Last week, on Thursday afternoon, I had this weird feeling. I'm not sure if it was closing the chapter on distance learning for my 1st and 3rd grader for a long time (hopefully), the whispers about vaccines coming available for educators, the mild weather and rare sunshine for Northern Minnesota this time of the year, or the realization that I have recently begun to take for granted some of the amenities that come with my children getting older (like a good nights sleep or an uninterrupted shower or an uninterrupted trip to the bathroom for that matter). Maybe a combination of all those things. Anyway you slice it, as I trotted along on my 3 mile loop through Esko on Thursday afternoon, I drank in the cool crisp air and something about me felt lighter (which is weird considering the scale at home suggests I am still carrying around a few extra Christmas cookies). I felt so full of energy and hope for calmer waters ahead that I used the plane ticket vouchers from our canceled vacation last March and booked a trip to Florida for spring break.
Early Friday morning, my husband took off for a weekend fishing trip, and I noticed my outlook on being home with the kids, on my own for three days was, well, GOOD. I was actually kind of looking forward to it, and I have to say, it didn't disappoint. Right away Friday morning I was able to leave my eldest son, Nolan, in charge for 30 minutes while I went for a jog (for parents who aren't able to do this yet...I'm telling you. HUGE MILESTONE!). When I returned, the littles were still sleeping, and Nolan had the dishwasher emptied and was ready to start his day. After I got my two sleepy heads up and going, and Ryann off to daycare, I was able to sneak down stairs for a shower and a sauna. By the time I made my way back upstairs, I found the boys just sort of doing their own thing. Nolan was on his last day of Zoom calls and Brock was occupying himself by putting miniature toy figurines in cups of water and setting them outside to freeze (so he could later watch them slowly unthaw). Huh. I'm not sure of the last time I returned to my children on my own accord. I am so used to them needing me before I am finished doing...well...anything really. As I look ahead I see calmer waters, and I feel calmer because of it. I guess maybe that explains the lightness. When I look back on this past year, I am proud of what my family has accomplished on our trip around the sun. Last January, my husband and I started marriage counseling and have spent the last 12 months doing some really heavy relationship work (I've been calling it the 10 year tune-up). I remember having a discussion with a close friend about wanting to start therapy, and second guessing myself by saying, "But our marriage isn't that bad." She looked at me and said, "Yeah, but it could be so much better." She was so right. Both my husband, Jared, and I are givers. We are the kind of people who are at times willing to sell ourselves short, if by doing so, it will help someone else out. Our commitment to one another and our marriage had somehow slid down the list and taken up residence under kids, home improvement projects, jobs, extended family, youth sports, coaching obligations, you name it and it was probably on the Anderson List of Important Things, hovering over the top of "Jared and Alissa's marriage." Counseling has forced us to be accountable for our marriage to someone other than ourselves. I find it strange and a little embarrassing to admit that in order to give my husband the benefit of the doubt, assume the best of intentions, and consistently regard him with love and warmth, I needed to have someone to report to about it a few times a month. Something else that marriage counseling has forced me to do is take a good hard look at common themes in all of my close relationships, and the roles I often assume. I can confidently say that this past year the work I have done in my marriage, and on myself, has brought me a lot of clarity. Maybe that is what my 40's will be about...clarity. I had my eldest son five days after my 31st birthday, and entered my 40's during the first summer in 9 years that I wasn't pregnant, nursing, or changing diapers. When I look back on my 30's, I'm reminded of a quote I first read in the book, Distant Fires, by local author Scott D. Anderson. Such sights as these are reserved for those who will suffer to behold them. Eric Sevareid This life. This home. These children. It has been a lot of work. It will continue to be a lot of work. When I remember to stop, exhale, and to look around at what my husband and I have created, We've thrice been rewarded with a show that rivals anything we've ever seen. For you Scott D. Anderson fans, that's a paraphrase of his description of the Northern Lights on Gods Lake on his canoe expedition from Brighton Beach in Duluth, MN to the Hudson Bay. Much like Anderson and his expedition, the rough sees of the early parenting years have prepared me. They've strengthened me. They've challenged me, and forced me to take stock of what really matters in my life. They've encouraged me to look up and find something in the distance that I find personally meaningful and to use that as a guide. As long as I am moving in the direction of meaning, albeit very slowly and sometimes a bit sideways (other times more than a bit sideways) my life and my work have a purpose. My sister-in-law was telling me the other day about parenting a teenager. She said something like, As the parent of a teenager, you better have what's in your head straightened out and know deep down what you stand for because your resolve WILL be tested. The scariest thing about that statement is my 15-year-old nephew is about as pleasant of a peach as you will find. I love my kids, but I think I will enjoy these calmer waters while they last, because I am probably in for it. One thing I am encouraged by is this relatively new notion (for me anyway) that I can give my kids the sense of security and safety they need, while at the same time modeling feelings of uncertainty, anxiety, exhaustion, frustration, and even anger. The line that I try not to cross is a line where as the caregiver I don't become a source of terror to my children. My friend, Chelsea, recently introduced me to this brilliant guy named Dr. Dan Siegel, MD. Dr. Siegel is a clinical professor of psychiatry at the UCLA School of Medicine, author of a bunch of really good books including No Drama Discipline and The Whole Brain Child, and he is comedian Chelsea Handler's psychiatrist. I hope you're as impressed as I am, because he has a lot of really important things to say about parenting. Dr. Siegel explains that our children are born very dependent, and they innately attach themselves to us for the purpose of survival. He goes on to explain that when the very beings (us a parents) who are there to ensure survival, become a source of terror, it can often lead to some really messed up forms of attachment that translate into messed up relationships in the future. No wonder why this parenting gig feels like such an important job. The good news is there is no such thing as perfect parenting. We all mess up. Some, in more harmful ways than others. There is loads of research coming out about adverse childhood experiences that can come in the form of neglect, abuse, or household challenges like mental illness, divorce, violence, substance abuse, and incarceration. We now know that these experiences can have a negative cumulative affect on our life expectancy, and just as importantly (to me anyway because having a life worth living is just as important as being alive), the way in which we live our lives in connection with others. At some point, let me rephrase, at many points along the way we are going to either freak our kids out (that face-melting scene at the end of Indian Jones: Raiders of the Lost Arc may have done the trick on our kids when we watched it over winter break) or freak out on our kids (my kids can typically count on this at bedtime on Sunday night). The good news is these points along the way, can actually be an opportunity for our children to learn about the nature of human connection and the inevitable ruptures that occur in ALL relationships. Here is what we as parents have control over: Teaching our children the importance of taking the time to the repair the rupture and reconnect. You mess up, you make a repair. Even more important than the forced apology that I am guilty of enlisting my children in (mostly to show other parents that I am a good mom) is to model for my children the steps that need to be taken to make right whatever I have done wrong. In their book, The Whole Brain Child, Dr. Siegel and Tina Payne Bryson talk about two important strategies in the process of "making things right"
Last night I got really annoyed with my 6 year old son because, after repeated requests for him to calm his body and his brain down for sleep, he was climbing around on the bunkbeds like a little monkey. Today was the first day back to school and I really wanted him to be well rested in the morning. When 9:30 pm rolled around, and he was still wiggling and giggling, I kinda lost my...well you can imagine what it was that I lost on him. Tonight, before we start our bedtime routine, I am going to have a conversation with him that might go something like this, Me: Brock, buddy, I want to talk a little bit about last night. I am sorry for losing my cool and getting so angry with you at bedtime. (Note: I am not apologizing for being angry. I am apologizing for the intensity of my anger). Is it hard for you to calm your body down at night sometimes? (Note: Attuning to his feelings) Brock: Uh, huh (Just to paint you an accurate picture, he will probably be wrapped around me like the little monkey that he is and batting his big doughy eyes at me). Me: I thought it might be. I sometimes have a hard time slowing my body and my brain down too. (Note: Empathy). Did I scare you last night when I used a firm voice and pulled you off the bunkbed ladder and down onto the bed? (Note: More attuning) Brock: Yes! You yelled at me mom and I didn't like when you dragged me onto the bed. That was scary to me. Me: You are right. I shouldn't of done that. I took it too far last night. I am sorry. I think I get frustrated at night sometimes because I want you to have restful sleep so your brain is ready for school in the morning. Part of the reason why it might be hard for you to settle down is because we have been going to bed later these days with distance learning. I love you so much buddy and I want you to feel my love, not my anger, each night as you go to sleep. I will try really hard to keep my cool at bedtime. (Note: I am resonating with his disappointment last night and building trust by repairing the rupture) Brock: Okay mommy. Me: Would you like me to help you come up with ways to calm your body and your brain at night before bed? (Note: I am saying yes to his feelings. I am saying no to his bedtime behavior). My goal will be to emphasize connection through conflict so that my misstep becomes an opportunity for Brock to gain a better understanding of what it looks like to consider the feelings of others. Even more importantly ,Brock will hopefully learn what it feels like when someone considers his feelings. In order to face these situations head-on, I understand that the platform of self-worth I stand on has to be large enough for me to acknowledge that my behavior was hurtful to my child, but that it doesn't make me a bad mom. If you find yourself having a difficult time acknowledging your missteps outside of your own mind, looking down onto your own platform of self-worth as a parent, as a person, may be worthwhile. On a recent Unlocking Us podcast episode, guest, Dax Shepard refers to a book The Broken Ladder by Keith Payne. Shepard summarizes a notion from the book that, in our culture, we have a tendency to "up compare" or compare ourselves to others whom we perceive are doing things better or are better off than us. Shepard offers some salient parenting advice to podcast host Brene' Brown and guest, Tim Ferriss. He states: I would suggest you down compare. So on your worst day of estimating what kind of parent you’ll be, go to the grocery store, take a look around, and I guarantee even with your shitty, shitty evaluation of your abilities, you will see someone doing it far worse than you could do it on your worst day. In these calmer waters I know I don't have to paddle to survive, but if I stop completely I will be without purpose. I will no longer be moving in the direction of what is, and what has been meaningful to me all along. At hockey on Saturday, while we were standing around in the parking lot waiting for our boys to shuffle out of the arena, I visited with a mother of three children who are very similar in age to my three kids. I commented on how I was feeling hopeful for the months ahead, and our slow crawl back toward normalcy. The two of us shared a moment (yes this is possible outside in a slushy parking lot, freezing weather, and with face masks filtering our every word) and connected on how at the start of this pandemic we were still in the throws of diapers and naps and temper tantrums. This mom commented to me that at some point during this pandemic we had both emerged from the Dark Ages of parenting duties, but hadn't realized it because the circumstances of the pandemic still felt so bleak. Over the weekend I kept coming back to this space where I imagined my future self looking back and missing the moment I was standing in. Nostalgia. The realization that this moment in time is going to pass me by, and I'm actually going to miss it. In a way, I already miss it, just by having that thought. It reminded me of how Dolly Parton describes one of her iconic songs, Tennessee Home. She says something like.... What that song is...is about being exactly where you are. In that moment. The vividness of the imagery locks that moment in place. She goes on to say, I'm not leaving Country. I'll take Country with me wherever I am at. My home, my family, is my golden thread that keeps me tied to eternity. My husband. My home. My family. My Golden Thread. Thank you for sticking with me and don't forget to subscribe if you would like to know about future posts! Hey there! I have a little bonus Q and A. I often have friends, family, colleagues, ask for my advice on different parenting stuff they have going on. This one came from my college roomie group text and I thought I would share my answer. If you have any specific questions for me, send them my way and I will try to include an answer in a future post. Bonus Q and A: Question: Any thoughts on how to handle when one kid seems to have a chip on their shoulder toward one parent? Little brother seems to really gravitate to me (rather than dad) and I don't like that. It seems natural to have a slight preference but I don't like where it's headed... Answer: Try to support one another and don't give in if say the plan is for Dad to put him to bed but Little Brother says he wants you. Kids like control and if they can exert control by choosing one parent over the other they will do it....and keep doing it if it works. Also, remind Dad that it isn't about him. We all express emotions that invite others to either approach or avoid. This includes our kids, and it only gets more prominent as kids get older. Tell Dad to continue to approach even if Little Brother's behavior is suggesting he avoid.
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AuthorMy name is Alissa Anderson. I am the School Psychologist for the Esko Public School District in Esko, MN. I am also a mother of three and was certified as a Love and Logic Parent Educator in 2009. Archives
January 2023
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