O the various things that float by

1. Dance

This fall’s Dancevision concert at Culver Academies was on Amy’s birthday weekend. What a lovely treat for her last night.

The concert featured student dancers in various large and small ensembles, solos and duets, ballet and modern styles, recordings and the school’s jazz band and a few student vocalists, too.

One student — Asia — choreographed a stunning solo that actually choked me up. She has amazing technique, and expression as well.

I loved the first piece, ballet in several movements — ballet is just as beautiful, just as witty and clever, just as humorous, just as moving, as more modern styles, and it annoys me when people malign it. If you don’t care for it, fine — but it’s not because there’s anything wrong or outdated about it.

That said, I loved the more modern things, too.

I took modern dance in college all four years — I think I only had to miss one semester. Oh how I loved it! Not that I was particularly good at it, and I had no delusions of dancerly grandeur — but it was still wonderful to do. It’s great exercise, reaching every part of the body, in stretching, slow and quick movements, movement in a small space, movement across a large space, movement standing, movement on the floor. Unlike most exercise, to me anyway, it’s also beautiful and meaningful movement that nourishes the soul. Other forms of exercise nourish my soul a little bit, in that exercise does work on brain chemistry, and a body that feels good helps a soul feel good — but dance does it better.

Plus, we were blessed to have a pianist to accompany our classes, and he was very, very good. He always matched the music to the movement so deftly.

I don’t think there are any dance studios in Plymouth, and even if there are I don’t think we could afford for me to take classes “just” for the sake of having a form of exercise I enjoy, and yet — how lovely that would be.

2. Shopping with a conscience

One of my facebook friends posted the 2010 Sweatshop Hall of Shame, which I reposted, and another friend reposted after me.

I think I might have been in college before it even occurred to me to think about who was involved in making the things I had. One of my friends was in a production of the musical Working, based on Studs Terkel’s book of the same title. It’s a series of interviews with workers in various fields.

Starting to think about how one’s activities as a consumer affect other people can get overwhelming fast. It’s not obvious anymore — one store might have who knows how many suppliers in how many countries, shifting however often, and it’s not always easy to find out whether the suppliers are adequately paid, working in safe environments, and protected in various human rights. Some of the countries have good laws, some don’t, and not all supplier companies obey the laws. Some companies have inspections. Some suppliers lie and coach their workers to lie.

Looking at the labor rights organizations’ recommended shopping list is also a bit disheartening — there’s no well-known companies listed, and nothing local. Do you order something bland, boring, and expensive online that involves extensive transportation, for the sake of ethical treatment of workers, or do you buy at the local Wal-mart because it’s the only local supplier of what you need, and you want to avoid the transportation costs and keep at least some of your money in your own community?

Then there’s the issue of relationships — you don’t want to get so caught up in this or any other issue that your relationships suffer unduly. You still want your family to have a pleasant, joyful, peaceful home with things they can enjoy. You still want your friends to enjoy being with you. There’s more to life than any cause, and when every activity is tagged with conscience-raising, life gets exhausting and frustrating and dull quite quickly.

And yet — as soon as you see a face associated with that thing you’re coveting, it’s a lot harder to just buy it uncritically.

3. Sugar, sugar — and other abundances

Let me just say that it is interesting how an abundance of sugar — or any other food — can be distressing.

I don’t really think of myself as a Causie with a Vengeance — someone who’s out to sell the Simple Life to the universe — although I suspect some folks see me that way.

But, well, just four days of birthday cake has me stressed. Really, three days of it, with one day in between.

I love birthday cake. But I like it better when I have one really nice piece and then go back to regular life for a while.

I also like my refrigerator and pantry to be full of spaces — when they’re packed I get nervous. Will I eat the fresh stuff before it goes bad… I like to have enough things on hand to have choices, but I don’t like it when the sense of obligation rises above a certain threshold.

We’re on the holiday season now. Kick-started with little girl’s birthday, heading into Thanksgiving, with Christmas around the corner. Not to mention little girl still has Halloween candy she’s working on.

Again, I’m all for a splurge on tasty nothings once in a while — it’s just the overabundance of them, without much rest in between, that gets to me.

4. Thoughts on three

I forgot to make or buy a birthday card for Amy. And I haven’t written down any thoughts on her turning three. And I don’t have any right now.

Um…

Yeah. Maybe later.

5. Emotional peacekeeping

I think I’ve often taken on the role of emotional peacekeeper. I don’t like to see people being upset. I don’t like seeing conflict. I especially don’t like it when I’m involved, but it’s distressing even when I’m not. I often find myself trying to soothe all the wild beasts — either by the unproductive method of minimizing myself and my intrusion in the world, or by remaining calm and speaking calmly and offering calm advice, or by stepping in and separating people (like Amy and me).

I’ve made some progress on being able to tolerate my and other people’s distress — sometimes people just need to be distressed for a while and get through it on their own time. Sometimes I misjudge those cases, and don’t step in when Amy really needs me. Sometimes I think other people are surprised and disapprove even when I think I’m right to give her the space to cry and face her situation independently. Some people seem to get it.

Balance

It is challenging to balance work and play; me time, Amy / family time, social time.

This weekend I spent a LOT of time knitting. Very relaxing, mostly, and lovely to have an extended time to myself. Sometimes it’s hard to distinguish between false guilt (it IS good to have time to myself, to rest and be replenished) and real guilt (when the balance is tipped too far in my direction).

I bet Super Nanny would give us some kind of schedule (on a large poster, for sure) that would make sure everyone gets what they need. I could give us one myself, I suppose, except I sort of hate schedules.

Now it’s nearly bedtime, and the hat is finished. Except I’m not sure I like it. Except my list is still long and weighty, and I’d really like to move on to the next thing. Except I also know that there’s no such thing as “When my work is done, THEN I’ll have time for X” — instead time for X must be accounted for when scheduling work; point being, I need to be careful about not pouring too much time and energy into the work in order to try to get it all done and out of the way.

Behavior and faith

I grew up in church. My major awakening was in 8th grade, when I consciously both accepted Jesus as my Lord and Savior and felt as though he had “picked me up and turned me around.” Looking back from that moment, I can see that God was preparing the way for me, and yet that moment seemed / seems somehow definitive.

Point being, one of the things that scared / scares me about having a child is how to raise her in such a way that I both “bring her up in the nurture and admonition of the Lord” (PCA baptismal vow), and avoid having her thoroughly messed up and forever disgusted with Christianity. I used to half-jokingly say that I wouldn’t even mention God until she was 14. It seems there are so many very easy ways to bring up a child in a Christian home in such a way as to make them stumble. I remember reading in college Rousseau’s Confessions. Among other things, he claimed that a religious caregiver (aunt?) so carefully admonished and questioned him about sin that he, well, got all muddled and freaked out about it.

I think that behavioral instruction and discipline should be kept as simple and concrete as possible for this age of nearly three years. Tell and model what I expect. Give the simple concrete consequence when / if she disobeys (such as a timeout or losing the toy she wasn’t cooperating with). Express approval and appreciation when she meets expectations.

Lately when she does something annoying and observes that we get annoyed, she’ll ask “Are you happy with me?” We try to be honest and simple — assure her that we love her even when we’re angry, and that yes, sometimes certain behaviors annoy or anger us. When relevant, we’ll also explain that we’re just in a bad mood and irritable, and apologize.

At this point this is all at a very surface level — she is aware of emotions in herself and in others, can express them, identify them, etc. She’s beginning to link behaviors and emotional reactions. I don’t think she’s aware of consciously choosing a behavior in an effort to provoke a particular response. Yes, sometimes she disobeys while looking to see how we will respond, but I think it’s surface-y, not calculated or manipulative in the same way such behavior would be in an older child or adult.

So I don’t think I’m ready to talk to her about sin — or at least about how sin grieves the heart of God. I’m not even sure I’m ready to talk to her about God’s commandments for behavior. Our parental commandments seem to be sufficient focus for now.

I’ve told her that Jesus died for our sins, to pay the price for them, because he loves us so much. Whenever we take Communion, I explain that again, and remind her that this meal is a special way to remember what he did for us. I think that when she is readier to understand, she will ask about that word “sin” or something else about this. And when she asks, I want my primary focus to be on sin as the condition of being separated from God — particular sins mattering partly because good is good and bad is bad, reflecting God’s own nature and our design, and mattering even more because they break the relationship we are meant to have with him. (I just need to work on phrasing that explanation in toddler terms.)

Sometimes we’ve told her about her baptism, but I’m not very good at explaining that one yet, and since the Walkerton church has such a small congregation, we haven’t seen any infant baptisms to remind us to talk to her about it. We tend to talk about it when we look at her photo album, which includes pictures from her baptism day.

She also has a children’s Bible, and we read in it the stories that she chooses. Again — when she is ready, she will ask more about the Garden of Eden story, or about others.

I want to talk to her about Bible stories, sacraments, praying, and all, as things that are true and that can be left to stand as they are for the most part. I don’t want to intrude explanations where no sense of needing an explanation is felt yet, and I especially don’t want to make all Christian things about some kind of moral application. The best application of every part of Scripture, every bit in the worship service, etc, is to believe in Jesus — to put one’s trust and hope in him, confident of his love and gracious salvation.

Again, not that I’m okay with bad behavior — but at this point I don’t feel it necessary or appropriate to connect behavior and faith.

For the sake of the floor

Amy has been nuts lately with just getting out every possible thing and distributing them every possible place — scattered all over the floor, the couch, the chair, precariously added to already full locations… and she’s also been nuts lately with taking something out of its container, dumping it, and using the container for something else.

Can you imagine her in a Montessori school, where everything has not only its own container, but its own place on the shelf? Where whatever activity you’re doing must be contained on a small mat? And where every item is only to be used for its intended purpose?

I like efficient, convenient organization, like specific containers and places for things. I think it makes cleaning up easy, because you know where to put things and don’t have to decide each time. And it makes selecting and finding toys easy, too, because you know where to look for each thing.

I used to think the thing about intended purpose only was overkill — stifling creativity and all. The rising level of my irritation with the scattering and the container-shifting has made me think about that policy with more respect.

I still think it’s good to allow using some things alternatively rather than as intended — as long as the alternative use has no or minimal risks. Thus, go ahead and play the wooden spoon like a fiddle, using the spatula as the bow. But don’t use colored pencils as drumsticks — might mark something, might break the pencil, might break the tip.

Anyway — after Amy knocked over my full glass of water and I couldn’t walk anywhere on the floor because her stuff was everywhere and when I asked her what she was doing when the glass fell over and she didn’t answer and I got so irritated and she said she did it on purpose even though I think she was actually playing with something on top of the glass which I must have noticed peripherally but not for sure and then we asked her to clean up her things so we could walk and she balked and procrastinated and was only somewhat obeying and was doing the look at you while not obeying thing and that was irritating, too — anyway, we put her in a nice long timeout and we took all the extant toys to the basement.

And instituted a new rule. One I’ve been meaning to have anyway, but have been uncertain about how to apply and enforce without unnecessary strictness and stifling.

Before getting out a new toy, put away the previous one. Where it goes, not just in a convenient place nearby. And if you want to use a container that’s already being used, find a different one for its contents first. And be sure to switch things back when done.

But there’s nothing wrong with playing with multiple toys — the Little People and some stuffed animals can frolic in the house made of blocks, or the checkers can be pretend cookies made with the kitchen set and served on the tea set. So — maybe a limit of three toys at once? Or some such… She has such a tendency to just go from one thing to another and back again, so it’s not obvious to her or to us when she’s done playing with something. And of course if we ask, she says she’s still playing with it, or leaves the more recent thing to go back to it. It can get circular — just ask about the thing just left.

And the new rule will require a little more vigilance on my part — which I am not looking forward to, but which I think will be good for us.

Also: A tip — when grumpy (especially if the grumpiness is due to a frustrating task like trying to figure out how to sew a lining onto a knit item), don’t keep pushing through — get up and do something else.

Food adventures

I’ve been thinking lately about vegetables. Part of it was the health screening — said I need to eat more fruits and vegetables and I realized I really don’t get as many servings as I’m supposed to. Part of it is Amy’s changing tastes, and frequent rejection of vegetables. I’m thinking variety — in kinds of vegetables and in recipes and presentation — will help both of us.

For example — she will eat her veggies if I give them to her first while I finish making the rest of the lunch.

Also, I should put some on her plate whether she wants them or not, and not bug her about eating them or not. Calm persistence is more persuasive than irritated insistence, and if I don’t give them to her because she says she doesn’t like them, she’ll never change her mind and try them anyway.

On Friday, I made tomato green bean couscous. Sauteed garden green beans in minced garlic and butter. Cooked couscous according to package directions, in water with a slice of butter. Cut up garden tomatoes and drizzled them with olive oil and basil. Mixed it all together — easy and delicious.

Today I made this lentil soup — yes, I even bought saffron. I made it with spinach. The soup is interesting — much more bright / tart than I usually care for. Some of that is likely the yogurt, and a lot of that is probably that I used frozen garden tomatoes, rather than canned — garden tomatoes seem more tart and bright tasting than store canned tomatoes. I think crumbled bacon and beef broth would improve the recipe, but then again it wouldn’t count as meatless then.

Saffron is interesting. I’m not sure yet that it’s a flavor fabulous enough for the price, but now that I’ve got some I’ll try some other recipes here and there.

Amy ate her soup and asked for more. Mark didn’t care for it but ate it.

We had it with the egg bread from Better Homes and Gardens New Cookbook — with 3/4 whole wheat flour, 1/4 white. First time I’ve used the dough hooks on my hand mixer, and they did quite nicely until the last bit of flour, and by then it was ready to knead.

Another one I want to try is this corn pudding in acorn squash.

Carnival Against Child Abuse

Carnival Against Child Abuse

(A blog carnival is a collection of posts from many different bloggers about a particular topic.)

You all know that I work at two things in my parenting that seem to be in tension with one another: maintaining healthy space for myself and my needs, and being a safe, good, loving, compassionate, and respectful mama for my daughter.

You know that each of these things sometimes makes it hard for me to work on the other one. When I am feeling more need for my own space, I can feel Amy as a hindrance. When I am feeling more like an inadequate mama, I can feel myself as the hindrance to both of us. It’s challenging to keep looking for the necessary, the healthy, balance.

Several of the blogs I read are written by survivors of childhood abuse. I found them, or they found me, because we both write about mental health issues.

Reading some of the things they write sometimes renews both sides of my parenting tension. When one of these survivors reminds readers to “Love your inner child,” or posts a painting of a mama holding a child, and another child standing in a corner, with the caption, “Are you holding or ignoring your inner child?” it reminds me first of all to hear the whiny and defensive inner call for more me time and space as the voice of my inner child, and to respond compassionately*. It reminds me secondly to keep hearing the (sometimes unspoken, despite all her chatter) voice of my daughter calling for more together time and space, and to respond compassionately* to her as well.

It’s when one is not feeling well-loved that one gets insecure, defensive, grumpy, inadequate, and so on. I need to love both of us well — me and her. And I need to drink and eat, more and more, how lavishly the Father loves both of us.

*Compassion doesn’t always mean giving what is requested. But even when the answer is “no,” it can be given lovingly, sympathetically, and respectfully.

Corrections

One of the things I’ve been criticized for (gently and otherwise) is having unrealistic or unreasonable expectations. This was especially clear in my camp counselor evaluations and during my work at a Montessori school, and in my therapy with Joe. I think I’ve made a lot of progress… but it’s still an issue.

1. Amy. I’ve been so irritated by her contradictions lately. She’ll be doing something not allowed, and I’ll look at her or say something, and she’ll just start shouting “No!” over and over. Or she’ll want me to play with her instead of doing something I’m working on by myself, and if she asks several different things in a row and I try to divert her attention by reminding her that she has her own toys, she’ll contradict that: “No, I don’t!” or “I can’t do anything!” If she’s in THAT kind of mood, there’s no reasoning — everything is black and white, all or nothing.

I really ought to understand all that stuff. Sometimes I have moods like that, too. Letting the mood pass without trying to reason through it is more effective — there’s a time for reasoning and a time for quiet patience and empathy.

Plus, there’s “subjective truth.” This is an idea I learned about from Joe. Basically, there is objective truth, like Amy does in fact have her own toys. Then there’s subjective truth — the truth of Amy’s feelings, wishes, reactions, perceptions, etc. Her toys may as well NOT exist when she’s in THAT mood. I need to be better at acknowledging the feelings that are behind such words, and less concerned about correcting the objective truth issue.

Tricky, isn’t it? I want Amy to understand truth, be truthful, be reasonable, speak respectfully even when she’s upset… those are good goals, but I need more patience and wisdom in pursuing them most appropriately. In balance with the other goals of being compassionate and respectful, acknowledging subjective truth, allowing strong feelings and expressions of them.

So even though I hated having my friends tell me so, y’all were right — these contradictions are not really the hill I want to die on.

2. Therapist interview questions. I have sent my interview questions to two potential therapists. One never responded. The other hemmed and hawed a bit, then suggested the phone, then, when I prodded a little more in favor of email but expressed willingness to do the phone if necessary, told me to just look elsewhere.

My list of questions IS long. Several of them imply some in-depth, thoughtful responses. And yet I thought, if only someone would say, “Wow, that’s too many questions for an email interview — can you pick the most important five?” or “I’m afraid I don’t have time to do justice to all of these questions by email. A personal meeting would allow me to better gauge what kind of answers would be most helpful” or something along those lines. Of course I would love in-depth thoughtful answers to all of the questions, but I’m also willing to negotiate.

I sent my list to another friend who’s had experience with therapy, too. Her feedback was really helpful, even though again it wasn’t really what I wanted to hear.

First of all, she saw that I had three categories of questions. Some were appropriate for initial interviewing, things that are mainly seeking factual information like credentials. Others were better for a second round of discussion, and the last category were questions that betrayed some baggage from previous attempts to find good therapists. About that last category, my friend pointed out that people would be unlikely to be able to answer those questions satisfactorily and accurately — they’re the kind of thing I could only find out through experience with the person.

I don’t want to do it that way — I want to just find out, in one fell swoop, who would be a good therapist for me. I hate the thought of having to do three or four sessions to figure it out. But, yeah, that’s unreasonable and unrealistic. At least at this point I’m not looking for a regular therapist, but just for someone to have established in case I need someone in the future. (Shopping for a therapist is really difficult DURING a crisis.)

———

It’s not so much the learning, the advice, the better approach, that bugs me about being corrected. It’s the need to be corrected at all — I hate being wrong. I hate leaving any openings for anyone to look down on me. And I hate the condescension of someone beaming down at me to see how much progress I’ve made, how I’m really coming along, and someday might just be almost as good as they are.

Like water on stone

Firebelly, hydrant,
You pour continuously
Even when all you’re doing is
Lying around with your blanket and your thumb;
The feet are poking around, you’re wiggling,
Your eyes are intense, your will pulses out like an aura.

Like Japan in Truman’s eyes,
You won’t ever give up the fight.
If I say it’s naptime
If I say use the potty
If I say I don’t want to
If I say I like bananas
You’ll contradict with great force
Until hours and days and years have run by.

Not always, of course.
Sometimes you speak so politely and pleasantly
Sometimes you tolerate and adjust to things you don’t initially like

Sometimes you
Dance and sing and talk and color and play and laugh
Sometimes you
Do those things as fervently as you contradict me.

This morning when I took you out of the shower
And I said you would have a timeout
(You didn’t put down the toy when I said it was time)
You said no and I said yes
And you hit me
And you know that hitting earns another timeout
And I told you that, again, too
And you hit me again
And eventually you racked up twelve timeouts in a row.

(How I needed that twenty-four minutes.)

And when you can’t hit
(If I’m out of reach)
Or instead of hitting sometimes
You spit
And spit
And spit

Sometimes you spit instead of saying no

Patience, respect, gentle firmness, compassion,
I tell myself again and again
Advance notice
Consistent consequence
Pick my battles
Remember to relax and play sometimes…

And you wear me out sometimes, little girl

I love you, but sometimes you wear me out.

A few new Amy things

1. At a new faculty cookout (Mark is mentor to a new teacher), Amy played tag with some other little girls. One of the Sesame Street bits she watches with Daddy on his computer involves Ernie finally persuading Bert to play tag, and perhaps that helped.

2. Occasionally when she sings I can recognize a melody. Today in the middle of lunch she got down to pick up a green bean she’d dropped, and then ran around the house dancing and singing nonsense (phrases from other songs, items she saw around her, etc) to the tune of Twinkle Twinkle.

3. Today she was dancing to my friend Rick’s hammered dulcimer CD. One tune he plays a phrase, then pauses, then plays another, then pauses, etc, for an intro. I noticed Amy paused her dancing, too.

4. Our primary disciplinary action is a timeout. Lately this involves hitting (which earns a second timeout), and spitting (which earns another), as well as screaming and crying (which are allowed expressions of upset). A while ago, as I was writing this, Amy came out of her nap to use the bathroom, and wouldn’t cooperate with getting on a new diaper. The amount of spitting lost her her dog, her other stuffed animals, and her bedtime story. Now I’m second-guessing and wondering to what extent the spitting is willful, and to what extent it’s an involuntary response to the kind of scream she gets into and / or to the runny nose the results from crying.

7:50 8/12

At 7:50pm on Wednesday August 12, I picked Amy up for goodnight hugs and kisses. After I kissed her, she put her arms around me and said “I love you,” then gave me a kiss.