The Happy Place

I've mentioned that we've been going through some change here at the Rust abode. From Beck's perspective, having a nanny here 3 days a week might be the biggest change of his life. Before this his dad was with him everyday, and on the occasion he wasn't, it was his Grammy - which is pretty much the 3 year-old equivalent of Mardis Gras, all party, all the time.

But now, three days a week, Erica, our nanny, comes over. From my perspective, she seemed like a big party too, immediately the two of them were forming a rock band, having dino adventures, making huge Play Dough feasts and having Pandora fueled dance parties. Still I knew this was going to be an adjustment. I mean essentially, this was a total stranger and until we all got used to her, it was going to be a little weird. So when Beckett started crying, inexplicably, when he would wake up from naps or inquiring nervously each morning who would be with him and his sister that day, I expected it and tried to comfort him as much as possible.

Then a side of him we don't often see started coming out a little more frequently, an angry side. I am not one for time outs or yelling and screaming to combat undesirable behavior. I read a quote from Dr. Jane Nelsen, who wrote a book on making time-outs positive and I really love it. "Where in the world did we get this crazy idea that in order for children to do better, first we have to make them feel worse? Children do better when they feel better."

Nelsen talks about the useful side of time-outs - giving the parents and the kids a break from their emotions or separating themselves from the thing that made them angry. She suggests having a "feel good spot" where the child can go, alone or with the parent to collect themselves. (Note: I haven't read the whole book, just a good article on it by Kelly Bartlett.)

So when I told Beckett to choose a plate for his dinner and he clenched his fists and screamed, "I DON'T WANT TO!" and then gritted his teeth and collapsed in a heap on the floor, I asked him if he could go anywhere in the house to feel better, where would it be. He mumbled "the sofa," from the bottom of his heap.

"Okay, let's go there," I said. He got up and half crying, made his way over to the sofa in the family room. I sat down next to him and he snuggled in a little. I said, "You got pretty angry back there." He nodded and I asked if he knew why.

He said, "I'm just so tired of everyone telling me stuff." I understood this as he was tired of being told what to do, most likely by all the tall people around him. This was a sentiment he had expressed to his dad recently too. He promised to ask Beckett if he would do things instead of demanding and I told B, there on the couch, that I would be better about that too. The poor kid was feeling very out of control of his life. I have to say, I completely know the feeling. So we sat for a little while until he felt better and was ready for dinner. Luckily Marlowe was napping through all this.

He's been pretty angry and sad a few other times since then and he has kept going back to the happy place - his term, that always makes me giggle a little. Sometimes he wants his dad or me there, sometimes he wants to be alone. But it's working for him and that is something to be thankful for.

And speaking of thankfuls - I am thankful to everyone who honors me by reading this blog. Wishing you all some quality family time over the next few days. Much love ~S

Beckett - Three Years Old

Three years seems like nothing. No time. But looking at the almost magical transformation, we call it "growing," that has happened to my sweet Beckett is, truly, amazing. He's gone from a spazzy, drooling, screaming, little miracle to a thoughtful, joyful, verbose, little boy. Yes, he has nearly shed all of his baby and is fully a boy these days.

He can count, knows his ABCs, and blows me away when he pulls out sentences like "which book would you prefer?" He can catch, kick and throw a ball. And is starting to do cool stuff like clear his plate from the table and get himself dressed. He also is the worst at potty training and asks embarrassing questions, such as, "did you say excuse me because you farted or burped?"

He makes me laugh every day and I am thrilled and honored to be his mom.

Dealing With Jerky Parents

My husband takes Becks to preschool twice a week. He loves it. We love it. The school is amazing, the teachers, the parents, we've been nothing but impressed. Or that's what I would have said yesterday. Going forward, I will add "for the most part," after the parents bit of the sentence.
Today B got pushed down by another little boy in class. Big deal, right? Happens all the time. Yes. Kids are emotional and do inexplicable things sometimes. This is no exception.

My husband happened to be watching as a little boy ran up and pushed B, causing him to fall out of shoes, hit the ground and basically become a sobbing mess. He wasn't expecting it and didn't see it coming. Poor dude.

As my husband consoled him and helped him put his shoes back on, his cries attracted the attention of the teachers, who are always loving, and the mom of the pusher, who quickly made excuses for her child, with no apology. And that's fine. As I said before, things like this happen. I wouldn't even expect a 3 year old to apologize.

I have a sensitive son. He has a lot of feelings and we encourage him to express them, for as long and in whatever (productive) way he needs to. So as Hillary comforted him, the mom made a comment about how Becks was overreacting. And this is where I clench my jaw and my eyes get super wide and I nod at your wordless sympathizing that she would have the nerve to be all judgey about a two year old that her son pushed down.

I am proud of Hillary. He stayed level headed in front of the kids and the teachers, ignored the woman, made sure B was good to go and left, even though he was furious and commented to me later, that he'd never felt that type of anger before. That protective type of anger. He did exactly what he should have though and was the bigger person. I am so proud of him, because I am not sure I would have had the restraint to not give that mom at the very least a look and a snarky comment.

I am very supportive of other parents. I think we all need to help each other out and accept different ways of parenting. If you'd like to silently, or not so silently, judge me or my parenting style, go for it. I am an adult and I'm secure in my choices. But do not judge my child for how he deals with bruised knees or hurt feelings. And if you do, hope it's in front of my husband, because he will handle it better than I.

Boys vs. Girls

I read a really nicely written blog post today by Kim Simon about the Steubenville rape and how we need to take responsibility for raising kind, caring and tuned in sons, not just as people, but specifically with their future sexual partners. You should read it, here's the link.

She hit on something that really resonated with me. My son, Beckett, is two and a half, and at the end of June we are expecting his little sister. I have always wanted one of each. I wanted to experience the differences and similarities of raising someone my own gender and one of the opposite, plus boys against girls on family game night and, yes, I'll admit, I want to buy cute girl clothes. However when I found out I was pregnant this time around I wondered if maybe a boy would just be easier.

I've got the hang of this boy raising thing now, I thought. We keep the visual media to a minimum, curb the violent play (which seems to crop up out of nowhere) with plenty of creative, independent play. We use gentle discipline and help him work through feelings that he doesn't understand, just as Simon suggests in her article. He is kind and we hope to keep him on that track. With another boy, I could put him on that same track and I'd be dodging the pink and purple onslaught from well meaning gift givers. Then there's the princess culture, body image issues, revealing clothing at too young an age, the worries about having a girl stacked up in my mind very quickly.

But Simon goes on to point out that raising a kind boy, something that isn't really that common a goal for rearing males in our society, is only the first part. As he ages there needs to be lots of frank and open discussion about sex and that really scares me. I'm not sure I know how to do it.

My parents are my best friends, but for whatever reason, that is not a subject I have ever been comfortable speaking about with them. When I was a sophomore in college, my dad, who knew that my boyfriend was coming to visit me down at school, asked me frankly and in a friendly tone if we were having sex. Of course we were.

I freaked.

"Ah! Dad, I'm not talking to you about this. Mom! Tell him to stop!" I escaped as quickly as possible to my bedroom.

What could my dad have done differently? Perhaps, have been my mom, other than that I have no clue. But I have time to learn and as Simon points out the conversation will change as he grows.
I think the take away here is that we worry about our girls, and with good reason, a lot of thoughtful parenting is required in this day and age to raise confident and self aware young ladies. But we should be giving as much thought to raising our boys and it doesn't stop with instilling them with empathy, it starts there.