly hands still.

Ye Olde Xanga post on positive discipline...

To discipline a child is not the same thing as punishing. Much confusion arises in this area of child rearing, because in Christian culture in the past 30 years, these two ideas have been equated.

Punishing a child focuses on the negative behavior and requires some kind of physical or emotional pain from the child. Examples of punishment would be spanking or some removal of emotional availability.

Parental discipline does not equal punishment. It means teaching the child and gently leading them towards the example of Jesus. No beating required.

Is parental authority God-given? You betcha! But it's not the kind of authority that demands to be recognized. It's the authority Christ modeled for us-gently correcting, appropriately rebuking, leading, illustrating, sheltering, and giving fully of ourselves. And patiently, consistently repeating that as many times as need be. We're given authority not to control our children's behavior, but to gradually teach them how to handle their own sinful nature and internalize godly morals. And that takes time.

The problem with punishment is that it addresses behavior instead of the heart. While spanking your child may produce faster results, those results are out of fear of punishment. Love is not the motivator.

Children aren't born with morals. In order for a child to internalize the positive reason why she should act a certain way (out of kindness, compassion, principle), she must be given the opportunity to fail and try again and again, all the while being gently and firmly prodded and guided towards right action. If physical violence is used to discourage a "misbehavior", then avoiding a punishment will be the child's main motivator for acting right. The imprint that physical pain inflicted by a trusted adult leaves in the child's mind is indelible. The child's moral development is somewhat arrested, because they carry the fear of shame/punishment into adulthood with them as their primary motivator for good behavior.

Related to this is the fear of losing love because of bad behavior. (Also a terrible reason to "act good".) No matter how many times a parent says, "This is for your own good" or "I'm doing this because I love you", what the child carries away with them is, I never want to do that again because I hate being hurt by my parent, and I hate disappointing them so.

The child responds with good behavior out of fear of displeasing his/her parents. They learn that acting "good" means being loved, and acting bad means withdrawal of love. As sons and daughters of God, are we not to extend God's unconditional forgiveness and love to each other? (And who are we, by the way, to play God and demand painful payment for sin when Christ has already taken the blame?)

From an immature child's perspective, what is punishment teaching them? What lesson do they really walk away with?

Teaching a child that a moment of weakness warrants corporal punishment sets them up for abuse and an unhealthy understanding of God and others later on in life. Thinking patterns established early on in life die hard, or not at all.

Here's what I mean. As a child grows to adulthood, in order for him to function in a healthy way within relationships, it is paramount for him to establish healthy boundaries for his own person and to respect the boundaries of others. Spanking completely undermines the idea of respecting his own boundaries from his earliest memory.

Spanking a child when he fails teaches him that his failing deserves a punishment.
It also teaches him that it's OK to punish others when they fail you.
How will that look when it plays out in his marriage? Friendships?

Spanking a child teaches him that when you get caught, you get hurt. Lesson? Don't get caught.

Spanking a child communicates that love and physical safety are conditional. If you mess up in a relationship, it stops being loving and safe. How will this effect his ability to be open and honest?

Spanking teaches a child that if she displeases someone else, her physical boundaries don't have to be respected. How will this look when she's dating an abusive guy? Married to an abuser?

Spanking tells the child that in order to be "cleared" from an offense, it must be punished. How does that effect his understanding of God's grace?

"This is going to hurt me more than it hurts you" communicates to the child, "You're making me hurt you. I wish I didn't have to, but you've forced me." I shiver while thinking of how many woman have used the idea that they're responsible for their own abuse as an excuse to stay in a destrictive relationship.

Please, dear ones, understand that I would never accuse any well-meaning parent of purposefully harming their child. Unfortunately, intentionally or not, spanking is damaging. The good news is that Christ is the inventor of new beginnings. The past is the past, and we can only be responsible for the present. God's grace is sufficiant for us, and for our children!

So, is it possible to maintain godly authority within the home without corperal punishment? Yes, it is!

I love this quote from Corrie ten Boom (the christian woman who survived the Ravensbruck prison for hiding Jews in her family's home..her family is an amazing testimont to grace and forgiveness):

"...we were disciplined without spanking. I cannot remember being paddled as a child, but there was no doubt in our family that we were to obey Father...We never spoke of "line of authority in our home-it was simply understood. Father didn't have to stand up and say, "I'm the head of this home!" He just was. We never felt any desire to have it any other way, because love and security of all our relationships were built upon the established fact that God was always with us, and He had appointed Casper ten Boom in charge of the home called Beje."
                                                                                                          -Corrie ten Boom, In my Father's House

More later on punishment vs. natural consequnces/prevention...

Making Amends

One of the things I learned from my dad as a little girl is that when you've blown it as a parent, when you've really blown it, it's good and decent to admit this to your child. I'm really glad I "caught" this idea while I was growing up, because it's served me well.

In our home, we "make amends" when someone has done something to hurt someone else. This reinforces the idea of taking responsibility for our wrong actions, and attempting to restore the relationship with the hurt party.

Why am I blogging about this today?

Today, I was feeling grumpy and overwhelmed by the clutter I was trying to clean, I had finally gotten the baby asleep, and was looking forward to having only one little person to take care of while I caught up on some laundry.

Just as I tossed several pairs of jeans into the washer, I turned around to see Mirth thrusting her doll "Baby Boy" into Lark's peaceful face. ALL I could think of is how hard it was going to be to get my baby back to sleep, and how my two year old had been told over and over not to interrupt her sister's sleep. I rushed over, grabbed the doll from M's hands and slung it to the floor, all the while growling sternly about how Essie was not to touch her sleeping sister.

Big tears welled up in Mirth's eyes, as she started her own upset chatter: "No throw my baby on the floor! No throw Boy! Mirth show Boy to Larkie, mommy no throw my baby down!!" She ran and grabbed Boy protectively, clutched him tightly and ran from the room.

That heavy "I've blown it" feeling settled on my chest. I tried to figure out what had caused that reaction (besides my angry tone. :-( )
Mirth had been showing her doll to her sister. She wanted to share with her, and was offering her most treasured possession. Assuming the best about Essie's intent was a start, and so I found her and dropped down to her eye level.

"Mommy's very sorry. I sounded angry with you, and I yanked your toy away hard. I was worried Lark would wake up too soon. Will you forgive me?" No response. I tried again. Still I was getting a funny vibe. Then I realized the look on her face was, "you're apologizing to the wrong person." My own voice muttering in my head "I can't believe what I'm about to do", and refraining from rolling my eyes or giggling...I picked up Baby Boy.

"Baby Boy, I'm sorry I yanked you away and tossed you on the floor. *Big kiss right on his plastic air brushed head* I like you a lot, and I'm sorry I hurt you." HUGE smile from Mirth. She stopped crying crocodile tears. Amazing.

In her head, Baby Boy is very real, and she's his mommy. She loves to carry him around in a sling and pretend to nurse him while I'm taking care of N'omi. She's emulating her Mommy. As upset as it makes me feel when she experiments with pulling her sister's hair and seeing her cry, it upsets Essie when she sees someone mistreating her "baby".

And that makes me feel good. She's learning compassion and kindness, even as she jumps on, pokes, and chews on Baby Boy. And maybe someday, when she's grown up and has her own toddler, she'll remember that her mom wasn't too proud to admit when she was wrong.

And maybe she'll find the courage to do the same. 

The Waterbirth of Lark

One week past my due date, I was feeling discouraged. I had been experiencing predromal labor every evening for two weeks, and each time I went to bed, the contractions petered out to nothing. So when I started experiencing strong contractions on Friday afternoon, I tried my hardest not to get excited :P My brother was visiting our apartment for the afternoon, and so I laughed and paced while I talked for a while, until he convinced me I ought to time them and call my husband, Barefoot Man. 

Eventually, they were bearable but coming 3min. apart, so I called my midwife, Debi, Barefoot Man, and my doula to warn them this "might be it". Dh came home, and we sent dd Mirth with my parents so we'd have a chance to relax. (But only after she helped daddy blow up the giant fishie pool we planned to labor in.)

I contracted in my living room 3 min apart from 6pm till 2am.  Nothing unbearable at all, but I was feeling so tired. I strongly suspected that dd's head wasn't engaged due to funky position in my pelvis, so I tried every trick in my book: big circles on the birthing ball, relaxation, walking, lunging, squats...nothing changed. Being a doula, I found this incredibly frustrating  I'm used to being able to help things! 

Finally, I felt strongly led in my spirit to go to bed. It was stronger than an intuition; I swear it was like the Spirit was whispering it in my ear. So, I did. And the contractions slowed down. I resigned myself (and disappointed dh) to the fact that this was a false alarm. 

I woke up the next morning, put my feet on the floor, and was greeted by a strong contraction with lots of pressure on my cervix! Her head had moved while I was sleeping!  And I was rested! I called my doula and asked her to come in an hour. My mw could tell by the tone of my voice she'd better hurry, so she headed on her way to my house.

This part of Lark's birth is so special to me...

An hour later, I was really feeling the cntx. In a big way. I was about 5cm. My doula and husband were amazing! I found myself feeling so incredibly peaceful and relaxed. 

(As a side note, because of past life experiences, I have a hard time just letting others love on me. I usually have to be in control of myself, and can't just let go and rely on someone else's comfort...)

But I found the more I relaxed in their arms, the more peaceful I became. My mw commented that I was incredibly tranquil I was. My doula and husband brushed my hair, rubbed my feet, wrapped their arms around me, held me and murmured gentle words to me. I honestly cannot remember labor being frightening or difficult! As each contraction washed over me, I drew so much comfort in my doula and dh's gentle effleurage. They played with my hair. They praised me. I felt God's hand sheltering me through each contraction. I can't even describe how incredibly loved and cared for I felt. I couldn't escape labor; my only choice was to relax in the arms of love and accept the pain and the comfort...and trust that God was guiding the whole experience.  (darn it, I'm even crying now...) Truly, it was such a healing experience for me personally. I labored this way for several hours

Barefoot Man and the mw's assistant filled the birth pool, and I was cleared to get in at 7cm. The warm water was amazing. And I went from 7cm to complete in 10 minutes!
Debi never checked me to see if I was complete, she just encouraged me to trust my body's urge to push. And what an urge!! (Since I'd been medicated for Mirth's birth, I'd never felt it before!)


 I think that was the most earthy, primal feeling I've ever felt in my entire life. The pressure was overwhelming, and the only thing that possesed my thoughts was, "Push this baby out!! NOW!!" All pushing was self-directed, and I felt so incredibly respected through the whole delivery.  It was truly empowering. She came at me so furiously, and descended so fast, and I had no idea she was already crowning after three contractions! All I could think was, "I can't do this much longer!!"

I screamed a primal scream, I think I shocked Barefoot, and was shocked myself to find that the only thing I could think to cry out was the name of Jesus. I kept hearing myself say, "Be here, Jesus! Be here with me!" I don't even recall cognitively thinking it, it was just pouring out of my mouth over and over.  And He was.

Lark was born after three contractions, and Barefoot Man got to deliver her at my mw's direction. He was so thrilled. I was shocked and overjoyed when she was suddenly plopped on my breast...like: "that's it? She's already here??" She is beautiful. 8lbs 5oz, 21 inches, daddy's-chin and-mommy's-eyes beautiful. I felt limp as a noodle and ready to conquer Everest at the same time! 


She nursed like a pro, and with great enthusiasm. I remember her looking up at me in a worried way, and then pooching out her lips in (what's now her trademark) pout, and then shudder-sighing and snuggling in once I reassured her with my voice that all was as it should be.  Soon after her birth, Barefoot, Mirth, baby Lark, and I were napping together on our bed. So, so different than anything I'd ever experienced before, in such a lovely way.