Daredevil Evil Genius ‘Baby’

I gave birth to a daredevil evil genius child.

While at yoga on Saturday, I get a text from Boof with this picture. Apparently he turned his back for a few minutes (my guess is he was in the bathroom) and he heard a lot of rustling in the living room…came out to find this scene before him.

Whoa, gotta get a leash for that kid, right?

Is the drive to climb things a leftover evolutionary trait from our life in jungles past? Because I don’t really see any necessity to it’s use today, except to get cookies off the counter. And he’s taken to climbing the changing table, and the TV console and possibly soon the bookshelf. I know that my biggest task is going to be to teach him how to climb DOWN so that he’s remotely safe and self-sufficient, but I really don’t like him doing the high chair balancing act on our coffee table.

There are some people in my life that are pretty judgey about my ‘letting’ Potamus climb on things. These people aren’t parents, though, and have no idea the exhaustion that would result in constantly telling him ‘no’ and making him sit still like a doll. And Facebook trolls friends on Boof’s profile had the nerve to write, in response to Boof’s caption ‘hopefully he will use his genius brain for good and not evil,”

“He will use his brain for both…..but a wise parent will instruct him how to shun evil and cling to what is good! This is not evil, however (unless he was told not to do this). It was brilliant!”

Which makes me want to throw up in my mouth a lot  little, and rage against the whole Christian machine because seriously? The sort of Christian drivel being spewed in Facebook posts makes me want to a) give up Facebook altogether, or b) teach Potamus about EVERY DAMN RELIGION OUT THERE out of spite. He’s not climbing onto the coffee table because of original sin motherfuckers.

But I digress.

How do I channel my son’s physical need to climb in a healthy and positive way? We don’t have the resources yet to buy a Big Toy climbing thing for the backyard, and the weather is crummyish outside, so going to the park after work (or on the weekend) isn’t as much of an option. When it’s nice, like yesterday, we took him (sans coat even) and he tromped down the sidewalk and hit things with a big stick. He’s definitely a physical kid and I want him to be encouraged to be physical in a way that’s safe for him!

What crazy dangerous cool things have your kids done that made your hair turn a little bit gray? How do you handle douchecanoe comments from friends and family members?

The Difficulty in Attunement- or- I suck at Boundaries

Apparently, I learned in therapy this week, that I really suck at boundaries. Don’t worry, my therapist didn’t actually say that, but the realization that I actually do suck at putting up boundaries, especially with family, was evident by the conversation I was having with her. Somewhere along the line I started to attune to the world around me. And in order to get my needs met, I began to change and shift and mold myself based on the signals I was reading.

Yes, I blame adoption.

But I know that it’s probably much more complicated than living with genetic strangers who didn’t have an “automatic” attunement or attachment to me (or I to them) like I’ve experienced with Potamus. And who knows if my natural attunement toward him is even real or just going to screw him up just as much.

But somewhere later along the line I obviously made an almost-conscious decision to be everything to everybody. And I really think that the things that set the ball in motion for my current angst was the decision to spend our honeymoon travelling to various family member’s houses for Christmas. I was still hemorrhaging from my vagina and I was doing the dishes, with Boof, while our son was passed around like a football. I had failed to set a good boundary. Sure I tried before he was born, but once I was in the moment, like many times, I’ve gritted my teeth and bore it until much time and reflection later I realized: I’m really freaking tired and annoyed.

Next week “the holidays” start. I love Thanksgiving. but imaging the drive over Snoqualmie Pass with my son and our dog in our Subaru to battle other Thanksgiving traffic to spend two days with my family seems exhausting. And yet I also feel obligated. It’s their year after all…we’ve put it off long enough. But Christmas only a month later I know that I am really stretching myself, again, and all I want to do is sleep.

See, we got married on December 20th. Where most people would just leave right away on their honeymoon, we spent three nights away, and then drove to Eastern Washington and then to Idaho on a family Christmas ‘road trip’ to spend the holidays with our respective families. Because we hadn’t ever spent a holiday with each set of our families, even while engaged, we though it’d be “fun” to do. And it was. I enjoyed the time, getting to really mesh with our new in-laws and also get to spend time with my family for my own lovely traditions.

But.

But.

As we’re closely approaching our fifth wedding anniversary, I look back and think how pivotal that decision was to our overall experience relating to our families. While it was fun, and it solidified our experience of the traditions, it also created a dynamic where we knew what it was like to not miss out…nobody had to give anything up…though, to be honest, the rushed dither from here to there and back across the state was exhausting. And it felt like in both places we were really only giving 80%. Instead of saying ‘this year it’s my family, 100%’ it was sorta like we were half-assing everything.

And then Potamus was born….on our anniversary. And now suddenly we’re in this dilemma of celebrating his birthday, our anniversary (my birthday a week before our anniversary) AND Christmas…with both families. I’m exhausted just thinking about it. I’m also exhausted remembering cooking “Christmas dinner” three days postpartum while my parents bickered over who had gotten more time holding the wee one.

So, tell me people, how do you put your and your immediate (children) family first and set boundaries with in-laws and extended family….especially when you also have the “I don’t want to miss out” mentality, too.

Roles & Boundaries in Higher Education

As an educator, I have to remember that I am not a counselor, even though much of my class is built around soft-skills and information that I would explore and work on in a counseling relationship. But, I am an instructor, and it is imporant for me to know the difference, as well as to create and stick with an educational boundary that isn’t quite like the boundary I’d set with a group therapy session.

Of course I knew that my counseling informed my instruction, but it wasn’t until I was processing a student-student conflict that happened last week in class (of which I had felt I handled it badly and was in triage mode the rest of the class period, as well as ruminating all weekend) that as an educator I actually handled myself very well. But, as a counselor, I was holding myself to this supremely high expectation that is not reasonable given my circumstances.

And, in my role of adviser, I am noticing my boundaries loosening quite substantially in the year that I’ve been there. I’m beginning to feel ‘invested’ in these student’s lives, so when one is crying in my office because of crippling anxiety, or proudly sharing their name change to their biological family heritage, I’m finding myself caring, which isn’t to say that I didn’t care before, but I had built a strong mental boundary to eliminate lying in bed at 3am wondering how they are doing or what might help them be more successful. I know the student relationships are what feeds me, but there is the phrase ‘death by chocolate’ for a reason. And the crippling sadness and despair found in many of my student’s is having an effect.

So how do I find the balance? Less counseling in the classroom, in terms of what I expect of myself emotionally, and more counseling in the advising office, in terms of how I deal with boundary issues. But I’m not entirely sure how to do that…

Thoughts? How do you navigate boundaries and self-care and the various roles you have in your life?

Manipulation, frustration or both? How to deal with toddler tantrums?

Pictures can be so deceiving. Like these, they show a slice of life…most notably, after Potamus has fallen asleep. While he’s never been a good sleeper, per se, the tantruming at bedtime the past few nights has really thrown us for a loop, and I’m not really sure what to make of it.

My gut says that he is a) testing boundaries and b) in need of help transitioning from fun to sleep. Because the first night we noticed it was when grammy and grampy were over, and we noticed him getting tired, so we whisked him off to bed. Arms outrstreched SCREAMING for my parents was heartbreaking, but he was sleepy and needed to sleep. 1.5 hours later, Boof and I exited his room, feeling exhausted and like we had “been to war” (his words, not mine). I realized that we hadn’t given him enough time to transition between the two activities, but hot dang that was like wrestling a smallish alligator.

So, we’ve only just begun really sticking to the bedtime routine of early bed after bath, stories, and nursing. I think the fact that it’s light outside doesn’t help and the fact that he’s nursing but not getting to the milk-drunk state anymore, so he pops off the boob and wants to play. We’re being firm in the rule that he can play on his bed, quietly, but can’t roam the room getting into the diaper genie or throwing blocks. If he doesn’t stay on the bed he can bounce on the exercise ball with Boof. Potamus  is NOT HAPPY about this arrangment.

And this is where I begin to wonder what to do…there are frustration tantrums, where he gets upset when I take a toy away or we leave my parents suddenly, and then there are these moments where I see so much of my own teenage stubborness in him. He was screaming and flailing all around the bed, and then he lulled us into a sense of security, and then BAM, he tried to launch himself over my arm and off the bed to play. It appeared calculated, and Monday-Morning-Quarterbacking, is actually pretty funny. But last night? Last night I was slightly pissed at, what appeared, to be manipulation.

Reminds me of the time that my dad was wrestling me to the ground because I was smashing mugs on our hardwood floor (I was probably 17), and he pinned me and I let myself fall limp for a minute to get him to buy my surrender before I began fighting again. It’s a good strategy in theory, but in both cases, it didnt’ work. After only an hour, Potamus was asleep, but it has left me with a knot in my stomach about what’s to come.

Boof says most parents struggle with bedtime routine, and I want to know from you all…is that true? Do all parents struggle with bedtime?

And I know that Potamus isn’t being manipulative in a Ted Bundy sort of way, because I have some grasp of brain development, but it’s the same thing with our dog…it appears that X + Y behavior = manipulation. It appeared that he stopped tantruming, thought about what he wanted, and then launched for it. I don’t know what to do, I think setting boundaries is important, and a lot of attachment-style parenting is preventing meltdowns by avoiding the stimuli, but what to do?

Suggestions?

It started as self-care…

As part of my decision to buck up my self-care regimin, I have begun to re-read one of my favorite books: Trauma Stewardship. Reading this in not just a backup justincaseidon’tgetthejobthatireallywant anxiety push, but because it’s good and important to take care of myself ESPECIALLY since I have a young one and still want to work with at-risk youth (even if it means I don’t want to do CRISIS work anymore).

I saw the author, Laura van Dernoot Lipsky, in a workshop a few years ago, and found the material to be AMAZING, like aloe vera to a nasty sunburn. So I picked it up, and one of the first things that stood out to me was:

There is a Native American teaching that babies come into the world knowing all that they will need for the rest of their lifetimes-but the challenges of living in our strained, cofnusing world make them forget their innate wisdom. They spend their entire lives trying to remember what they once knew.

This quote stopped me in my tracks. While I had read it before, and even read up and believe in past lives and lives between lives (aka, the soul realm), it really hit me in a different way this time…because of Potamus. He is such a kind and sweet and loving soul. Yesterday I yelled at Boof on the phone, not because I was angry, but because his phone wasn’t working right and he couldn’t hear me. Potamus started crying, like a hurt crying, but like a combination hurt/scared cry and he looked at me like, “what is that noise coming out of your mouth?!”

In a flash I flew back in time to all those conversations my mother would have about my using that tone of voice and how I just couldn’t understand what she meant (or I didn’t want to understand).

But in another instance, today, when trying to get my mother-in-law’s attention in the other room, I yelled again and BAM we had the same crying uncontrollably episode as the day before.

Hmm.

So here he is, sweet Potamus, born with everything he needs to know to navigate the world. All the trust and sweetness and love and innocence. And the world is going to try and take that away from him, and it will be hard and beautiful all the same. But I am learning something…my child is affected by moods…very much so. I’m trying to get ahead of this burnout so that I can learn to deal, in whatever situation I’m in, so that I can calmly, peaceably deal with my baby’s needs.

 

Boundaries

As a rather intimidating person, (my sister says I have the ability to change the temp of a room by walking in), I was shocked in the change of the general public in relating to me while I was pregnant. Normally my height, size, and general energy that I put out, left people leaving me alone while out and about. Somehow my pregnant belly was seen by these same people as an invitation to talk to me, ask me personal questions like the gender of the little womb-traveller, or the date when I would be pushing this being out of my vagina. Yeah, I mostly was annoyed by the lack of boundaries that happened while pregnant, but nothing prepared me for the even thinner boundary between me and the public by having Potamus with me.

So I braved a trip to Target on my way to baby group. I was running in for cold medicine and a birthday gift for my 8 year old half-sister. 10 minute trip, tops. With cold meds in hand (er…cart) I loomed over to the toy aisle, when BAM, Potamus decides that he no longer wants to be shopping and begins to cry. We’re not talking a little fussy wahwah, but a full blown screaming fit, with flailing arms, red face and tears streaming down his miniature face. Cheap cold meds weren’t worth standing in a long line, so I headed toward the door.

And that’s when a grumpy woman in sweats came up to me and said “oh, I love the little new baby cry”. Really lady? You think THIS is the time to COO over my baby, now that I am clearly rushing to get out of the store? She then proceeded to FOLLOW me toward the door asking 372 questions about Potamus (gender, age, etc). Seriously. She wanted to know whether the screaming human in my shopping cart had a pens or a vagina. If I wasn’t trying to compose myself and get the hell out of there without ruining the rest of the shopper’s morning, I could have probably thought of a witty/snarky remark to put her in her place, making her think twice about personal boundaries, but instead I just lifted his car seat out of the cart and carried it out the door, with her standing next to the candy/gum staring at me.

Weirdest experience ever.