401.5 days of loving more!

Well, crap, I lost one of my son’s loveys AGAIN. You would think I would have learned the first time…and the second time…and the third time…and the fourth time that no matter what “friends” stay in beds and cribs all day. But clearly, based on my digging through trash, and drawers, and cabinets and taking apart toys and furniture (again), I haven’t learned my lesson.  UGH. Why am I writing? I smell! I need to take a shower, then ice my knees from crawling all over the floor all night, and then ice my finger that I dropped not one, but two dresser drawers on as I hastily pulled them out in search of Mr. Bunny.

But, oh, oh the things we do for lost loveys!
And, oh, oh the agonizing heartfelt pain of losing a lovey.

Why is that by the way? Yesterday when Mr. Bunny was missing, my 19 month old didn’t care. He had his back up one so all was well with the world and yet I spent at least one hour looking for the lost lovey. One hour that I could have spent taking advantage of having Grandma here to help and actually checked off a few things on the to-do list. But no, I insisted on looking for Mr. Bunny. I just HAD to find him. Why?? Why am I more attached to my kid’s loveys than they are? Seriously?!

While they have cried over lost friends (loveys) in the past, eventually they move on and choose another friend as a best friend to snuggle with at night whereas I continue to dwell on how I lost track of such a sentimental friend; how I failed my kiddo. I know, sounds a bit extreme, but it just feels so awful because losing a lovey isn’t just losing a stuffed animal, it’s losing something so much more, it’s losing something that I would never, ever want to lose, that I promised myself I would never ever lose because of it’s importance…to my son and to me.

My son’s lovey is an extension of me when I am not there. It’s a guaranteed source of comfort for him when everything around him is falling apart. It’s a friend to hold in the emergency room when mommy has to use two hands to help keep the breathing mask on. It’s a friend to snuggle when I am out of the house and he misses me. And well, my son’s “lovey” isn’t just my son’s security item; I’m realizing that as I write this that it is also mine! Knowing that when all my efforts to soothe my son’s tears don’t work, that Mr. Bunny can magically make them stop, well, that gives me security. Knowing that my son has a friend that is soft and gentle and cuddly, a friend that can’t hurt him, that gives me security. And yes, knowing that my son still needs and wants a lovie gives me security that he is still indeed a child, that my baby isn’t all entirely grown up…yet.

Yes, I think I am most devastated about Mr. Bunny missing because I am just not ready to lose a symbol of my last son’s childhood. I know he and all my boys will grow up, but oh, even though these days can be hard and long, I am in no rush for my boys to grow up. And even though it was a big pain to have spent hours today looking for Mr. Bunny, I am glad that there are still loveys in my house to be lost and hopefully found! Childhood goes by faster than all the experienced moms told me and I am just so not ready to lose Mr. Bunny, the first lovey #4 ever received and one of the last threads to having a “young” child in the house.

My son’s lovey is something ever so special to both of us, something that I always want him to have when he needs, and let’s face it, it is something I always want to have around, whether in his crib, his hands, or in his memory box, because it reminds me so very much of his precious infancy, of his childhood. Mr. Bunny simply is NOT allowed to be lost. I will put him away in a safe place when my son and I are both ready to do so (okay, when I am ready to do so.) But tonight is not the night. Even though I conceded earlier tonight with a very heavy heart that Mr. Bunny was indeed lost, I will look again once more tomorrow. I am not just holding on tight to any symbol of the precious moments in my son’s childhood, but I am also holding on tight to the hope that I will find him!

Mr. Bunny where are you? WE miss you and love you!!!

*

I wrote the above after I called off the search party. Taking a break from looking cleared my mind. When I closed the computer to go to sleep, I had a new idea pop into my head. It donned on me that #4 has been on his tippy toes more and more lately, that he has been reaching his little fingers higher and higher, that he has been bound and determined to get into drawers that he can’t reach.  I ran to the one room full of drawers galore and like a child on Christmas morning and tore open the drawers with excitement and anticipation. Voila! Mr. Bunny wasn’t in the bottom two drawers but in the 3^rd drawer…the drawer I thought he couldn’t reach! I grabbed Mr. Bunny and ran to my mother…

“See! See! I knew it! I knew he was in the house!”

I jumped up and down like a child. I was as happy as my son probably was when he finally got that difficult drawer open.

Which got me thinking.

When something really matters to the heart, remain patient, persevere and get on your tippy toes to reach higher. My son was determined to open that higher drawer. He didn’t quit when he couldn’t, when it got hard. His mind was on it and he kept at it. I have no doubt that he pushed himself up on those tippy toes, stretched his chubby little fingers out and then shoved Mr. Bunny in with all his might. I had this same attitude when I started The Orange Rhino Challenge but have sometimes lost my determination. I am going to embrace and remember this attitude whenever I want to quit. If #4 had quit, he wouldn’t have opened that drawer he couldn’t reach. Yes, then I wouldn’t have heartbreak yesterday but I also wouldn’t have been reminded to keep pushing myself when the going gets tough. If my 19-month-old son can push himself to reach higher, so can I.

393 days of loving more!

This is a hard post to write.
You know, sometimes it is just really hard to share the truth.
And not because it is that horrifically awful but because I don’t want to hear myself speak the truth. Because I don’t want to relive the truth. I don’t want to feel the frustration and disappointment all over again.

And that is what I feel right now.

Yesterday wasn’t a good day. I simply wasn’t the mom I hope to be, I wasn’t the mom I know I can be but more so, I simply was NOT the mom that my oldest needs me to be. I wasn’t there for him yesterday. I wasn’t there for him. And that just breaks my heart into a thousand pieces. He is so young and trying so hard to navigate his social anxiety and he needed me to help and instead of being as patient and empathetic as I know I can be, I was snappy and irritable.

Did I yell at him? No. (Phew. Then I would really be feeling dreadful.)
But did I pick him up less gently than I would have liked when I put him in time out? Yes.

Did I keep piling on expectation after expectation on him when I knew he couldn’t handle them, or anything at the moment and just needed me to help him calm down? Yes.

Did I start to get all exasperated with the situation instead of crawling under the dining room table with him and just holding him, and loving him, and telling him how much I love him and that it will be okay? Yes.

Like I said, yesterday wasn’t such a good day.

My son hid under the table because he was struggling. He was overwhelmed and angry with me for saying “no” to something and didn’t know what else to do. It was actually quite brilliant – he made a fort out of the chairs so no one would bother him and so he wouldn’t bother anyone and get in trouble. He built a fort to protect himself…because I didn’t offer him the safety that he sought.

My son barricaded me out. And while it is wonderful that he demonstrated how to handle his emotions on his own, it still was a hurtful reminder that I wasn’t there for him. That I saw his S.O.S. signs and ignored them because I was frustrated at the moment. That I sensed my OWN S.O.S. signs that I was losing it and ignored them because I was tired and embarrassed by his behavior in front of our guests.

I don’t like any of the definitions of Anger so a while back I created my own. I try to keep myself in the G and under range otherwise yelling becomes more and more tempting!

Yes, I sensed that I was Annoyed and I let it grow to Negative feelings. I started thinking, oh he is acting so awful, instead of thinking, oh he is acting so overwhelmed and wanting help. And I let that negativity push me into an awful state of Grumpiness where all I did was be short and snappy with him instead of patient and loving. (By the way, short and snappy? Not really helpful in situations like this!)

I would love to lie and say that when I sensed I was heading past the grumpy stage, when I sensed that I was headed towards Exasperation (and potentially yelling) that I walked away and listened to all the advice that I share with you on my blog – like having a hug-of-love instead of a tug-of-war, like stomping my feet like a Rhino to stomp out my frustration, like “snapping” out of it – and that helped me keep my growing anger tame and helped me be more loving, but I didn’t.

And I would love to lie and say that even when I knew I was being overly snappy, even when I knew I wasn’t reaching my hands forward to pull the chairs back to go under the table with him but rather abruptly putting them on my hips in pure exasperation, that I finally heeded my S.O.S. signs and walked away for a breather so I could squelch my growing anger.  But I didn’t.

Oh and I would love to lie and say that I finally sat patiently on the floor near him and waited for him to come out of hiding instead of leaving the room, but I can’t. I can’t lie.

But what I can do? What I did yesterday. After feeling disappointed in myself that I let myself get past level “G” of anger, after feeling disappointed that I let myself get all exasperated instead of using one of my tips to get to a place where I could be empathetic, after feeling disappointed that I didn’t do what I know I needed to do in that situation, I finally said to myself the one thing I say to many of you all when you feel frustrated from yelling:

“Forgive yourself. You are only human. You are not perfect and you don’t need to be. Pick up and move on to the next moment.”

Yes, I am only human. I am not perfect. And that’s okay. Yes, I don’t yell but yes I do still have moments where I wish I parented a little better, a little softer, a little more lovingly. Yes, yesterday was one of those days. GOSH how I wish I tore back the chairs and grabbed my son in my arms and held him like a baby and told him “I love you. I know it is hard and I know you are frustrated with yourself and with me. But we can get through this, okay? Just let me hold you and love you. We both need it.”

GOSH how I wish I did that because then I wouldn’t have felt all frustrated, sad and annoyed with myself later that day for not staying as cool as I like. But again, I didn’t pull the chairs back and I did get more frustrated than I like but dwelling on it longer than I did would not make matters better. Dwelling on it yesterday, and even today, will just bring me down and keep me from being able to try my best in the next challenging moment. And dwelling on it, well I learned early on that dwelling, especially when I feel like I “failed” is a big ‘ole trigger. Yes, it is pretty hard to keep my emotions in check, it is very hard to keep them G rated or below, when I am dwelling on something.

So yesterday I forgave myself, I loved myself and celebrated that I didn’t yell and eventually when I did all that, well I was able to love my son how he deserved and how I wanted to. It was a little late, but better late than never….

*

I wrote this post Tuesday. Today we had another hard moment. But today, I immediately dropped to my knees and went under the table with my son. I can honestly say that if I was still dwelling on Monday’s episode (which by the way, the old me would have been), I wouldn’t have been able to go under that table today because I would have been in a huge twit still, completely incapable of remaining calm and loving. Yes, I would have been stuck feeling even more exasperated. So yeah, not dwelling feels way better.

386 days of loving more! 

I’ve written a lot about my oldest son and his emotional struggles.
I’ve written a lot about my third son and his speech delay.
And I’ve obviously written a lot about my fourth son and his seizure activity.

But I haven’t written a lot about sweet #2. I am not sure why. It certainly isn’t because there is nothing to write. There is plenty of good, and plenty of not-so-good. If I had to guess I haven’t written about him because of all four boys, he is the one that I have figured out the least. I “know” generally speaking how to help my first, third and fourth sons with their issues because I understand their issues. Although there is no perfect clarity, I at least have a roadmap and a group of people to support and help me with their distinct challenges.

But #2, sweet #2, well, I am still working to understand how to help him. He struggles to fit in and has been picked on and excluded more than a four year old should be, which is perhaps why I don’t write about it. It is outright too bloody painful to admit and share. He struggles with impulse control more so than typical for his age group, which is perhaps why I don’t write about it because I feel judgment and labels will come flying. And he struggles with always feeling not good enough and well, sometimes I feel I contribute to that.

But you know what else, he gives the greatest hugs in the world. He rubs my back sometimes…just because. He tells me he loves me first thing in the morning right after he asks me “how did you sleep mommy?” And he has a zest for life that is absolutely, positively 110% inspirational.

Rumor has it that despite his struggles, which can be a turn off to me at times, and to his classmates and his teachers, he is an awesome kid. Wait, that’s not a rumor. It’s true. My second son is awesome. Like all of us in this world, he is just trying to find his way and as his mom, I am just trying to find my way to support him because the last thing that I want to be is another reason he feels picked on or not good enough. Not the rumor, but the truth, is that I just want to love him as much as I can. And sometimes that means letting him be right. Because sometimes, being right doesn’t really matter.

We were driving in the car last week and the song “Rumor Has It” by Adele came on. #1 started singing.

“Rumor has it. Rumor has it.”

Then #2 felt the need to sing too.

“Puma has it. Ooooo Ooooo Puma has it.”

“That’s wrong! It’s Rumor has it. R-U-M-O-R!” said #1.

“No, it’s PUMA. I swear.” #2 insisted with such a passion that I almost thought he was right. I felt the need to intervene and correct him, why I don’t know. Maybe because he is also in speech therapy and is working on his R’s?

“Actually #2, it is rumor. Rrrr-umor.” I said sweetly and patiently.

“NO Mommy. It’s not. I heard it with my very own ears. I’m pretty smart you know. Really smart actually. Trust me, it’s Puma has it.”

“Sweetie, is sure does sound like Puma but it is Rumor.” I said again. And again, why? Why was I making such a big deal of this? Fingers crossed the song would be off the radio soon and it wouldn’t matter anyway. For the record I can’t stand this song. Can’t. Stand. It.

“NO MOMMY! YOU ARE WRONG AND I AM RIGHT!” He said to me ever so loudly and this time with tears in his eyes. He wasn’t crying…yet. The tears were just caught in the corner of his eyes, waiting to fall out as they always do. As they always do.

Hugging my number 2. Gosh, just looking at this makes me cry. Oh how I love him so!

#2 cries a lot. He cries when he gets picked on (understood.) He cries when no one sits next to him at birthday parties (the crying understood. The not sitting next to him? Not so much. He is awesome and funny and has a heart of gold.) And he cries when he tries so hard to say something right, when he tries so hard to be liked, to be a part of something.

Those small tears were the best gift ever to me. They reminded me that sometimes, being right really doesn’t matter. That sometimes, letting things go and moving on is not only okay, but necessary. This was one of those cases.

“Okay #2, you might very well be right. You do have good hearing ears, don’t you?”

“Yes, I do.”

The refrain played again.

“See mommy, Puma has it, I told you so. I am SOOOOO smart.”

And I was sooooo smart for letting go and accepting that it really is a rumor that it’s necessary as a parent to always be right. Because letting go, letting my son be right over such a small thing to me, but a huge thing to him, well, it gave him a moment of self confidence that he so desperately seeks…and needs.

*

So often I yelled because I wanted things my way because my way was *obviously* right, ie. how to clean up and organize the basement. As soon as I learned to let go a bit and pick my battles more carefully, yelling less became infinitely easier. 

380 days of loving more!

A few weeks before my wedding I got some of the best advice from a friend who had just been a Bridesmaid. She said, “whatever happens, choose to smile and laugh, don’t be a b*tch.” I kid you not. At the moment, I thought this was peculiar advice. Of course I wouldn’t be a b*tch on my wedding day! I would be oozing love and joy and all things magical and wonderful of course!

And then during my cocktail hour, a friend and I went to hug and in our exuberance misjudged our arm placements. We collectively knocked his glass of red wine down the front of my dress. My beautiful, white, wedding dress. What’s a Bride to do?

I laughed, of course!

And then, as my mother and friends tried to rush me to the bathroom to save my dress, I joyfully said, “It’s all good! Really! Let me eat some h’orsdeuvres!” They looked at me in disbelief. Who was this Bride and where was the real person they knew who flipped out over the smallest things??? And then in the bathroom, as they all tried to clean my dress, I continued laughing and said, “Just give me some more wine, I’ll pour it on my dress in other spots and make a polka dot dress!” I was not kidding, not one bit.

All that is missing from this picture is my smile and my mother’s face with her draw dropped open, expressing her thought “The dress, the dress! The wine is on the beading and the front!”

Was I drunk? Nope. I just remembered the advice from my friend and CHOSE to not let the great red wine incident of January 3, 2004 ruin my Wedding Day. See, when my friend was a bridesmaid a few weeks prior to my wedding, she witnessed the Bride go ballistic on a fellow bridesmaid after she accidentally spilled wine all over her. My friend explained to me how the Bride singlehandedly ruined both her own wedding and one of her friendships with her terse words and screaming, hissy fit. As she shared this story with me she said, “Whatever you do, if something goes wrong at your wedding, because it probably will, don’t be that Bride. Choose to enjoy everything else around you.”

Choose.

Such a key word. I am so glad that I chose on my wedding day to let the red wine incident go. In fact, short of getting married, it is one of my favorite memories of that day. Oddly enough though, despite that wonderful experience and knowing that I can always make the choice to focus on the positive and not the negative, when I became a mom I completely forgot this lesson! Before this challenge, I did a truly phenomenal job of letting small or big annoying things bring me down and ruin special days. Blech.

I remember my first birthday as a mom. I remember my son crying all day and my just wanting to have fun and celebrate. I let it get to me instead of enjoying all the phone calls and cards and flowers that arrived that day; I let the crying ruin my mood, my day.

I remember my first Thanksgiving with two kids and trying to get a family picture for a Christmas Card. I remember the tears from all three of us because no one was cooperating and I just wanted the perfect card. I let my disappointment get to me; I let it ruin my mood, my Thanksgiving day.

I remember our first family vacation to the beach with three kids in tow. I remember being so frustrated that it wasn’t a real vacation, that no child was sleeping, that I couldn’t sit back and read a book. I let my annoyances get to me; I let them ruin my first three vacation days.

On day 4, I finally woke up and remembered something. I had a choice. I could choose to complain and whine or choose to embrace the beach, crying babies and all. I chose to embrace all that was around me and ignore the few things getting me down. The rest of the vacation was great. Not perfect, but great nonetheless.

On my 365^th day of my challenge when my son had his seizure I felt anger; and I have felt it for the last few weeks. BUT I made a choice that day. I would NOT let that seizure ruin my day, and I didn’t.  I had my angry moment and then I focused on how grateful I was that my husband was home to help. I focused on how grateful I was that even though the emergency medicine didn’t work, he still came out of the seizure okay. I focused on how excited my boys were to release balloons and eat celebratory cake. I focused on how lucky I was to have such a supportive Orange Rhino Community. And you know what else I did that day? After I cried, and re-focused on all the good things? I laughed.

I laughed because I knew in my heart of hearts that #4 would have a seizure that day. I just knew it, so much so I almost wrote it down on paper and hid it to show my husband later. If there is one thing I have learned as a mom it’s that chances are that on the days and times that I really, really want to be totally awesome and perfect and special, as long as I have young children, something will probably go wrong. Whether it be one child doesn’t nap and is cranky, one child gets a fever, one child falls, or one child just knows I want the day to be easy and therefore refuses to let it be as such, the chance is something will not meet my expectations.

And I have finally accepted that and it is OKAY with me and thankfully stopped yelling at those moments. My kids are just kids; they don’t need to be perfect. And I don’t need perfect moments. I just need happy moments and I can choose to make imperfect moments, happy. I can choose to be a little more laid back with more realistic expectations because that does help the moment go smoother (and keeps me from yelling.) And I can choose to focus on the good even when things happen beyond my control because they are going to, time and time again.

That certainly was the case two weeks ago. But thank gosh for The Orange Rhino Challenge because it is a daily reminder that just like on my wedding day, I have a choice every moment. I can let things get to me when my expectations for a special “perfect” day aren’t met and I can be a yelling, hissy fit b*tch, or I can be a loving mom who goes with the flow and appreciates the perfectly imperfect moments!

I am going with the flow a lot more now and I have got to tell you, it makes for a lot more beautiful, yell-free memories. This is entirely new territory for me – not letting unmet expectations ruin special moments or days – and I still struggle at times to remember to make the choice to focus on the positive. But when I do, oh does it truly feel better. It feels great not fretting and fighting over Christmas pictures, not complaining and crying over restless vacations, and not yelling and yipping over my kids behavior when they are just being kids and are trying their best to please me (because they are you know….)

At the end of the day, my kids are not perfect; I am not perfect. Together we will not always have perfect moments. But, we can have lots of happily imperfect ones that are perfect because we are together…and because I choose to focus on the positive, not the negative.

* Note: Emphasis on the I am not perfect. I am not, truly. I believe everything I have written here but will sometimes forget it. But I will still try to embrace and remember all of it because again, when I do, it is awesome.

379 days of loving more!

Two Wednesdays ago was supposed to be a most joyous day. It was my 365^th day of not yelling. I woke up excited, proud, and so happy. I woke up eager for the day of celebrating with my boys to start. I woke up to start writing only to hear all my 4 boys up at 5:30. Ironically, on this momentous day, I went to yell but stopped myself. I knew they were all awake because they too were excited; there was no reason to squash that! They too were planning a fun day and were eager to get on with it. I took a deep breath, closed my mouth and pretended to not see them as they scampered downstairs to decorate the kitchen with daddy and put out signs shouting congratulations. My youngest, #4, now 18 months, had settled himself back to sleep so I settled back into writing.

Around 6:30, I was informed that it was time for me to come downstairs as long as I was wearing my orange sweater and orange jewelry (well of course I was!) I headed to #4’s room to wake him so he could join me in the family celebration.

Well, this is where the joyous day took a turn. My sweet son was awake all right; and having another darn seizure. (Ah, two weeks later and the tears that I have held so tight to my heart finally start falling out as I write this….) I shouted down to my husband to grab the video camera and the emergency medicine to stop the seizure. We watched him, helpless. My husband, who never experienced a seizure, wanted so desperately to help him. “Don’t touch him sweetie, he’ll come out of it. 3 minutes can pass and we’ll give him his medicine.” I said, trying to be reassuring even though I didn’t even believe what I said.

I watched the clock and him anxiously. My other sons now stood beside us in the nursery.

“Mommy, come downstairs!”
“Mommy, here’s an orange rose for you.”
“Mommy? Mommy? MOMMY!”

I wanted to scream “NOT NOW!” but I knew that would break their hearts. I found all the calmness and togetherness I could and said,

“Oh thank you for the rose boys. I love it! And oh I am SO excited to see what you have done. I am so lucky! But right now I need to take care of #4, okay? I promise I will come down real soon. I love you.”

Darnit. It broke MY heart! My three sons were so proud and excited and I had to put that on hold because of another darn, not understood, unexplainable, yet potentially dangerous seizure.  And the seizure BROKE MY HEART too. Again? Really? I thought we were out of the woods. I was so hopeful. And today? Of all days? (Well today was actually the perfect day because Daddy stayed home late and could help and because it gave me one last chance to practice staying calm!)

3 minutes passed; we administered the medicine. It didn’t work. He continued to seize, his lips now turning blue at the edges; a trip to the Emergency Room was in order. I grabbed some things and we all raced downstairs.

I ran into the kitchen, the beautifully, 110% orange kitchen. Oh how I wanted to stop and enjoy the moment, the celebration of a year’s worth of work. Oh how I wanted to hug my boys and say thank you and it’s wonderful. Oh how I wanted to hug my husband and say it was just the perfect way to start the day. Instead I squeaked out an “It’s great guys, now please, run to the car.”

The oldest two ran; the third insisted on shoes that day of course. And not just crocs, but sneakers. And no he didn’t have socks on. My husband and I were getting antsy as #4 continue seizing but we stayed calm; we both know after a year of not yelling that getting uptight when needing to rush achieves nothing.

We arrived at the hospital. I ran in and got rushed into the Pediatric Emergency Room for oxygen. Twenty minutes later #4 finally woke up (he had fell asleep or passed out at home; I don’t know which one.) At that point my husband had sent me an email with a picture of the kitchen and I burst into tears.

Tears of ANGER. I was SO angry. So very, very angry. Angry at myself – I had bought a video monitor per the neurologist’s suggestion yet forgot to bring it to my desk that morning. What if I had it with me? Would I have seen the seizure earlier? And I was angry at my son’s condition, not him, but his seizures. Why today? Why today? Today was supposed to start with hugs and high fives, not tears and terror. And I was angry with the doctors who still do not agree on the proper medical path to take.

And it turns out, two weeks later, I am still angry. Why? Because we still don’t have a clear path. We still have seizures that are getting worse and we still have two of the top pediatric neurologists in the country disagreeing as to what to do. So yeah, I am ANGRY. I am angry because I love my son and want to help him and right now, it doesn’t feel like I can.

This anger has been eating me up for two weeks now, perhaps longer. And the result? I have not been a pleasant person to be around. I have not been as loving as I wish to be. And my kids, they feel my anger, my stress and they are showing it in their own way and are as expected, more difficult to be around. Which leads me to one conclusion:

There is no upside to anger.

None. Anger does me no good. It doesn’t make me feel better. It doesn’t help me move forward. It doesn’t help me be more loving and calm and understanding so that I can have a good head on my shoulders to figure things out and feel less angry. It certainly doesn’t help me parent better! Anger just brings me down. Yes, there is a moment for anger. Yes, I know some famous psychologist or something speaks of anger as part of the grieving process. So yes, I am okay with feeling anger, but it’s what I do with it that is really important. I need to let it go so that it doesn’t affect everyone around me, especially those I love dearly.

Anger has been on my mind for months actually, and not just because of the seizures. Looking back at my year of not yelling, I realized that anger is such a huge part of yelling. I have looked up definitions of anger numerous times on this journey to try and write about it but surprise, surprise, I didn’t like any of the definitions. So, I made my own this week:

A.nnoyed
N.egative
G.rumpy
E.xasperated
R.ageful

Those are the five feelings I feel when I am headed towards anger.

I start mildly annoyed (ugh, you didn’t pick up your shoes.) The annoyance grows to negative feelings all around (don’t you ever clean up?) which leads to grumpiness (seriously, can you do nothing right, harrumph, this day is gonna stink), and then exasperation (oh my gosh, how can I get you to pick up your shoes? I don’t know what to do!)

Of course after all these feelings, comes rage followed by a big ‘ole yell! What starts so small and simple as annoyance can so easily lead to negative attitudes, grumpiness, and exasperation and rage. In the past, when I hit rage, or even exasperation, that is when I charged; that is when I charged with my words.

At the start of my challenge someone pointed out to me the most beautifully ironic thing:

theorANGERhinochallenge

Do you see it? Anger is hidden in the name of my challenge. Surreal. It is a complete accident and yet such a wonderful one. Because this challenge, for me, I realize now has been making sure that I don’t let myself ever feel all those 5 feelings at once again. It has been about teaching myself to manage them, so when they come on I can let them go. One by one. The key for me has been to tame the annoyance quickly so that it doesn’t spiral into the following stages; so that it doesn’t become full-blown anger.

I haven’t tamed my annoyance lately and it’s showing. I’m more negative. I’m grumpier. I’m getting exasperated; not just about my son’s medical condition but about my all my sons’ behaviors (acceptable and unacceptable.) And I know what’s next; a big ‘ole, most likely unnecessary, yell.

So, it’s time to let go of my anger. Because again, anger does me not good. Anger at my son’s medical predicament does me no good. Anger at my sons’ for whatever reason does me no good. Anger just leads me to yelling and that is not a path I wish to take again. There is no upside to anger; and there certainly is no upside to yelling.

End Note: I ended up having a great day. I got to snuggle with little man all day and still celebrate with my boys. All 5 of them. Daddy stayed home because of the seizure so it turned out to be a family day…even better! 

*
To read related posts to my son’s medical situation click on the links below!
Waiting to Exhale
Waiting to Exhale, Part 2
Code Orange Rhino
A Time to Yell