Skype Saves the Day

Greysen and I are together every other week through the summer.  I find it extremely difficult mid-week to find my grounding while he's gone. Everything seems off; maybe it hits me that we still have another half week to go before we see each other. Usually by Wednesday we get to Skype or talk on the phone. This week we Skyped and it was so sweet.

Greysen: Mama, it feels like 12,000 eons since we saw each other.
Me: Yes, when you really miss someone, it always feels longer than it really is.
Greysen: Yeah, especially when you love someone.
Me: Yes, and I do love you.
Greysen, with his head in his hands: Yes, and I do love you too.

And with that, I felt better. Although we know our kids love us, hearing it makes all the difference.

Still Finding My Grace

I'm in the second session of a class called the Circle of Security.  It's a parenting class that has turned out to be a class about how to connect with people.  It has changed my life. 

Most importantly for this story, it has changed my parenting.  I can relate to Greysen on a different level.  I have the permission to just let him feel through life instead of taking on the responsiblity to fix every emotion.  Turns out, the more I let him feel, the better I feel and the better it is for him.  Who knew? 

Although I have so many less instances of feeling hopeless, helpless or just DONE, I still feel this way sometimes.  It happened the other night.  Greysen was up waaay LATE (early?) due to our travels back from a trip to see the MN contingent of the Sweetest Family In All The Land.  It makes for the perfect storm when I'm tired, G is tired and we are scrambling to get back into the swing of things called "Reality." 

After approximately 42.3 MILLION attempts to get me back into his room for water, bug repellent, dinosaur removal, and generally anything-that-will-get-Mama-back-in-there, I LOST it.  Screamed.  Obscenities. Loudly.  My dog barked at me.  Even he knew.  Not good. 

This, of course, does not result in the desired outcome.  Greysen cried, I cried, my dog barked, and I am certain the tenant upstairs quickly typed out his 30-day notice.

And I felt horrible.  I knew it was a mistake immediately after I did it.  I took a breather and held my son for a very long time.  I said I was sorry 42.3 MILLION times until Greysen finally stopped me and said, "I know you're sorry, Mama."  And then I cried more. 

I still get teary just writing this even though I also somehow feel better just admitting it.  And then I read this yesterday.  The internets had me in mind yesterday when this circulated.  http://momastery.com/blog/2015/03/04/grace-good/  And then I thought that maybe some other good Mamas out there might need this sometimes too.  Because I think we're always finding our grace.
 

Yeast and Mushrooms

I love conversations with Greysen where he exhibits that he really is still a 4 year old.  Greysen asked me, out of the blue one day, if I knew what a "funny guy" was.  I told him that of course I knew it was him.  He protested.  "NOOOO, a 'funny guy.'"  Understanding at this point that he meant something other than what he was asking, I looked at him curiously.  He said, "....like yeast or mushrooms."  It dawned on me, "Ooooh, you mean fungi?" 

I tried really hard not to laugh.

Boat Hitch

Papa will be okay.  He was in a horrific car accident this week.  Bruised, concussed, and in pain, but he's gonna be okay.   

His truck, however, is not going to be okay.  He was rear-ended and his truck ended up on top of the vehicle in front of him.  Sideways.  He is quite understandably perplexed about the fate of his truck (he's still a little confused too).  So, Greysen drew him a new truck.  It is complete with protruding parts to "push the other cars away if they get too close."  There are horns that keep cars from the top of the truck, parts to keeping them from all sides and spikes on the tires so he can't slide on the ice.  Most importantly to Opa, though, there is a boat hitch for him to pull his boat to go fishing.

Storyteller

Greysen recieved a book with no words from his cousin Sam for Christmas.  He loves it.  The pictures include dragons and kings and bridges and moats and all the things he already loves.  The greatest thing about this book, though, is that we get to talk while we "read" the book. I requested, "Greysen, can you tell me the story this time."  He began like this, "The illustrator of the story maybe wanted us to be scared that a monster will come out of these doors." 

"Illustrator?  Did you just say 'illustrator'? Where did you learn that word?" 

In an exasperated voice, "Do you want me to be the storyteller or what?" 

Resurrection

I am resurrecting the almost-dead and buried blog I once regularly wrote.  I am not making any promises about how long this will last but for those of you (my family) who will actually read it, I am excited to have a venue to share. 

Here's to 2015 and new beginnings!

Deep Stuff (Besides the Snow)

I have been attending a parenting class entitled Circle Of Security every Tuesday for 4 weeks now.  It's a commitment for another 5 weeks; two hours each week. While it's not a How-To Guide To Parenting, it is intended to help you connect with your child in ways that will help them feel more secure well into their adult lives.  And ya gotta be ready to learn a bit about yourself too and how you were parented ... It's deep stuff.  

I recently had the opportunity to practice the most important point I've learned thus far - acknowledging and "being with" Greysen through his emotions.  It sounds more complicated than it really is (or maybe not).  It's really about just labeling the emotion your little one is feeling, especially when they don't really know what it is.  Then let him feel it instead of trying to change it.  The very common reaction from a parent is generally to talk them out of the emotion.  You know the deal ... In response to their protestations about certain things: "There's nothing to be afraid of in the dark." "Oh you like school." "Oh, swimming lessons are fun."

Last weekend, Greysen started swimming lessons for the first time.  He's been swimming with me and his Dada multiple times so I know that he likes it.  For some reason though, he protested swimming. "I can't go swimming because I'm a taratula and tarantulas can't swim."  "I can't swim because I'm a T-Rex and they have really short arms."  In an attempt to talk him into enjoying swimming lessons instead of avoiding them, my response in the past would have been: "Oh, I know there are some T-Rex's that swam really well. And there is a special kind of tarantula that swims too."

Instead, this time, I responded, "Greysen, sometimes swimming lessons can be really scary.  Mama was scared of swimming lessons when I was your age.  Do you feel scared?"  Greysen's whole body posture changed.  He seemed to collapse into himself.  He responded: "Yes, I'm scared. I don't want to go in the water without my arm floaties.  And I don't want to swim without you."  Turns out he had all the wrong ideas about what swimming lessons were and what he'd have to do there.  And I learned that I had the wrong idea about how to respond to his emotions.

We talked more about how scary it was for Mama when I was his age and how sometimes learning new things are scary.  And then I told him that they can be fun too.  And that we'll just take it one step at a time and we'll make sure to do only what he's comfortable doing. 

By the time we got into the car to head to swimming lessons, Greysen told me he was going to be brave and get into the water.  When we got there, he went straight to the edge ready to jump in without arm floaties and without me.  The conversation gave him a whole new level of confidence that I didn't anticipate.  And it made me feel that much more connected to my little guy; something worth every minute I spend attending this class.