The Tortoise and the Mom

Hey there!

Want to come on a journey with us?

It's only three blocks long, but sometimes it takes 20 minutes to complete. 

Twenty minutes? How can it take that long?

Because Brady P is with us.

He is not a slow walker. He can and likes to run.

But he is sooooo curious and in the moment.

Imagine walking east from the one room schoolhouse in the winter time. Not on the trail which is quiet and scenic, but on the road.

We come out of the school driveway and turn right. For approximately half our journey, we walk past the parking lot of the Mariner North.

In the winter, this parking lot is often full of snowmobiles. If they are parked, he likes to count them. (We have counted over 30 before!) If they just started up, he needs to wait until they take off. All of them in the group.

People to watch

When they are cruising down the road from the gas station (another three blocks further west), he needs to stop and watch them all file past. 

From way down the road. Ugh!

Sometimes they pull in to the Mariner. Sometimes they go past and turn off on the trail.

Sometimes he waves. They often wave back.

We have to wait until they all either go past or park. If I start to walk before he sees their destination, I hear, "Mummy, wait! There's one more!"

Sometimes he spends more time standing and waiting than actually moving toward home. 

Which is my goal.

I have to take deep breaths to keep my patience.

But the fun doesn't end there.

Brady is also a celebrity in this town, so most times, when any of his friends drive by, they stop and chat or slow down and wave. He will chat and then run off waving good-bye. Or he'll wave then stick out his tush and give it a slap.

Can you see how this would take some time? I have learned to never schedule anything near after school time, or I'll fret the whole walk home that we'll be late. 

I don't like to fret.

And he is not one to hurry up.

I have also accepted the fact that he absolutely loves to do all those things I just mentioned. While getting home might be my goal, his mission is to watch each person go by no matter what mode they are using.

I can honestly say that it took me a few school winters to accept this, and I finally have the patience to let him enjoy himself. That's what he is here to do.

And as he does that, other people benefit too.

Timed Out!

Oh, man. 

How many Wednesdays are they putting in a week now? Sheesh!

Yesterday was my birthday, so I didn't write, as you can tell. But I will say that my soul entered its thirties as a lamb and it's going out like a lion!

Hear me roar, baby. I'm on fire!

Okay, here's a story for you.

I found this situation to be quite eye-opening, so I'll see if I can share it with you properly.

I picked up my little man from his grandparents' house on Saturday. We drove back to Copper Harbor on Sunday.

On the way, I had to stop for gas. It was just over halfway of our five hour drive, so I figured we could both go in for a potty break and pick out a snack. It's just the novelty of it.

I pulled up to the pump. I pushed the "Pay Inside Credit" button cuz I knew we would make a purchase inside as well.

I returned the nozzle and opened Brady P's door.

"Hey, dude! Are you ready for a break?" I asked him.

"Yes, Mama. And how about a treat?" he smiled.

"Okay." I acquiesced. "Wow, you are still dry! We will go potty inside too."

"Okay, Mummy."

And I helped him heroically jump out of the van.

"Do you want to put on your mask right here or before we go in?" I asked and fumbled with our masks. I put his on before we went in.

Then we used the restroom. The one-seater woman's room. I went. Then I helped him go. Then I wiped down the seat because he can only do it if he stands on the seat. We washed our hands.

I opened the door to see two ladies waiting in line.

"Oh! I said. "Thanks for your patience!"

They were not amused.

B and I browsed a couple aisles. I grabbed an orange juice. He found the ice cream. As we scanned the shelf for something not-so-dairy, I heard a man shouting.

"Your gas is timing out!"

Pause. I was not paying attention.

"Your gas is timing out!"

I heard these words, but I thought somebody was saying that they couldn't pump all their gas or something.

Then, the man behind the counter got closer.

"Ma'am! Your gas is timing out! It thinks you're a drive-off!"

Oh my gosh! He was talking to me!

"Hurry up, Braeds! Pick something out! How about a Rice Krispie bar?"

"No, Mummy," he said, still eyeing up the ice cream cooler.

The man behind the counter grew increasingly nervous, so I figured I'd do the unthinkable -- use my debit card twice in a row. Ha! Like that was a big deal!

I left B to stare at ice cream, and I walked up to the counter, noticing a muffled alarm going off. Geez.

"How about if I just pay for my gas now and then pay for our other things when we are done?" I asked him.

"Yeah, sure, just, yeah," he stuttered, obviously agitated.

I have never heard of gas timing out before, but apparently it's a big deal!

I paid him and then found my child who picked out a push pop. Good grief. He can't push his own push pop! I knew it would be work for me while I drove (sticky work at that!) but it was also not really a dairy item, so at least we would sleep that night.

"Okay, bud. Put it on the counter, so he can scan it," I told my triumphant child.

Then I used my debit card again for a pittance of an amount, but at least the man had relaxed.

"Thanks for your patience with us," I told him with sincere eyes.

"Yes. Of course," he replied.

B and I walked out, and I half expected the police to follow my van and ask me if I paid for my gas, but that didn't happen. Good thing because I didn't get my receipt! Ha!

While I buckled the sweetest little boy on the face of the earth into his carseat, it kind of dawned on me: I am a very patient person.

Nothing we did, from the time I pumped gas, until the time I got timed out, was hurried. At the same time, nothing was too much out of the ordinary either. 

We were simply a mom and her son making a pit stop on the way home.

My next question was, who the heck sets the time limit for a drive off? We certainly didn't make the cut. How many other families don't make the cut? How many other unhurried souls don't make the cut?

I don't know.

And now I wonder how many of those timing outs he has in a day... or a month!

I don't know!

But we apparently took too long, and that was just fine with me. Next time we take too long, I'll know what I am getting shouted at for!

Back home where we can be in the moment

Love and Connection

Hey!

I hope you're doing great.

We are pretty darn great ourselves.  We are!

I just went back and read a couple of the dark posts I wrote this spring.  Looking back, I still find them useful.  I mean, I teared  up as I remembered how low I was feeling, but I think that the wisdom I found to share is still valid.

You can scroll down and find them if you want, but this week's post is to update you because I got a chance to reflect even more.  For months.  And with lots of new learning under my belt.

Just a quick recap: when school stopped indefinitely on March 13, 2020, I knew I had a big job to do.

No longer would I send my child to school where qualified people would prompt him to read, write, learn science, add numbers, see other kids, receive specialized therapies, etc, etc.

I would have to do that all with him.

Alone.

So at first I tried.  I tried really hard.

And it was good.

But the expectations never stopped.  They just kept becoming more and more with virtual school and isolation and me and him and him and me.

I thought I had to keep up with all those things.  I thought he needed physical therapy, speech therapy, fine motor therapy, reading, writing, getting outside, and everything all at once.

Truthfully, he benefits from all those things.

But I could not do it all.

And I felt like a failure.

Do you know what he really needed in those times?

It was really only one simple thing, and, in my despair, I put on the back burner.

It was love.

It still is love.

Know how I know?

Because I am focusing on that now.

Love and connection.

I was so frustrated with feeling frustrated with him and myself, that I started reading this book called Peaceful Parent, Happy Kids by Dr. Laura Markham.

In all honesty, I am not even done with it yet.  I will finish it at some point, but I already feel like I have made big changes in our relationship.  Big changes where we laugh so hard together everyday.

We snuggle genuinely.

We kiss and hug.

We talk about things.

The biggest thing I have changed is my mentality.  I am focusing on our connection.

Our life is no longer about what I want him to do or what other people want him to do.  It's about what he wants to do and how we need to do it so he learns best.

Before you think I'm raising a spoiled brat, I assure you, I'm not.  Just the opposite.  He is polite.  He is becoming patient.  He is becoming independent.  He is becoming more helpful.

He is truly amazing, and so is our relationship.

I have changed my mentality from dictating my authority (and getting frustrated when it doesn't work -- which it doesn't on a daily basis), to observing him.

I pay attention to what he is doing in the moment when I need him to do something else.  Then I use what he is doing (or wants to do) to motivate him to do what I need him to do.

It is life-changing for us both, and it is truly beautiful.

I would recommend Dr. Markham's book to any parent.  Or even any non-parent who wants to relate better to other people in general.

She also has a website called AhaParenting.com.   I just checked it out.  What I like is that she divides ideas for coaching your child into the child's age group, so you can read what applies to you now.

However, I'm a real sucker for brain development talk, so I like to read from the infant stage on.  I try not to dwell on all the times I screwed up when B was a baby (cuz I was really stressed out!) because people's neurological pathways are always changing with the input they are given.

It only took a couple months for me to notice big changes in how he responds to me.  He puts more trust in me and enjoys doing things to help me out -- sometimes without being asked!  I mean, what a miracle!

In turn, I am more peaceful with myself.  More creative to troubleshoot (because that's a huge part of parenting) and more patient to wait for him to respond in my favor on his own accord.

That is seriously magical.

I'm all for it.

Well, hey.  Thanks for making it this far down the page.  Here's a cute pic of my Wee Man wearing Grampa's glasses a couple weeks ago.

You take care, and be patient with yourself!

No Boxes

Happy Thursday!

This morning as I snuggled in B's bed to wake him up for school, I asked him what he thought the weather would be like.  His room was dark from pre-dawn and the cave I turned it into, so he only had his intuition to go on.

And his preferences.

Weatherman Brady P. forecasted that today would be sunny, warm and calm.

That is pretty desirable.

It's also what I believe he would choose for everyday of the year.

He was pretty close though.  Today is sunny and calm.  Not very warm -- chilly in the 50's actually.  But sunny and calm.

So I'll give him that.  My little meteorologist.

I really like having him in my life.

He is so unique and has a spin on reality that makes his presence and ideas a breath of fresh air.

He definitely does not fit into a box, though.

No, siree.

There is no box for him.  At least not from what I have seen.

Even in our own home, things change on the daily.  Especially in my own mind.  

When I grew up, I often heard the phrase "because I said so."  Many adults said that.  It was supposed to be the end all of phrases, so the grown-up could have their way without a good reason besides that they are an adult therefore they are superior.

I still despise that phrase.

And, honestly, I will never say it because it is moot.  It doesn't matter if "I said so" or not.  There has to be a darn good reason behind why I asked something of anyone.  It has to have a meaningful, fair reason.

And if I would ever say that to my own son, he would not even understand its meaning.  He tests my reasoning all the time.

There has to be a reason for everything or he becomes confused or rebellious. 

And along those lines, he never asks me "why?"  So, in a way, I don't have to use that phrase because I am never asked why.  

Yet!

But as we go throughout the day, each task needs to have a reason why we do it, or he won't do it.

Unless it was his idea.

For instance, when we get home from school.

"Mummy, eat a popsicle?"

"Well, Braed, today is Tuesday.  We have homework on Tuesday, so after a couple pages of homework, you can have a popsicle."

"No, Mummy, no homework!  Just popsicle."  He smirks.

"Sweets, if you want to have a popsicle, you have to do your homework first.  It's a homework day!"

"No, Mummy."

"Okay, Mr.  Let's go up and get homework panda friend (a stuffed animal he picked to do homework with him.  I do the voice.) and do a couple pages of homework.  Then you earn your popsicle.  Maybe you have a phonics page in here!"

"No, Mummy, no homework!!!"

Deep breath for mom.

"Braeden.  Listen.  Would you like a popsicle?"

"Yes."

"Okay.  First we will do a couple pages of homework with panda friend.  Then you can have a popsicle.  Are you ready?"

"Yes, Mummy."

Okay.  There.  I got him to say that he is ready to do homework.  Now homework has a green light for Brady P.  Now we can move on with life.

Oy!

If I said, "Braeden, you will march upstairs and do your homework because I said so!" I would have a little boy flopping on the ground screaming, "No, Mummy!  No homework!!!"

I know this because that's how he acts when I want him to do something he does not want to do.  

Unless I give him a reason that he agrees to or a reward.

Daily life is troubleshooting, but that's parenting.

I am just trying to pay attention to how I can get him to act on his own accord while still getting him to do what I need him to do.

Rewards are helpful.  Punishment is a disaster.  Patience is never ending.  And love is a priority.

Thanks, Brady P. for forcing me to pay attention to your needs, so we can figure out how to meet in the middle and both get our way.

It can be absolutely exhausting, but I still prefer it over man-handling my child and screaming at him.  That will never work for us, and it would make me feel like a horrible person.  

I tried it a couple times and immediately thought, "Why did I even do that?  Now we both feel awful.  And nothing got accomplished."

So, looking-him-in-the-eyes-with-a-smile-while-I-try-to-explain-the-process-until-he-agrees, will be my strategy.

Until he changes his way of thinking again!

Because he said we could wear wigs during our last dance party.

I know, we are weird!!!

Trick or Treat!

Happy November!

I apologize for my lack of punctuality for the last two weeks.  Wah wahhhh.  

Blogger fail.

This Wednesday's blog time was replaced with a Halloween party and Braeden's first Trick or Treating in Copper Harbor, so there really wasn't time to sit and type.

Thursday was an all day town run.  

But I didn't forget about you.

The main thing I wanted to post was a picture of us in our costumes.

Unfortunately, none of them turned out crisp or well-posed, and I was just making fun of people who post blurry pictures on the internet.  Now here I go... posting one myself.

Instant karma, man.  Instant karma.  "Judge not, lest ye be judged."

So, judge away.

 

Super Mom and Batman!

Nonetheless, we did our part as super heroes, and helped save the day by being super awesome.   Braeden gave out hugs and petted puppies everywhere we stopped in town.  I just hung back, exuded super patience and pride as I watched him climb up and down the extremely high bus steps, carry his own pumpkin bucket and learn a new custom here in our country.

He got to eat Snickers for dinner on the "Ghoul Bus."  

Thanks, Copper Harbor, for a great Halloween.

Patience is a... Wait, Hold On

Before Braeden came along, I thought I was a patient person.  More patient than most, actually.  Thirteen years of bartending made me patient.  Teaching three-year-olds at the one-room schoolhouse tested and boosted my patience bank as well.

Then I had a baby.

Extra needs or not, newborns and children in general try our patience.  This is how Braeden has been trying mine lately.

We get our shoes on to go out to throw rocks.  I hold his hand as he proudly descends our eleven steps slowly but, well, slowly.  After the stairs, he lets go of my hand because he is a big boy, and he runs to the road with me sprinting after him.

"Stop!"  I shout.  "Take my hand, Braeden.  We're at the road."  He takes my hand and I kneel down beside him.  I turn my head to the left and point.  "Are there any cars coming this way?" I ask him as he points a stubby little index finger that way, too.  "Nope!"  I confirm.

I turn my head and point to the right.  "Are there any cars coming this way?"  He points that little finger to the right.  "Nope!"  I shout.  "Okay, we can cross the road!"  Hand in hand, we scurry across.

Once we're in the safe zone, he lets go of my hand and sits down.  "Braeden.  Do you want to go throw rocks?"

He puts both hand behind his head and bobs.  That means yes. 

"Okay, then.  We have to keep going.  Come on, Mister!"

He gets up and runs for about twenty feet down the gentle incline of the road.  Then he sits down again.  I know this is how it's going to go for the rest of the way.  On the days when we go straight down two and a half blocks to the beach by the Harbor Haus, I am okay with it.  On the days we have to go seven blocks to Jamsen's Bakery so we can get a cheddar bacon scone, I get a little impatient.

"Braeden, do you want to go throw rocks with mama?"

He knocks his knuckles together several times -- our sign for rocks.

"Okay, then.  Come on. Let's go!"

He stands up without using his hands, so I clap.  Then he runs another twenty feet until he sees the loon whirlygig spinning in front of the Laughing Loon gift shop.  He plops down, staring up at it in awe.

Staring at the loon

Now I know we're going to be here for a while, so I describe parts of the loon to him.  "Here are the loon's wings.  They're spinning around!  Here is the loon's tail.  Here's the loon's beak."  Etcetera, etcetera.

When my tummy growls, I push it a little.  "Okay, bye bye, Loon!"  I announce.  "Wave good-bye, Braeden."  His floppy wrist waves to the loon, and he stands up.  He sprints down the road again, but this time I try to keep him upright.

"Jump!"  I shout, jumping over a crack in the pavement.  Braeden jumps when he reaches that crack.  "Here's another one.  Jump!"  And we both jump over.

Now I don't want this post to take as long to read as it takes us to get to the bakery, I mean, beach, so we'll just skip to the beach.  You get the gist.

While basking in Lake Superior's glory, we throw rocks and clap and make splooshing sounds.  We might see some kayakers, a freighter, a motor boat, an eagle or some ducks.  We always see seagulls and crows.  We both love to be there.  I can tell it's Brady P's happy place.

We linger as long as possible, but when I feel it's time to go, I tell him, "Three more rocks, Braed.  Then we have to go."  He shakes his head, but continues to throw until I count three splooshes.  Then I scoop him up and we turn around to stare at the lake and blow her a kiss.  Braeden is a good kiss-blower.

"Thank you, beautiful lake," I sing while we both wave.  "See you next time!"

Off we go for a trek back up the hill.  This will take half an hour, too, especially if we pass puddles or the spray-painted culvert sites with the neon numbers.  Then he has to point to each number a hundred times while I tell him which number it is.  But if I am lucky, he will let me carry him the rest of the way home.