Most days with my kids are so-so. We have a little fun, they have a little fighting, they push my buttons, I enforce certain limits, and we're all pretty exhausted by the end of the day. That's normal. That's a good day's work for me.
Some days are absolutely abysmal. Those days have a lot of screaming, a string of power struggles, and my emotional energy hits rock bottom...when I am working hard to remain civil and yet I still must take care of everyone and everything in my stewardship. Those are hard days. By 4pm, I am desperate for someone to magically perceive my stress and do the rest for me. Just finish out my day, please, 'cuz I need to go to bed.
And then there are the reaaaally good days. Those days still meet their button-pushing and limit-enforcing quotas, and we still go to bed exhausted, but there's just something else about them that makes the usual rigamarole completely forgettable. And if you take pictures of that "something else", then that's all you'll remember :) Like this. My friend and I took the kids to "Touch-A-Truck Day":
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| The firefighter asked Robert if he wanted a helmet, and Robert said yes. The firefighter proceeded to hand him a red fire helmet until Buddy protested, pointing to the pink hats. The firefighter paused, looked at me with a half smile and said, "Hey, well, my nephew likes pink, too." |
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| If you click on this picture to see it larger, you can get a peek at two of James' teeth. |
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| Robert saw the pink cement mixer from across the park and decided that's where we would go next. |
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| Running up and down the tow truck rampy thingy. |
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| "How do you move the scoopy thingy on this front loader?" |
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| "Oh, right here!" |
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| Sitting in the pink cement truck cab. |
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| Gigantic bounce house! |
I've been trying to "hear" Buddy's love language lately. He's changing so rapidly. There was a streak of days (again?) when I felt like everything I did with him was the exact opposite of helpful. It was one screaming tantrum and power struggle after another. Love and Logic teaches that a child must feel genuinely loved in order for discipline to matter. If I could only figure out what motivated Robert to do what he did, then we could start speaking the same language. I could show him that I love him in his own language.
I prayed for help, which meant I was really desperate (why do I wait so long to ask for help?! Sheesh), and watched him closely and thought and thought and thought about it. I finally realized that there were two things Robert excelled in and enjoyed doing: 1) being silly, and 2) competing. So, the last couple of days, I've tried to be a little more silly and a little more competitive. When I could see his mood turning defiant or dark in response to how I worded something, I changed my tone and threw something silly in there. So far, a few times, his furrowed brow has turned to a quizzical look, then a smile, and finally compliance. Even reverence during prayers has improved since Bobby and I "competed" for Buddy to choose us as a praying partner. Is "being silly" a love language? It must be for Buddy. Jokes and silly answers to questions used to drive Alice to tears at this age. We had to be completely honest with her and nothing else. Buddy, though, seems to understand fiction better. He thrives on it...silly names for things, absurd answers to mundane questions (especially if he already knows the correct answer like, "Where's Alice?), and plain old silly voices and rough housing. We chased each other with sticks today.
Now to teach Alice this...maybe they'll fight less :)
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