When I was little and being particularly obnoxious (pretty much all the time) my mother would tell me "Jessica Lynn I will sell you to the Eskimos"
It never made me behave. Igloos, dogsleds, and those furry hoods sounded pretty awesome to me. Plus she was my mom. She would never really sell me to anyone… even if sometimes she really wanted to.
Tantrums come in waves around here. We will have a few really hard weeks, and then a few weeks of smooth sailing. Sometimes we will try an activity that he has loved before, and it turns into one huge fit. It is emotionally exhausting actually its physically exhausting too. It makes me remember my mom and her threat to sell me to the Eskimos. Perhaps at times she was more serious than I thought. Because this mom thing can be really hard.
This is what I have learned lately.
For starters when Jack is in a good mood, I need to enjoy it. We need to play and have fun. I need to hear that giggle and see that big goofy grin. I can't use all of his happy well behaved time to "get stuff done." Because then I'm skimming over the good parts.
I need to care less about raised eyebrows and sideways glances from people who have obviously never taken a toddler to a restaurant before. Look lady with the "Why doesn't that mother teach her child to behave" look plastered on your face- I get it. I need to teach my child to not scream and throw things. Trust me I know. But here is what you don't get. This tiny little boy is filled to the brim with big emotions. He isn't screaming just because. While its my job as his mom to teach him to behave, its also my job to communicate with him. To decipher the screams and the growls- yes growls. Just because he hasn't figured out how to properly express his emotions, doesn't mean they aren't real. So lady I'm sorry we ruined your lunch break. But not that sorry. I am more sorry to my son. Sorry that I spent any of my energy, time, and focus caring that we were bothering you. I should have been focused on his needs. I shouldn't have let you get me so frazzled. Because then I wasn't any help to anyone.
The biggest lesson I'm learning these days is patience. Patience with myself. Patience with Jack. Patience with the raised eyebrows.
My sweet visiting teachers came to see me this last week and shared a message my soul desperately needed to hear. We talked about Elder Wilford W. Andersen's talk from conference,
The Music of the Gospel. This was my favorite part,
"It won’t come all at once. As every accomplished musician knows, it takes diligent practice to perform beautiful music. If early efforts at making music seem dissonant and discordant, remember that dissonance cannot be corrected by criticism. Dissonance in the home is like darkness in a room. It does little good to scold the darkness. We must displace the darkness by introducing light.
So if the basses in your family choir are too loud and overbearing, or if the string section in your family orchestra is a little too shrill or a little bit sharp, or if those impetuous piccolos are out of tune or out of control, be patient. If you’re not hearing the music of the gospel in your home, please remember these two words: keep practicing. With God’s help, the day will come when the music of the gospel will fill your home with unspeakable joy."
Jack Vincent and I will keep practicing. And I will love him like crazy the whole time. When he is screaming and yelling and laying on the ground. When he hitting me because I won't let him play in the street. When I feel like I am failing him and failing at this mom thing, I will love him like crazy. We will take deep breaths and start over, and over, and over again. I will cut myself some slack and remind myself of another thing my mom says "It's ok to make breakfast for dinner." I will let the little stuff go. I will peek at him while he is sleeping. Because I am convinced God intentionally made children look peaceful and innocent in their sleep so that mama hearts could recharge during nap time. Otherwise we might end up selling them to the Eskimos.
