This morning Mille, my adorable 5 year old, had a major breakdown. It was over wanting some fruit leather, and I told her she had to put away her clothes first. She was crying, then screaming and beyond the point of reason.
I wanted to handle it like a good, powerful, purposeful, nurturing mother. I was not going to give in on the leather and knew that after the fit she could not have it at all, regardless of putting away her clothes. I had the dilemma of what to do during her fit - which sometimes last for over an hour - and that seems an eternity. I know there are many parts of her getting upset that are because I have not always kept firm rules and boundaries with her - I am a very imperfect mother. And it is only recently that she has gained enough language skills to have a logical conversation, where I understand her, and feel she understands what I am saying. So we are in a transition phase of holding her to a higher expectation of social behavior.
I was at my wits end, pleading silently for God to help me, when my good husband called so we could have our morning prayer. (I was asleep when he left for work, because I had stayed up late writing the night before, but he is the one who told me all good writers write between the hours of 10 and midnight or 5 and 7am - I am still hopeful of training my body to those morning hours eventually, but for now, night is definately when my mind wants to spew forth thoughts.)
I left Mille screaming in the middle of the kitchen floor and went to a quiet room, locked the door and we prayed. Then I went about my chores, until I heard her start to calm down. From there the Spirit took over. I was given the words to say. I asked if I could hold her - touch sometimes really sets her off. She said yes. Then I asked her if she knew why she was in timeout (meaning mom is ignoring her) She tried to deflect the conversation with tangents and I kept going back to that question until she said no. Then I told her it was because she was screaming and crying.
I don't remember the whole conversation, but she wanted to talk about choosing the right, and about choosing the wrong. Then I told her how proud I was of all the things she had learned how to do this year - get herself dressed, do zippers, count, recognize most of the letters and say their sounds, feed herself.
I told her there was a new skill I wanted to teach her. It is called "Okay" I asked her to say that and she did and giggled. Then I said it is really tricky to say it when someone tell you "no." Do you think you can say "okay" if I tell you "no?"
She nodded.
Ask me for a treat
"Can I have a treat?" with a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.
"Mille, this is where you have to say okay and it is going to be hard. No, you can't have a treat."
Pause, she looked unsure.
Mom - "Say 'okay'"
Mille- "Okay"
Mom - "Great job" with lots of enthusiasm and a high five.
Then we practiced a few more times. When Cassidy and Wyatt came in, we showed them, and had them try it. When dad got home, we practiced again to show him.
It was pure inspiration - and strength from on high - My heart was full of gratitude for a Savior who helps me in my daily struggles.
I wanted to handle it like a good, powerful, purposeful, nurturing mother. I was not going to give in on the leather and knew that after the fit she could not have it at all, regardless of putting away her clothes. I had the dilemma of what to do during her fit - which sometimes last for over an hour - and that seems an eternity. I know there are many parts of her getting upset that are because I have not always kept firm rules and boundaries with her - I am a very imperfect mother. And it is only recently that she has gained enough language skills to have a logical conversation, where I understand her, and feel she understands what I am saying. So we are in a transition phase of holding her to a higher expectation of social behavior.
I was at my wits end, pleading silently for God to help me, when my good husband called so we could have our morning prayer. (I was asleep when he left for work, because I had stayed up late writing the night before, but he is the one who told me all good writers write between the hours of 10 and midnight or 5 and 7am - I am still hopeful of training my body to those morning hours eventually, but for now, night is definately when my mind wants to spew forth thoughts.)
I left Mille screaming in the middle of the kitchen floor and went to a quiet room, locked the door and we prayed. Then I went about my chores, until I heard her start to calm down. From there the Spirit took over. I was given the words to say. I asked if I could hold her - touch sometimes really sets her off. She said yes. Then I asked her if she knew why she was in timeout (meaning mom is ignoring her) She tried to deflect the conversation with tangents and I kept going back to that question until she said no. Then I told her it was because she was screaming and crying.
I don't remember the whole conversation, but she wanted to talk about choosing the right, and about choosing the wrong. Then I told her how proud I was of all the things she had learned how to do this year - get herself dressed, do zippers, count, recognize most of the letters and say their sounds, feed herself.
I told her there was a new skill I wanted to teach her. It is called "Okay" I asked her to say that and she did and giggled. Then I said it is really tricky to say it when someone tell you "no." Do you think you can say "okay" if I tell you "no?"
She nodded.
Ask me for a treat
"Can I have a treat?" with a glimmer of excitement in her eyes.
"Mille, this is where you have to say okay and it is going to be hard. No, you can't have a treat."
Pause, she looked unsure.
Mom - "Say 'okay'"
Mille- "Okay"
Mom - "Great job" with lots of enthusiasm and a high five.
Then we practiced a few more times. When Cassidy and Wyatt came in, we showed them, and had them try it. When dad got home, we practiced again to show him.
It was pure inspiration - and strength from on high - My heart was full of gratitude for a Savior who helps me in my daily struggles.
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