- I asked him to stop pressing both feet into the soft tissue of my abdomen while snuggling this morning in bed.
- I asked him to pick up the yogurt-laden fork he flung across the room.
- He didn't want to nap.
- Brother got the blue cup.
- He doesn't want to wear an overnight diaper.
- I included the family dog in my made-up lullaby at bedtime.
Wow, it's a trying time and I'm paying close attention to my reactions. I notice when I am tired or rushed, I have a hair-trigger response to defiance. Adding adult anger to a toddler meltdown never ends well, you probably know.
|Little cherub looking onward towards the heavens - ha!|
With the snuggling in bed incident, I was able to just be present to his experience. I was enjoying the closeness, just not the pressure in my ribs. I hadn't shamed him in asking him to stop, I was simply expressing my bodily boundary. His tears were his own and I didn't feel compelled to make them stop or figure out a solution. It made me wonder how many of his meltdowns would melt away if I can just get to that place of feeling centered and gently curious toward his experience (versus anger, impatience, a desire to maintain my authority, teach a lesson, etc). What's the definition of mindfulness, again?: Awareness without judgement. That sounds so simple, doesn't it?
I know it would be cute to include a photo of Ez in an anguished-face tantrum but, you know?, I find that really disrespectful. I would be so pissed if someone took a photo of me in my angry meltdown face! Besides, it really does help me to visualize E as this sweet, small child bathed in light, needing my protection and guidance.