November 6, 2006

Conversation with my son

Those of us with mental illness often come with a lot of emotional baggage and frequently that baggage includes how we were raised. One of the main focuses of my parenting has been finding ways to parent differently than I was parented, break cycles, and find better ways to communicate with my child and make lasting changes in their behaviors that are internally self-motivated, and not responses to external stimuli.

I noticed in myself that my upbringing was very fear-based. As a result, once the fear stimulus was removed, I found little internal motivation to pursue a career or interests. I floundered for a long time after moving out of my parents' home as a result of this lack of internal motivation and eventually recognized the depression that wound its way through the apathy.

Now that I am a mother, I can see what led someone like my mother to hide from her children--parenting is exhausting, life changing, WORK and some days it's a struggle to force myself to actively, and not passively, parent. I continue to try and thwart my natural instinct to hide because I want a different life for my son. As a result, I find myself going out of my way to model behaviors I want to see, especially communication. I do a lot of talking with my son, explaining, and sharing. It is my hope that this will lead to reason on his end, an understanding of cause and effect and improved decision-making skills on his part.

Some days I remember that he's three and really, I can't expect too much by way of reason on his part. But the other night he proved that these efforts work, that you can teach a child to reason and communicate and eventually develop an end result that is positive, even from a bad situation.

Every parent has bad days. Parents who are manic or depressed or anxious often have more of these bad days than other parents, though truthfully, I imagine it's not REALLY that many more. EVERY parent has bad days, even the most cheerful one. What defines us as parents is how we cope with those bad days, how we follow up those bad days, what we take as learning opportunities and teaching opportunities.

I had a bad afternoon/evening with my son on Saturday. Well, I guess really it was a mixed bag. I went to the doctor that afternoon to discover that I have both an ear infection and strep throat. lunasdad was on his way to a convention 3 hours away, so it was just the tank and I.

We made it through a trip to the doctor, naptime, dinner, and a trip to the pharmacy without incident. By the time we get home from the pharmacy, it is time for the dogs to have their evening constitutional, so I leash them up, put my son's jacket on, and get ready to go for a walk outside.

This is where ALL HELL breaks loose. He wanted to take his toy lawnmower on the walk, but it's way back in our backyard somewhere and it's pitch black. We have deer, we have BEARS. NO, we are not going trekking for that toy in the dark, he will have to leave without it. The screaming begins, like I am beating him in the street. I'll admit, it crossed my mind, after 30 seconds of escalated aural assault on my senses. I decide we HAVE to go back inside before the neighbors come out. The teenager next door is outside going to his car to do teenagery things, says hi to the tank. All he gets is shrieking in response. I am towing my son into the house at this point, with one dog on each arm. I am starting to steam. Bears are sounding good right about now.

We get inside, now I am yelling at him. He is yelling at me. I tell him to do something he screams no, I scream yes! He calms down for a minute, we get ready to leave again, he wants me to carry him, I tell him I can't carry him AND hold onto the dogs too. The screaming begins again. I put him in timeout, he starts slamming his feet on something in his room, I go back in, tell him he's going to bed, no walkies tonight, he screams more, louder. I strip him of his coat and shoes, he's LIVID, tries to grab his shoes, screams he wants to walk the dogs. I tell him there's no way he's going out to walk the dogs in this state, if he wants to walk the dogs he has to understand that we are JUST WALKING them--no toys, no carrying, he has to use his feet and walk. He says no, he wants his lawnmower or he wants me to carry him. I say night night, he screams and kicks. I give myself a timeout, the bears are sounding good again.

We alternate between screaming and hugging. He wants comfort, so do I, but he wants his way and I can't give it to him. We're both trapped in this cycle and the only thing that is really going to help is if he just calms down. He asks for water, I give it to him. He calms down. Says he wants to walk the dogs, says he'll walk. He wants to take his water with him. I say that's okay. I put his hardsoled slippers on, he says he wants his sneakers, I say if he wants to go out, he has to wear his slippers because I am not putting his socks and shoes back on (not if there is even a small chance I am going to have to take them off and send him back to his room again). He capitulates, the dogs are glad we are FINALLY really leaving the house. We start our walk.

I take his hand to cross the street. He shuffles along next to me in his slippers with his water and he decides to have a talk with me. He tells me:

"You're mad, mama." I tell him he's right, I am mad. He tells me:

"You're not being nice to [me], mama. I started to cry. You're were being mad and I was crying. You took my shoes and I was crying and you were being not nice."

I tell him "you were not being nice either. You were screaming and kicking. You did the wrong thing, when I told you what the right thing to do was. You wouldn't calm down, and you screamed at mama and told her no. That's why I was mad."

We walked a little while longer. We get to the corner and get ready to turn back. I look at him and I tell him "I'm sorry I yelled at you. I was mad because you were not being nice, but I am sorry I yelled at you." He tells me "It's alright mama. I sorry too."

We walked home, the dogs are happy. I brush his teeth, he climbs into bed, we read two stories, he goes to bed happy. As I am rubbing his back we make a deal "[tank], you don't scream at mama. I won't yell at you." He says okay, sighs, and tells me sweet dreams. I tell him sweet dreams, night night, I love you bunny rabbit, like I do every night.

All in all, it was a mixed bag. It was a horrible tantrum that I know I handled terribly. My ear hurt, my throat hurt, he wanted daddy and so did I. But what we hope we have been teaching him...it works, it did actually stick. Instead of seething inside and being mad, my 3 year old son opened a dialogue with me to tell me how he felt and why...and I didn't shut him down, I validated his feelings, acknowledged my wrong and then...I apologized. I feel like I won last night, like my efforts have truly paid off. Tantrums are inevitable, especially in a child this age. Meltdowns on both sides happen. In the end, however, communication prevailed. Respect prevailed. Love won. I am happy.

Posted by lunasmom at 10:21 AM | Comments (0) | TrackBack