A Few Thoughts on Skepticism and Labels

I've often wondered how this all might look to someone who is not already familiar with spiritual/mystical kinds of teachings. There's a good chance it might just come across as a bunch of woo-woo, New Age absurdity. If you're one of those skeptics, or if you're married to one, I have some thoughts I'd like to share with you along the lines of suspending disbelief and seeing what happens.

To start things off, Lisa of MommyMystic offered this thought-provoking comment to an earlier post:

"As for the indigo/crystal theories, we will have to get a discussion going on this sometime. I believe there is something going on with this generation, and that many of the writers about these shifts are seeing something, but I have some issues with the 'they are here to save the world' theme. Also, based on Eastern theories of reincarnation, I'm not sure these things are necessarily new, just noticed more now."

I often wonder about this same thing. Years ago when I was teaching public elementary school, I came across a book about Indigos. Curious, I read the book, recognizing some of my students in the descriptions. Though I didn't single out the students who seemed to possess Indigo traits, this perspective was an interesting lens through which to view them, and I think it helped me to be a better, more sensitive teacher to all of my students.*

Even if Lucas is not "A Crystal Child," I feel called to be a better, more mindful and conscious mother when I look at him through this lens. What harm can I possibly do by treating him with respect and sensitivity? If you've been reading for a while, you know that I don't treat him like a king with carte blanche to do whatever he pleases. He's still a two-year-old. He has to learn boundaries and limits just like any other toddler.

But if I notice that his energy is ruffled when mine is ruffled, and therefore, I work harder to clear and calm the vibe I emit, I'm doing him more good than if I ignore the possible connection and get further irritated by his bad mood. If I listen with respect to his stories of talking with my deceased grandmother or his spirit friend, Ella, I am empowering him to be himself. If I were to dismiss this as mere imagination, or otherwise disregard his truth, then I'd be teaching him to put other people's reality and truth above his own. He would begin to doubt himself, and eventually, I'm sure he'd stop sharing or even having these experiences. In my opinion, what a shame that would be. What richness lost.

Do I have to call Lucas a "crystal child" in order to show him this respect? Of course not. I actually don't refer to Lucas as a crystal child outside of this blog. Mon from Holistic Mama made this fabulous point about labels in her comment on Tuesday's post:

"I see the labeling as part of the wider problem. It might be a 'good' label, but the viciousness and narrow-mindedness all stem from that same place, the need to narrow, to limit, to draw boundaries."

It's a great point, and one I struggled with a lot when I began writing about this on my blog. Here was part of my response:

"When trying to point to a vaguely common set of characteristics in order to expose people to the idea of a markedly different kind of child/person/group, I don't know how to get around labels. I use the labels in my blog because I want the people who are curious about this phenomenon to find me.

I do believe we can begin to slide down a slippery slope of ego identification when we start singling out children, especially our own, as having certain qualities that others do not possess. But it's no different than the mom of the beauty pageant preschooler bragging about her child's beauty, or the father of a star soccer player boasting about his son's agility. That line between honoring our children's gifts and being prideful is a very thin one. I think a key indicator of ego creeping into the picture is when we notice ourselves comparing. Anytime we find ourselves thinking in terms of better or worse than, we know ego is in the middle of it.

So, getting back to the original point, if Lucas doesn't really have these gifts, but I'm still treating him as if he has, while checking myself to be sure it's not about ego or making him better than anyone else, there's really no harm being done.

But what if, by contrast, he does possess these qualities, and I ignore them? What if it really is true that more and more children are being born with psychic abilities and acute sensitivities to the energies around them, and we all do nothing other than try to urge them to be "normal"? Here is where we run into a problem. When we discount the experiences children share with us, they begin to doubt themselves. When we belittle them for being "too sensitive" or tell them to toughen up, we impair their ability to love and accept themselves as they are, causing them to forever seek outward reassurance that they are lovable. When we tell those children bursting with energy and curiosity to be still and be quiet, and then we drug them with Ritalin when they don't, we dull their natural vitality, and then we watch it turn to anger or depression.

I could go on, but I think you get the picture. The costs of ignoring this phenomenon are great, while the costs of accepting it are nil. The benefits of ignoring it are also nil, as far as I can tell. The benefits of accepting and nurturing these gifts remain to be seen. I think they'll be very positive, but I can't know for sure. It's clear to me that my best bet is to roll with the Crystal/Indigo bandwagon.
 

My last point about this phenomenon is in response to Lisa's point about it not being necessarily a new thing. Those of you with a lot of knowledge of the history of mysticism and spirituality will know much more than I can offer, and I hope you'll share what you know in the comments. The following is only a possibility, coming just from my own thinking.

I'm sure that "mystics," or people with these kinds of psychic gifts and sensitivities, have been around since the beginning of humanity, but are perhaps incarnating more frequently and in greater numbers these days. It does seem that there are many more spiritual "masters" today than there were, say, even 200 years ago. I would imagine many went underground (those who weren't killed) around the time of the witch hunts and for generations afterward. Maybe with the growing consciousness on the planet these days, as more people share their ideas and philosophies through globalization, it's becoming (a bit) safer for these mystics to speak of their gifts.

One could argue that, with this growing global consciousness, a percentage of those becoming more conscious are also becoming parents. Those parents are looking at their children in new ways. They are sensing in their children more of a connection to the divine, because they, themselves, are feeling more connected. That's a possibility, but I've met plenty of children who seemed to possess these gifts without the benefit of conscious parents.

Why are they here? Are they here to heal the planet? Save the world? Who knows?

But does it really matter?

Do they need to "be here on a mission" in order to be respected, honored, and nurtured? I don't think so. Confident, compassionate, open, respectful, and curious adults will make this world a better place. Honoring each child for who and what they are, so that they can grow up unfettered by self-doubt, fear, hatred, or boredom, is one very important way we can all help save the world.

I'd love to hear what you all have to say about this!

*Update and sidenote as of Sept 2009: Many of those Indigo students I taught 15 years ago have begun to resurface in my life over the course of the past few months. It's like I've set off some sort of homing signal in writing about this stuff! Gotta love Facebook!

You Thought the Witch Hunts Were Over?

Self-doubt. I've had this feeling many times. Am I making this up about Lucas being a crystal child? Is my own budding intuition all in my head? The dream that helped my friend, or when Lucas reads my mind: are these and all of the other little events that hint at something deeper just coincidences?

Sometimes I wonder.

Usually, I wonder this after coming across a really mean post vilifying people who believe that the indigo and crystal phenomenon is real. It's hard to believe in something this subtle when the rest of the world is ready to shout, "Lunatic! Anti-vaxxer! Flat-earther!" (What's a flat-earther??) Yes, these are the names that get lumped together and flung like stones at people like Jenny McCarthy, who stand up for what they believe to be true when it goes against the mainstream religious/political/cultural mentality.

It breaks my heart to see this widespread viciousness and the refusal to consider an alternative point of view. And … it scares me. It scares me so much that it causes me to pause and rethink something that feels true to the core of my soul. What if they come after me?

I'm reminded of the Salem witch hunts. This mob mentality of separation, of "you don't belong", of "you don't deserve to live unless you live like we do", is downright terrifying. That's really what they're saying, isn't it? "If you speak up about a way of life that is different from ours, we will crush you; we will silence you, so that only our way is known."

I've been mourning the American Idol results for this very same reason. I won't go into it here because I couldn't have written about it better than Lisa of MommyMystic in her post, Why Adam Lambert Didn't Win American Idol (or, the problem with religion.) Please check it out. The article and the ongoing conversation in the comments section there are fantastic!

So…

How do we stay true to ourselves and nurture our beliefs in the face of so much dogma and vitriol? Do we withdraw from the public eye and keep our thoughts to ourselves? Do we fight back with matching venom? I think neither of these is the answer. Keeping silent means others of like mind don't get to discover that they're not alone. It also means fewer people get exposed to new ideas. And fighting back simply amplifies the negative energy.

I think the answer is to continue to speak our truth, as honestly as we can. When we share our truth without making anyone else wrong, we allow others the opportunity to see things from a new perspective without inviting an automatic defense. We open up conversations and connect with people who think like we do, and those who think differently.

This post began with doubt. How do we know that our truth really is our truth, then? How do we know that we're not just repeating someone else's truth; a truth that we've read, or a truth that we've heard? For me, the answer is found in my meditation and journaling practice. For you, it might be something else. It is in meditation and journaling that I unearth old beliefs that no longer fit, and discover new truths to lead me forward. I don't know if there is an actual absolute truth. I think it's more malleable than that. That's why it's so important to check in every day with my higher power, higher self, spirit, God, or whatever you want to call it. It keeps me up to date on the current truth - for me, in my life.

And then I share it. And I hope it makes at least a small difference somewhere.

Non-Coercive Potty Training: A detour

The potty-training odyssey continues.

Lucas has cycled through a couple of colds over the past two weeks, and with the commensurate lack of consistency, our early potty-training success with the timer has waned just a bit. By waned, I mean that the actual using of the toilet has slowed down to a trickle, (pun intended).

However …

The independence and confidence gained from our experiment with the timer has opened up a whole new world of possibilities for Lucas. He now chooses his own outfits and can put them on by himself. He has taught himself how to put on his shoes and socks. He'll get up and change his pajamas if decides another set would be a better choice. He can even change his own pull-up!

This last one has been a bit of an entertainer. The first time we saw him do this was at Grandma's. I was in the kitchen with my mom, and Lucas had just finished eating dinner. I thought he was playing in the living room, but instead, he was pulling the diaper bag from the chair, taking out the changing pad and wipes, and getting a new pull-up. When I caught on to what he was doing, I thought I'd sit back and see what happened.

Off came his little jeans. He wiggled out of his pull-up and then flung it off with a kick of his leg (must be a guy gene). Then he grabbed a wipe, got on his back on the changing pad, put his legs high in the air, and wiped himself off. After that, he pulled on a fresh pull-up, stood up and yelled, "I changed myself!!!" while running around the house laughing hysterically.

I was quite proud of him, and also glad that it wasn't a poop diaper.

Yesterday, I was again proud, but this time not quite so lucky.

I was on my computer in the living room while Lucas was napping. Suddenly he burst on the scene, wearing his pajama top, but jean shorts. He was smiling like the Cheshire cat.

"I noticed that you changed into shorts all by yourself," I said. "Is your pull-up wet from your nap? Do you need to go to the bathroom?"

"No, I already pooped," he answered.

"Oh, so you need me to change your pull-up for you?" I tried to clarify.

"No, I already changed my pull-up." Then a big laugh, "I changed my poopy pull-up all by myself!!!"

Uh-oh!

I ran to his bedroom to find his poopy pull-up neatly placed on the floor at the foot of his bed, with some used wipes on it. The wipe container was still sitting out on his bed. There was no evident mess.

Huh… Wow… Okay, then.

His preschool says he has to be toilet-learned by September.  Even if he isn't using the toilet 100% by then, do you suppose this counts?

Mindful Mothering: Thinking ahead

While "thinking ahead" may seem to contradict my whole premise of being in the moment, it actually strengthens it. Read on to find out why it warrants the final spot on the Flexible Conclusions list in this fourth and final post for the Mindful Mothering series.

Alexis' Flexible Conclusions on Mindful Mothering

Knowing myself makes me a better mother. Knowing my child makes me a better mother. Being present makes me a better mother. Thinking ahead also makes me a better mother.

Conclusion #4: Thinking Ahead Also Makes Me a Better Mother

For the organized planner in me, it's nice to know that there is a place in mindful mothering for thinking ahead. It's not all about experiencing each moment as it unfolds. While that's an important practice, without an element of proactivity, I am likely to miss key opportunities in raising my son mindfully.

When I think ahead to the kind of man I wish to send out into the world as an adult, this helps me determine the kinds of behaviors and attitudes I want to nurture in my young child right now. For example, I hope my son grows to be a good steward of his environment, so I made it a point to model age-appropriate behaviors that encourage that kind of attitude. My son will walk across an entire playground to put a tiny scrap of found trash into the garbage can – all on his own. It's become important to him. A year and a half ago, when he first started picking up empty wrappers from the sand, I could have just said, "Oh, give that yucky trash to Mommy. I'll take care of it." But because I was thinking ahead to the kinds of attitudes I wanted to encourage, I took the time to walk with him to the garbage can and show him how to put it in – and then wash his hands really well.

Related to that example is another way in which thinking ahead makes me a more mindful mother. As mothers, there are so many decisions we need to make minute by minute. These decisions may seem small, but each one shapes the foundation of our child's character in its own way. It can be is exhausting to be mindful of how each of our decisions and interactions affects our children. Sometimes it is so easy to say, "Oh, what the heck, just this once, I don't care if he jumps on the furniture. I'm too tired to go stop him." When I'm thusly tempted, all I have to do is think ahead to life with an adolescent with inconsistent boundaries! This gives me the strength to make difficult decisions now, in the present moment.

"It goes by so fast!"  We hear this over and over again, and as mothers, we feel it tug at our hearts with a melancholy sense of anticipatory loss. We look at the baby pictures and wonder how they've changed so much in such a tiny blink of an eye. On days when I am in a bad mood, Lucas is driving me crazy, or I'm just distracted by too much to do, thinking ahead to a time when my son will be grown and gone jolts me immediately into an almost desperate appreciation for this exact moment right now.

~

I hope you've enjoyed this series. If so, please share it, digg it, tweet it, or whatever else suits your fancy.  I'd also love to read your comments about it.  Cheers!

Previous Posts in the Series:

Flexible Conclusions on Mindful Mothering
Mindful Mothering: Knowing my child
Mindful Mothering: Being present


 

Mindful Mothering: Being present

As mothers, how often do we find our bodies in one place, but our thoughts somewhere completely different? Part 3 of this series addresses what I think is the most important conclusion about mindful mothering, and the one that is most difficult to practice: being present.

Alexis' Flexible Conclusions on Mindful Mothering

Knowing myself makes me a better mother. Knowing my child makes me a better mother. Being present makes me a better mother. Thinking ahead also makes me a better mother.

Conclusion #3: Being Present Makes Me a Better Mother

When I give my attention to what is right in front of me, especially when I'm with my son, it makes me a better mother in three ways. First of all, it helps me know my child better (flexible conclusion #2!) and develop a stronger relationship with him.

When I spend time with my son and I don't give in to the temptation to simultaneously attend to half a dozen other tasks or thoughts, I learn so much more about him. I pick up on nuances in his thinking processes, emotional responses, or motor skills that I might otherwise have missed. We have better conversations because I'm listening to him with no distractions and nothing else on my mind. The more present I am with him, the more respected he feels, and this helps us build a trusting, loving relationship.

Now, don't think this happens all day long in our home. These are short little chunks of time set aside just for us. There are many other chunks of time in which he's playing independently (or getting into stuff) while I cook or do housework, to be sure. But I notice a shift for the worse in our relationship if I haven't made enough time for us to set aside all other tasks and be present together.

A second way being present makes me a better mother is that it helps me make important decisions. When I am fully in the moment, I am able to clearly see my options and I am more open to receiving inspiration for what is best for that particular situation. If I am distracted by thoughts or emotions that take me away from this moment, then I may react emotionally, or act on advice that doesn't really fit for me. Being present is how I navigate through the sea of books offering contradictory parenting philosophies and strategies. When I am present, I know that it isn't about a strategy. It's about what is best for my son and me in this exact moment.

Finally, being present shows that I value my time, whether it's with my son or with my work. Each gets full attention at the appropriate time. When I am clear about what I am choosing to do in each moment, without distraction, I am respecting myself as well as my task at hand, and I am modeling that respect for my child.

What do you think? How does being present work in your home?


Other posts in the series:
Flexible Conclusions on Mindful Mothering
Mindful Mothering: Knowing my child
Mindful Mothering: Thinking ahead

Mindful Mothering: Knowing my child

This is part two of my series on Mindful Mothering. Today, I'll explore the second conclusion.

Alexis' Flexible Conclusions on Mindful Mothering

Knowing myself makes me a better mother. Knowing my child makes me a better mother. Being present makes me a better mother. Thinking ahead also makes me a better mother.

Conclusion #2: Knowing My Child Makes Me a Better Mother

This might seem obvious to you, but I have to tell you that I've seen many families in which this isn't understood or practiced. Here is a true story about a seven-year-old boy from my classroom many years ago. He was part of an upwardly mobile family living in a nice neighborhood. His parents took many luxury vacations, frequently leaving the kids with the grandparents. This boy (I'll call him Tommy) was an obvious athlete by second grade. He played all sports very well, and always wore some sort of sports jersey to school. A stranger walking into the school could tell you at a glance that Tom liked sports.

Our first parent-teacher conference was in October. The only goal of this meeting was to get to know the parents and get to know the child through the parents' eyes. When I asked them what they could tell me about Tommy, they hemmed and hawed and passed the question between them like a hot potato. Finally, the father said, "Well, he's really good at sports." "Yes, that's quite evident," I responded. "What else can you tell me about him? What do you think is important for me to know about your son that would help me be the best teacher possible for him?"

They shifted in their seats and stared at their diamond-encrusted fingers, silent. They had nothing to say. It may come as no surprise to you that this smart and talented boy was very troubled. He was known at the school for being a "runner", as in running away - from the school.  Something would trigger him, and it was like a mask would clamp down over his face. After a moment of standing frozen, he would dash for the door and then keep on running. This family didn't understand the importance of knowing their child.

When I honor my son's emerging personality and natural talents, I know he feels respected and loved. He is keenly aware of when I am talking about him and he responds immediately to what I am saying. When I call my mother to share a funny story about him or an impressive accomplishment, he practically glows with satisfaction while he listens to me on the phone. Knowing that I know him and understand the nuances of his every effort gives him the confidence to try new things.

Observing my son when he's playing independently is nothing short of fascinating to me. For example, I've learned that he has a tendency toward impatience, and would often give up or walk away when something would get too hard. However, with some gentle encouragement from us, he has learned to persevere. I now watch him work through challenges without our intervention, crowing with delight when he succeeds. I feel pretty confident that I know when to step in and when to leave him alone because I pay attention to him and how he operates. This gives him an appropriate balance of freedom and security from me.

Knowing my child helps me respect him for who he is, not who I want him to be. If I have a vision of what I think my son should be – say, an athlete – and I don't pay close enough attention to notice that there are other things my son would rather do, then I will only see what I want to see. My son will then learn that athletic skill is what gets my attention, and the other things will fade away, along with a little bit of his self-hood. On the other hand, if I'm paying attention, I'll clearly notice my child's interests and I can encourage his natural gifts, allowing him to grow in confidence and self-respect.

Other posts in the series:
Flexible Conclusions on Mindful Mothering
Mindful Mothering: Being present
Mindful Mothering: Thinking ahead
 

Flexible Conclusions on Mindful Mothering

The following is the first in a series on Mindful Mothering that I published last year.  It's been on my mind lately, and so I thought I'd run it again to share with my newer readers. I hope you enjoy it!

Being a mindful mother has been a goal of mine ever since I began considering motherhood. I have always known that the key to all good things that I wish for our world is intimately connected to how we raise our children. I also know that there are countless contradictory ideas swimming in our collective consciousness about how that should look. I don't claim to have an answer that is any better or any worse than someone else's. After teaching other people's children for over a decade, as well as exploring my own sense of selfhood over the years, I've come to some flexible conclusions. My current experience of motherhood is my opportunity to test these theories. Variables change daily, and what's more, we won't see the results of this experiment for years to come. What an inexact science this is!

This post is the first in a series on mindful mothering. In each post, I'll explore a different conclusion in more depth. But first …

Alexis' Flexible Conclusions on Mindful Mothering

Knowing myself makes me a better mother. Knowing my child makes me a better mother. Being present makes me a better mother. Thinking ahead also makes me a better mother.

Conclusion #1: Knowing Myself Makes Me a Better Mother

I'm not talking about the kinds of things I include in my Facebook profile. This is much deeper than the books I read or my favorite quote. I'm talking about unearthing my unconscious emotional triggers, being clear about what I want from life, and knowing who I want to be as a woman and a mother. I'm well aware this is a work in progress. Just because I may never fully know the answers isn't a good enough reason to avoid them. The point is to be actively engaged in the questions, and here is why this is important to me as a mother:

When I am aware of my emotions and I'm in better control of my responses, I can make rational and thoughtful decisions about parenting that are separate from my own childhood issues. How many times do we hear women say, "Oh no - I've become my mother!" Now, for me, that would be a cool thing, because my mom happens to be my very best friend and I admire her completely. But this isn't always the case, and many women are disturbed when they find themselves parenting in exactly the same way they were parented. Other women rebel against their parents and choose to raise their children in as opposite a way as possible. Either way, these are parenting decisions that are made in reaction to childhood issues, rather than from a place of thoughtful choice.

For my baby shower three years ago, the note accompanying a little self-pampering basket read, "If Mama's not happy, nobody's happy." So true! Knowing what makes me happy and actively pursuing those things helps me feel fulfilled as a person. I know that raising my son well is one of the most important things I can do to contribute to the well-being of the planet. However, this is a long-term goal and some of the day-to-day aspects of it aren't particularly gratifying. For me, I know that when I have outlets for my creativity, time with my girlfriends and time to myself, I am a more happy and balanced person, and I bring that positive energy into my time with my son. I am also setting an example that lets him know it's healthy for him to respect his own needs.

And finally, taking time to consider who I want to be as a woman and a mother gives me a compass reading for my own true North. As a mother, I'm bombarded with opinions and advice from friends, family, TV commercials, magazines, and other media. If I haven't taken the time to think deeply about who I am and what I stand for, then I am at the mercy of public opinion, swaying me to and fro on issues that seriously affect the health and well-being of my child. Knowing myself gives me the confidence to ask better questions, search more deeply for answers, and reject those answers that don't fit.


Links to the rest of the series:
Mindful Mothering: Knowing my child
Mindful Mothering: Being present
Mindful Mothering: Thinking ahead

A Mother’s Day Vignette

Lucas snuck out of his room at the beginning of his nap a few minutes ago. We didn't hear a thing, but when we went to check in on him, he wasn't there. Instead … we found him in our room, sitting propped up against a pillow in our bed, the covers pulled up over his lap, with Eckhart Tolle's A New Earth opened on his lap.

When I asked him what he was doing, he said, "I'm just reading a book before I go to bed."

Here's to all of the quirky ways in which our children make us so grateful to be their mothers.

Happy Mother's Day everyone!

A Lesson in Gratitude

Yesterday, Lucas and I spent the morning at the beach. It was a beautiful day, not too hot, and we found a rare spot amidst tons of tiny seashells. Lucas began collecting the shells and putting them in a little mesh cup holder in my beach chair. At one point, he crouched over the cup holder, and with hands clasped at his chest, gleefully said to the shells, "Thank you for you!"

What a lovely and pure expression of gratitude!

I was already in a pretty great mood (who wouldn't be, with sunshine, beach and a favorite buddy?) but my spirit soared even higher as he spoke those words. He brought me full-stop into the present moment. Sure, I was enjoying myself, but was I really relishing everything this moment had to offer? Was I, perhaps, taking this day for granted?

Suddenly, I found myself deeply appreciating the warmth of the sun, the soothing greenish-blue of the ocean, and the gentle temperate breeze. I felt grateful that I had time in my day to relax with my son, and that we live only fifteen minutes from the beautiful beaches of San Diego.

Mostly, I felt grateful for this smiling, sandy boy, sunscreen spiking his golden hair into odd angles, who seemed just as grateful for me.

Thank you for you, Lucas!

Meet Max, My Jellyfish of Doubt

Self-doubt has reared its ugly head and has been raising an inner ruckus recently. I imagine my self-doubt in the form of a tentacled little jellyfish-like critter who sits on my heart and "protects" me from dangerous things like success and self-confidence. His name is Max, and over the years, he's caused all kinds of mischief.

His welcome is wearing thin, but I know he'll never completely leave. I'd like him to at least move to a less intrusive place, like maybe on my shoulder. Sure, he could still whisper his annoying little admonishments, "Who do you think you are writing about this stuff?" "Creating a real blog or a book would be too much work," "Nobody likes your log book. You shouldn't have paid for such a large print run," but I could more easily flick him in his little jelly head when he started in on me.

For whatever reason, he's been acting up again lately. Perhaps the collective fears over the economy and the stupid swine flu have just gotten to be too much for me, and I don't have the strength to resist the downward pull. Max is having a field day, pushing on my heart, urging me to "Go ahead and commiserate! Complain! Get angry!"

I know these are not helpful responses. They don't serve to lift my energy or contribute to my creativity. They stifle the very things I'm trying to expand.

"Whatever you do, don't write!" seems to be Max's underlying message. "You don't have any ideas. You don't know where to begin with your book. You don't have a structure. You can't even think of stories that just happened last week! Just keep spinning your wheels and stay right here. Even better, spend a lot of time comparing yourself to others who are more accomplished than you are. Read their books and blogs. Find confirmation everywhere that you have no business writing a book about crystal children."

Max, (head-flick!) shut up now. That's enough from you.

Imagining this little bugger is helpful for me. It allows me to see myself as separate from these sabotaging thoughts. When I "talk" with Max, I am able to catch a glimpse of what it would be like to live separately from him. The more I can create that distinction, the more open I feel to inspiration and the free flow of ideas, and the more progress I make on turning my ideas into something beautiful that can shine out into the world and inspire others.

Do you have a Max of your own? What do you do to limit its influence on your energy?

 

 

Non-Coercive Potty Training: Our Progress

A couple of weeks ago, I put out a request on Twitter and Facebook for ideas about non-coercive potty training … on a deadline. I don't like to rely on bribes or rewards in my discipline with Lucas, and I didn't want to make an exception for something that all people eventually learn to do on their own.

Originally, the "plan," such as it was, involved waiting until he was interested and then just following his lead. No pressure, no worries. Here's the little wrench that we threw in the works: We enrolled him in this absolutely fabulous preschool for two half-days a week starting in September, and he needs to be "toilet-learned" by then. Super.

As I saw it, I had three choices:

1. I could stick to the original plan, and if he didn't toilet-train by September, then we would give up our coveted spot at the super-cool preschool and he'd just stay home with me.
2. I could make a major exception to my parenting philosophy – just this once! - and try one of the potty-train in a day/week/whatever methods using (peanut-free) treats and rewards.
3. I could figure out another way.

I went with number three, of course, and spent some time twiddling my thumbs wondering what that might look like. My social media request for ideas was of little help, so I turned to the most reliable expert I could find: Lucas. Who better to inform me about what was going to work for him?

I began to think beyond traditional potty-training methods and just focused in on my son. As it turned out, one of the most important questions I asked myself was, "What does he value most at this stage of his development?"

He's two and a half. What do you think? This is the age of independence; of exerting will and discovering power. There is a lot of power in the word, "no," and all toddlers know this. "I can do it myself!" is one of the more popular refrains of this set.

I had previously tried asking him if he wanted to use the potty, (no, he didn't) and even telling him in no uncertain terms that it was time to use the potty, (no, he wouldn't). These approaches did nothing to feed his independence, and only encouraged him to exercise his power by refusing. Lucas has always been extremely independent, and so I thought (and I thought and I thought) about how I could make this feel like his own thing that he could initiate, and um … soon.

Finally, I hit on an idea! I tried letting him help me set the kitchen timer for 15 minutes. (He's fascinated by these buttons!) I told him that when the timer began to beep, he could come turn it off, and that would mean it was time to go try using the toilet.

This simple little trick has worked like a charm!

Now, it's between Lucas and the timer. I come along to help - if needed – but this is his deal now. I can't believe how brilliantly this works! He drops his trains or guitar and comes running to turn off the timer, and then makes a beeline into the bathroom, where he is now proficient at unsnapping his pants, pulling down the pull-ups and climbing up onto the regular toilet to pee or poop. He has the whole process wired now, including closing the lid gently (seriously, he closes it gently! I know!), and washing his hands afterward. He'll even go in there periodically if I've forgotten to have him set the timer.

Hooray! And all this with no rewards, other than the intrinsic satisfaction of big-boy independence.

This is only the beginning, but it's a great start. He still doesn't get the importance of staying dry, which is the main point, really. If his pull-up happens to be dry when he hits the bathroom, it's just lucky timing. That's okay. I trust it will come, and that he'll be an old pro at the whole thing by September.

It's been almost a week since we've used his dresser-top changing pad, so tonight we ceremoniously unsnapped it and banished it to the garage. In the space it had taken, we placed his electric meditation candle and a little porcelain angel that had been my mother's as a girl. I took out a cute unused frame that matched his room, and Lucas helped me pick out a picture to put in it. He chose this one of himself last year when he was a "baby" in his crib, right after he had figured out how to unzip his pajamas.

It's a new era of independence in the Ahrens' family.