an epiphany, and finding patience

Epiphany: Fletcher whines three out of every four minutes that we're together. This does not mean I have done anything wrong.

People, probably all of us, have a bad tendency to assume or make things about ourselves.

I have to stop doing this with Fletcher's behavior.

It isn't me.

While there are always ways I can improve as a parent and a person, I haven't raised him wrong. When he scream-whines, it isn't because I've failed him in some way.

My son doesn't hate me. Sometimes it's hard to remember that he loves me. He doesn't say it, and there are times that his smiles and hugs feel like a distant memory. In fact, the way he looks at me sometimes, screams at me, and pulls at me, it seems that he wishes I were very different -- that he detests me for changing his diaper, or for not making and feeding him dinner within four minutes of getting home, or for needing a minute or two to not be his servant.

My son doesn't hate me.

It isn't my fault that it feels, at times, like he does.

It isn't my failure.

There are many things I can handle. Really, with Fletcher I can handle absolutely anything except four hours straight of scream-whining. At 10 pm one night, when there was something very specific that he wanted but I couldn't figure out what it was... "What is it, honey? What do you want? What are you pointing at? But there's nothing there. What do you want?" and his whining became so angry and epic that I thought my brain was fizzing and about to explode and then...

"WHAT?" I demanded in the loudest voice I have.

...from across the room his body jerked once.

"AHHHHHHHHHH," he screamed with such betrayal and desperation that it knocked him to the floor and he lay there in utter misery. Scream after scream tore from his throat, his face turning red, his eyes watering, and he denied all attempts I made to comfort him, pushing me and my useless arms away.

Denying me, because I wouldn't help him and my reaction was to yell back.

I hated myself. I knew I needed to find patience, but I couldn't and never would in that mindset. His desperation to be heard and heeded was matched by my desperation for proof that I was a great mother.

But it isn't about me.

It isn't about whether I'm a good mother or whether he loves me.

I didn't teach him to whine. I'm not doing anything to encourage it. It's a communication gap that will be crossed in time.

Whatever he wants and however he asks for it does not reflect on me.

There is patience in this epiphany. Somewhere.

trying to challenge a curious mind

I keep thinking about school, and how (in a couple short years) I would put money on the fact that Fletch will love being in an environment of learning and discovering.

I'm not challenging him enough.

There's too much TV, for one thing.

TV isn't the only thing hindering full use of his huge curiosity. There's fear of him making a huge mess or wrecking something. Fear of him getting hurt or frustrated. Mommy's tiredness. Lack of time, which may or may not be true. And of course, his age. Some toddler activities I've researched just wouldn't work for him because he would rather throw things than play with them, rather scream than listen.

I'm working toward it though. With the help of Pinterest (http://www.pinterest.com/sayschu) I'm planning activities we can try now, and in the near future. Some of the things I've pinned will be really fun if Fletch cooperates.

Let me know if you have any great, cheap, instructive, or creative ideas. Or if you know how to turn off the TV.

Photo album

December 2011 and January 2012

The boys chillin'

miniature Andy

 

McDonald's...

Christmas 2011

   

a handsome boy in his suit

Fletcher-sized picnic table handmade by Grandpa

  

picture perfect smile

Random 50 degree day in January...

Remember that time as a kid that I took my mitten off, stuck my hand in the snow, and started crying? Yeah, this little apple barely fell from the tree.

He loves being tucked into mommy and daddy's bed...

 

    

Take my hand

20 months old and drooling

My baby is a boy. He holds my hand now to pull me where he wants me, and I'm so happy to have the interaction that I go wherever he takes me, even if he pulls on me when I'm lying sick on the couch.

He may not say much ("momom," "dadada," and "up"), but he knows what bedtime means, up, down, happy feet, twirling, milk, water, more, toothbrush, outside, chair, shoes, kitty, upstairs, downstairs, home. He'll do what you ask, if he wants to. Any kind of limit is something worth screaming over.

I love spending time with him, though I never seem to have the energy and muscle to do all that he wants I want -- to keep up and encourage and jump around and pretend. It still aches in my chest each time I leave for work, even as it did when he was five weeks old, but it isn't as painful because he knows his routine as well as I do. He knows when it's time to sleep, time to get up, time to eat, time for mama to leave, time for mama to return.

Time is all I ask out of this life... just more time before I blink and he's a man who no longer wants to take his mother by the hand and lead her off the couch.


Two months of photos are coming soon. For now, this:

Autumn photos

This morning, Fletcher brought me some of his diapers. I asked him to put them back. He did. It blew me away, only because I have a hard time remembering that he understands us, at least sometimes. He may not be talking (except for some mama's and dada's), but he does communicate when he's in the mood.

 

While I did take a break from posting here, we did not take a break from photography. Lot's of autumn photos ahead...

Now that's a leaf pile!

Running free at Grandma and Grandpa's

First Spotted Cow.

I like our new refrigerator.

Cheeeeese

Making Friends With Bella

My Little Pumpkin

The First Snow