291 days of not yelling, 74 days of loving more to go!

Dear Mother-in-Law-dearest,

Not gonna lie. I am thrilled that you hardly, if ever, are on the internet. As such, I can “safely” share this blog post without you saying “I told you so!”

Fondly,
Your daughter-in-law

*
(Disclaimer: As far as mother-in-law’s go, I am pretty gosh darn lucky. I am actually grateful that mine is mine. Even if she annoys me sometimes, read on!)

It’s that time of year. A time to give thanks, a time to count or bountiful blessings, a time to eat up all the beautiful moments that family can bring. But for my ever-optimistic mother-in-law, it isn’t a time of year, it’s a way of living. She still writes hand written thank you cards even for simple thinks like having us for Thanksgiving Dinner, taking the time to call, sharing a story about the boys. She says thank you to anyone and everyone who she shares an exchange with during the day and she finds a way to be grateful and say something positive even when times are really bad, like right now when the love her life is failing way too quickly to Alzheimers.

And as much as admire her positive outlook, I must admit, sometimes it does feel a bit much. Sometimes I feel overwhelmed (jealous?) by her ability to not just find gratitude, but to feel it and share it with everyone. Okay and well sometimes, sometimes I feel just really annoyed by it.

To be clear, it’s not that I am anti-gratitude or an outright unthankful b*tch, I just am not over-the-top-lets-be-grateful-every-second-of-the-day like my mother-in-law. I most definitely say thank you when appropriate, expected, needed or truly heart felt (like whenever you comment and I say thank you for reading!) And while I most definitely think grateful thoughts, like wow, I’m grateful the boys aren’t pummeling each other right now, or wow, I’m grateful my husband helps around the house, I don’t actively share those thoughts. Yes, I do embrace the importance of gratitude but sometimes I just want to say to my mother-in-law, “enough already with the gratitude! Can’t you say something that bothers you?”

I think I actually said that to her once. Or twice. And every time my ever so chipper, perfectly perfect and proper mother-in-law, said to me,

“Now Orange Rhino, you do know that practicing gratitude is one of the many keys to happiness don’t you? That otherwise you focus on the negatives and that just brings you down?”

“Yes.”

“Well good. Have you been writing in your Gratitude Journal? You know, you really should give it a try.”

And by that she means  the one she gave me within weeks of meeting for the first time, the one she gave me each Christmas, each Birthday, each opportunity. Yes, my darling mother-in-law has been pushing Gratitude journals on me since the first moment she could. At first I was touched. How sweet, she likes me enough to give me a gift. And then how sweet, she wants to share with me something personal in her life that works. Then it was, enough already do I seem THAT unhappy? And recently, when she finally stopped giving them to me it was DARNIT, where is the Gratitude Journal when I need one?

Because guess what. MY MOTHER-IN-LAW was right. Practicing gratitude and sharing those thoughts whether via a journal a blog or out loud does make me happier which in turn get this, KEEPS me from yelling. The whole practicing gratitude isn’t just the corny hogwash that I thought it was! When I talk about the positives in my life it keeps me focused on the good things, the happy moments which helps me feel lighter and obviously, happier. And a happy mommy = a less apt to yell mommy.

This became evidently clear during the great power outage of 2012, also known as Hurricane Sandy. Every moment I felt stressed or angry or annoyed I found myself saying “wow, it could be WORSE. I could have lost more than power, I could have lost my home. I am so lucky. I am so grateful our house is unharmed.” And that sense of gratitude helped me stay calm and get through the day. And then when I saw power trucks coming to New Jersey from all over, Massachusetts, Ohio, Pennsylvania, Washington DC, Indiana, Mississippi – my eyes filled with tears from gratitude and that kept me grounded and focusing on hope and that it would get better. And that got me through the day without being crotchety, without yelling.

I had always heard that gratitude was a powerful emotion from sources beyond my mother-in-law. I think I even recently read somewhere that it is scientifically proven to make people happier. I guess I didn’t realize just HOW powerful an emotion and a “non-yelling tool” it was until now. And hey, while I wish I had listened to my mother-in-law earlier, I am grateful that I at least learned the lesson now. Now is way better than never. I don’t expect to practice gratitude on the level of my mother-in-law, I just hope to practice it more. I just hope to share my thankful thoughts out loud more. And right now is as good as any time to practice

I am grateful for all 600 of you who read this blog and follow my challenge on Facebook. Your support keeps me going. Honestly. Thank you. Happy Thanksgiving! And to my non U.S. followers, Happy giving-me-reason-to-say-thanks!

287 days without yelling, 78 days of loving more to go!

Consider this blog post a PSA. Not a Public Service Announcement. Not a Politics Service Announcement but a Parents Service Announcement, about what I will not say, you’ll have to read to find out!  I hope you enjoy and learn something from my story, which warning is both gross and funny

*

My darling second son has always been fond of touching everything. And I mean everything. And that includes his bottom. Yes, his bottom, the inside of his bottom to be precise. This has been a problem since the moment he discovered that he could indeed, explore that part of his body. Now, I have heard that this is normal. So every night at bath time when he goes exploring I would gently remind him that it isn’t safe and he could hurt himself.

I always got the same answer. “Okay mommy. Sorry.”

But then there was one night back in October when the answer was different.

“But MOMMY. I simply HAVE TO put my finger up my butt.” (Really?!)

He was rather insistent so I clearly had to understand why it was so necessary.

“Something is stuck up there! I need to get it out.”

“Okay sweetie. Do you need to go the bathroom?”

“No. I need to put my finger up my butt.”

Lovely.

“Well no more sweetie. It’s not safe. Come on, time to brush your teeth.”

That conversation just did NOT settle with me that night. It just didn’t seem normal. So I called the pediatrician the next morning. With four young boys I call A LOT so let’s just say they know me pretty darn well!

“Hi Theresa (the nurse). It’s Mrs. Orange Rhino. Again. So here’s the thing. #2 (ha!) normally puts his finger in his bottom. Sorry, I don’t know how else to say it. Anyway, last night he insisted he had to get something out. Is this really normal?”

I heard my pediatrician chuckle in the back, clearly sharing my feelings of “wow, what will happen in this family next?!” and then clearly state to the nurse:

“No, this is not normal. Have him brought in immediately.”

I panicked. Really? What could it be? A tumor? Hemorrhoids?

We rushed in and my pediatrician took a swab of the area and left the room with a small smile on his face.

He returned with a large smile. Like I said, we know each other. He knows I have a sense of humor and can take the punches!

“So Mrs. Orange Rhino, the good news is that he has RECTAL STREP.”

“Huh! What? How does one…”

I couldn’t finish my sentence as #1 started chanting LOUDLY “Rectal strep. Rectal strep. You have rectal strep!” Can you blame him? It does kind of have a ring to it.

I was flabbergasted. I had never heard of it and had no idea how one would contract such a thing at this age. My pediatrician interjected my thoughts:

“The other good news is that it isn’t Worms. That would be really gross. No, this is only kind of gross, right? Just what you needed, right? More good news: antibiotics will get rid of it. He most likely had strep undetected and passed it below when wiping.”

“Okay. How long did he have it?”

“Well he had a pretty big colony in there. I’d say a few weeks. Maybe a month? You are actually REALLY lucky you caught it. Undetected strep can be dangerous to the body, including kidney problems.”

Well, well, well. I assumed my son was just being gross and difficult and stubborn about his butt exploration but no, he indeed had a problem. Good thing I called and then did further research that night. You know, search the web and pretend I am a doctor, type research. I discovered that it is actually contagious. And a light bulb went off.

#3 started potty trained in August. The last few weeks prior to his brother’s diagnosis he was having bowel accidents daily. I ASSUMED he was just regressing and not trying hard enough. When he said it hurt and he needed help I was frustrated. When he had an accident I got frustrated. When I realized SH*T he probably has rectal strep too because a symptom is hurtful bowel movements, I got frustrated.

I called the pediatrician.

“Hey, it’s me again! So #3 has the following symptoms…and #2 bathes with #3 and #4, should I bring them in?”

“Oh yes. Most definitely.”

And GUESS WHAT? We had a winner folks. #3 AND #4 also had rectal strep. As the doctor chuckled at my predicament (I now had three bottoms to lotion up twice a day and three kids to wrestle meds down, twice a day for 10 days) and wrote more prescriptions he said:

“Yeah, so probably a good idea to bring #1 in tomorrow.” (Ya think?!)

And GUESS WHAT?! Another winner. 4/4. The best part? #1 normally bathes separate but that week. THAT ONE WEEK he bathed with them once. Just once and voila. Rectal strep.

Only thing missing? The 4th bottle. Comical. Absolutely hilarious to me. I have a hard time remembering to give medicine to one child. Let alone 4. Of the same kind. How the heck would I keep it straight?!

As we were leaving the office, my 4 rectal strep boys and myself, I overheard an intern say to a doctor:

“Wow. You learn something new every day. I had NO IDEA rectal strep even existed.”

Hmm. That makes two of us sweetheart! But now we both know. And now I know, or rather have been forced to REMEMBER to never assume that my kids are wrong, or what they have to say doesn’t matter simply because they are kids or because they are frustrating me. I must give them the benefit of the doubt. They may just be RIGHT.

This was not the first time I made a bad assumption about my kids or dismissed what they said. It’s easy to dismiss their actions, to assume because they are younger and “just kids” that I am right and they are wrong. Oh so unfair (how would I feel if someone dismissed my feelings? Um. AWFUL.) I used to constantly jump to conclusions that they were up to no good and yell at them only to have them turn around and hand me a beautiful picture, or show me how they were cleaning up. Yup, I’ve yelled unnecessarily before and made an a*s out of myself but more so, hurt my kids feelings. Have you ever made an assumption about your children and yelled at them only to make an a*s out of yourself?

285 days without yelling, 80 days of loving more to go!

Dear Orange Rhinos,

I regret to inform you that my computer read my post last week and in sheer defiance decided to go kaput. So unfortunately for this week looks like I will be posting via phone again. Apologies! Anywho, here is a conversation I had with my hubby this morning. Based on the tone of my posts the content should come as no surprise, but hopefully you like it and find it useful (and funny!) I know I did at the time.

xoxo,
The Orange Rhino

*

280 days without yelling, 85 days of loving more to go!

Dear Dell,

I hate to inform you but having you back in my life after two weeks has proved to me that that you are indeed, a trigger for my desire to yell.  Bummer. I do love you. But I love my kids more so…I think you might need to go or at least go to a new location in my house. Permanently. Sigh. Separation will be hard but we can handle it. I know we can. We have to!

xoxo,
The Orange Rhino

*

Ever since we got power back my kids have been driving me nuts. Which is totally backwards right? One would think that without power – without easy access to TV and heat and food that the kids would have driven me nuts. But that wasn’t the case. Sure we had our moments when they did but as a whole, no, they didn’t bother me as much as I anticipated given all the chaos, uncertainty and um moodiness that I brought to the house. They actually did pretty gosh darn well. I will toot their rhino horns for them!

I keep asking myself why? How? How did I go so long under the circumstances and stay calm (besides the part that I have grown and changed since I started the Challenge and truly have less desire to yell now)? How did my boys go so long and stay so relatively calm? Especially given all their personal triggers?

This morning when I was on the computer AGAIN, and they were “annoying” me, AGAIN, a light bulb went off as to one of the reasons I was able to not yell the last two weeks. (Nice pun, eh?!)

I was completely utterly absorbed in people.com as I thought they were all playing nicely and that I could take a breather after the great cereal debacle of November 14, 2012. Then one kid started poking me asking me innocent questions. Then another started crying. And another started yelling. I turned abruptly from my computer screen and opened my mouth ready to scream “WHAT DO YOU WANT, LEAVE MY ALONE?!”

This is how I looked Monday (if I were blonde and looked like her, anyway) when my computer showed me a black screen. Again. Now if you turned the head away from the screen that is how I have acted for the past few days at least once an hour. sigh.

I was so beyond bothered to have been interrupted (a huge trigger).

I was so beyond bothered that my kids needed me, no WANTED ME. Really? REALLY!!! Writing that makes me cringe. I hadn’t felt that in two weeks and yet this week, since power came back on, I have felt it at least ten times a day. If not more.  And I really think my computer is largely to blame.

I was simply more engaged the last two weeks because I didn’t have a computer to run to for a break when I wanted one, or when I wanted to hide from the chaos by searching aimlessly on yahoo.com, people.com and facebook.com. Yes, I need breaks. Breaks are good. But I see now that I took them much too much when my computer was around. Because it was an easy escape.

Without a computer, there was no easy escape. I had no choice but to listen more attentively, to help resolve problems.  I couldn’t run from the madness by reading about The Bachelorette Jef and Emily. AND without a computer to entertain me, I had more opportunities to stop and play because what else was there to do? Without a computer I was “forced” to connect with my family first. Without a computer my kiddos remained my focus – I didn’t get distracted by the allure of the small portable black box that is actually a big black hole that sucks me in and doesn’t want to let me out.

Free of distraction, I was able to be more engaged and present with my boys which is exactly what I NEEDED to be. I needed to focus on helping them handle the situation anyway that I could. I needed to be focused on them to keep their behavior, and mine, in check with minimal meltdowns because the last thing I needed amidst all the insanity was an epic meltdown. What I didn’t need was to know if Emily was with Ari or not.

I liked myself better the last two weeks. I thoroughly enjoyed feeling less snappy and less bothered AND I thoroughly enjoyed hanging with my boys distraction free. All and all it was much more peaceful, fun, interesting and easy…EVEN under the circumstances!

So starting tonight, the computer is going UPSTAIRS, out of sight. It can no longer be the first thing I see when I walk in the door. Nope, I need to remove the temptation to escape to it when the going gets tough. I’ve tried but before but this time it is even more clear to me that the change is necessary, no not necessary, desired. It is going to be an adjustment. But it has to be done. I can do it. I have to do it.

Note: I am trying to move on from talking about no power as I am sure it is over done at this point! That said, if it isn’t and you do want to know about other lessons learned the last two weeks, let me know and I’ll share them!

260 days without yelling, 105 days of loving more to go!

Dear Hurricane Sandy,

Please blow over, no pun intended. I’ve been tracking you for days so that I can know what kind of problems you’ll bring, when to expect your wrath and what I need in order to handle the situation properly, or at least the best that I am able. All this tracking got me thinking back to the first days of this challenge when all I did was track. So while I know you are going to be a pain in my a*s the next few days I do thank you for inspiring tonight’s post and getting me to finally write it as it has been an idea lurking in my mind for months.

Cheers,
The Orange Rhino

*

The similarities to tracking a hurricane and tracking my triggers for yelling are pretty remarkable. I would track, track, track my triggers so that I could be prepared for my own storm path; so that I could know what problems would cause me to yell, when precisely I would yell, and what I needed to have in the future to be ready, mentally, in order to prevent major “storm” damage. Guess what? All the tracking? It really helped me prepare.

Yes, storms brewed in the early days. OH DID THEY EVER. I think I texted my friends five to seven times a day saying “I’m gonna lose it” and they would write back “No!! Don’t do it! You can hold it together!” But after a few days writing down all the times I yelled or wanted to yell, I saw patterns. I saw that I yelled at the same times of day. I saw that I yelled whenever I felt rushed. I saw that I yelled whenever I had my blackberry in hand, if I had just had a disagreement with my husband.

Were the findings discouraging? YES. Because there were a lot of areas of improvement and because there were a lot of findings that I never would have guessed, like how much a simple conversation about “weekend plans” with my hubby could put me in such a mood that I would yell at any child for no reason.

But just knowing the triggers, knowing that there were easy things I could now fix and yell less, like putting out snacks the night before, and knowing that there were things that I could personally CHANGE about me, well, you know what they say. Knowledge is power. This knowledge brought me clarity. It brought me a path. I don’t the technical, PhD. Study, formal rationale for why knowing a problem and labeling it makes it easier, but in this case, it did.

As I tracked more I found myself yelling less and texting my friends for support less.

Maybe it was as simple as seeing all the times I yelled on paper? Maybe that just was so ugly it really scared me and motivated me? (I know that works for me with weight loss – if I track what I eat for a week. WHOA NELLY. Suddenly I realize how bad I was and I get back on track.)

I don’t entirely know the answer for why tracking is such a powerful tool. Again, I am not a professional. I am just a mom trying to figure it all out. I don’t why tracking worked, but it did. It worked wonders – just like tracking and preparing for a Hurricane. I now know the storm is hitting tonight and I am prepared, as well as I can be. I have alcohol for after the long days (haha), I have caffeine for the long days (haha), I have canned goods, flashlights, water and more. I tracked, I got informed, and I am prepared. This storm will not take me by surprise and I am ready.

So tonight, in honor of Hurricane Sandy, I share with you my best attempt at a “professional” Trigger Tracking sheet. It is pretty close to what I wrote down and how I handle the information. I am a dork. These attachments will make that clear. But they helped me. They were integral to my figuring out how to stop yelling. Because once I looked at the “data” and could figure out a plan, I attacked each trigger one by one. And as I yelled less, I felt better. So I attacked 2 new triggers. And mastered those. And it just grew and grew and grew.

DOWNLOAD these two sheets below to see how I tracked my triggers and got on the path of not yelling!

Trigger Tracking Sheet Example (this is my best replica of what I wrote down in the beginning)

Trigger Tracking Sheet (a blank version if you want to print and try tracking yourself!)

258 days without yelling, 107 days of loving more!
Friday’s Favorite Song #2 

Dear Jason,

Thanks for writing this song. Whenever I hear it, even if intended for a girlfriend or something, I think of my son, of our relationship and am reminded not only to not give up, but more powerfully of just how deep my love for my son is. Even when the skies are rough. And let me tell you, my love for my son is deep. Sure he has thrown a thing or two at me, but it isn’t every day. He has phases – some days the skies are rough but most days they are beautiful. And when those days are beautiful they are as picture perfect as a sunrise. Look what my son drew on a peaceful, spur of the moment?

“A picture of a man walking on the beach at sunset.”

Or how about this flower, made orange just because of my blog?

Or how about that his favorite color is now orange, not red?

Yes, the skies can be rough, but they can also be breathtakingly beautiful. Beyond words. Because what comes with intense (negative) emotions are also intense positive emotions, like love and lots of it. My son loves me fiercely. His heart is bigger than what I imagined a kid’s to be. He has a grasp of empathy second to none.  And that is why I won’t give up on him, on us. Our love is too strong.

So thanks for the beautiful song; it’s touched my heart in a way you cannot imagine and that is why it is my Favorite Song this Friday.

Best,
The Orange Rhino

*
“I won’t give up” 
by Jason Mraz

When I look into your eyes
It’s like watching the night sky
Or a beautiful sunrise
Well there’s so much they hold
And just like them old stars
I see that you’ve come so far (you have my son, you have)
To be right where you are
How old is your soul?

I won’t give up on us (you and me kid, we can do this)
Even if the skies get rough
I’m giving you all my love
I’m still looking up

And when you’re needing your space
To do some navigating (to learn how to handle yourself, to grow)
I’ll be here patiently waiting (when you need help, I’ll be here)
To see what you find

‘Cause even the stars they burn
Some even fall to the earth
We’ve got a lot to learn (together, we’ll figure this out)
God knows we’re worth it
No, I won’t give up

I don’t wanna be someone who walks away so easily (and I won’t)
I’m here to stay and make the difference that I can make (however long it takes)
Our differences they do a lot to teach us how to use the tools and gifts
We got yeah we got a lot at stake
And in the end,
You’re still my friend at least we didn’t tend
For us to work we didn’t break, we didn’t burn
We had to learn, how to bend without the world caving in
I had to learn what I got, and what I’m not
And who I am

I won’t give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I’m giving you all my love
I’m still looking up
I’m still looking up

I won’t give up on us
God knows I’m tough, he knows
We got a lot to learn
God knows we’re worth it

I won’t give up on us
Even if the skies get rough
I’m giving you all my love
I’m still looking up…

Not sure what Favorite Song Friday is all about? Read here: You’re not Alone 

257 days without yelling, 108 days of loving more to go!

Dear Judgment,

Do not find my son or me after this post. Writing this was hard. I barely scratched the surface; I basically tip toed around the issues because I don’t want to write about them (too hard? too embarrassed?) and because I know you exist. I know that no matter what, you will sadly be put on my son and me. And I don’t want that, because our struggles right now are hard enough. I don’t need people thinking I am a bad parent or that he is a bad kid. Because he isn’t. He is a gift to me, to this world. He, just like all of us, has some struggles. So please go bestow yourself upon someone else, like a celebrity wearing a horrific dress.

Sincerely,
The Orange Rhino

*

I just can’t take it anymore.

I am trying so hard to be patient, to be understanding, to be loving, to be calm but I just can’t take it anymore. The defiance, the anger, the anxiety, the belligerence, the disrespect, the hitting, kicking, spitting, throwing, all the sh*t that comes with having sensory issues, all the sh*t that comes with being wonderfully emotional.

Any of it and all of it.

I can’t take another day of it.

Because it is hard, exhausting, demoralizing and heartbreaking.

I love my son, I really do. But right now, this moment, this day, this week, this MONTH I am so not in love with his behavior. Even though I understand the source of it, even though I have witnessed it all before and know that we have learned how to work through it, even though I know it isn’t intentional per say, but that it’s his way of saying “Mommy, I’m struggling and I need help” I still can’t take another day of it.

I know that my son doesn’t handle change well and that three major changes at once were an absolute attack on his system. I know that he is a perfectionist and that having to perform at school is an absolute attack on his system. I know that having three loud brothers running around him, testing his sensory issues, is a constant attack on his system. I know that mommy getting more and more frustrated with him is an attack on his system.

I know that in order to help him I need to not yell, to not raise my voice, to not hit him.

I know I need to show no response, positive or negative, that I just need to remain completely calm as he punches me in the face (accidentally or not). That I need to remain calm as he throws a scooter at me. That I need to remain calm as he says to me “I hate you so much I want to shoot you” or “I’m so angry I want to scratch my face until it bleeds.”

Yes, I know I need to remain calm, but right now, honestly, all I want to do is punch him back, throw the scooter back, scream at him “I HATE IT WHEN YOU ARE LIKE THIS!”

I hate when I can’t help you without worry of being hurt.
I hate when you scare me with your words, with your pain.
I hate that you are struggling so much and clearly want to stop the madness, but can’t.
I hate that no other parent seems to have a child like this, that I feel completely alone.
I hate that I am embarrassed by your behavior because people don’t understand you, us.
I hate that I understand your behavior because I have the same struggles.
I hate that I taught you to throw when angry, to yell nastily when angry.

I hate it all so much.

And yet I love you so much.

And that is what I hate the most.

Because right now, all I want do is find compassion and love and instead all I am finding is anger. Lots and lots of anger. And it is spilling into every aspect of my life. I am shorter and shorter with not just you, but your brothers. I am eating and eating and eating, trying to suffocate the anger which just makes me feel worse. And oh am I closer and closer to doing something a lot worse than yelling, something I would regret for the rest of my life (hitting him, that is).

I want to just grab my son in my arms and rock him like a baby. I want to just cry with him, to tell him that it will get easier, that the need to do something right the first time will ease up, that all the noise will soften, that the inability to stop a sensory attack once it starts will get easier.

But I can’t.

Because I am thirty something and I am still figuring it all out.

I can’t cry with my son and comfort him because I don’t know what to tell him except that I can’t take another day of it.

“It” being seeing him in pain and feeling such anger towards him.

I love him too much to have such anger towards him.

So today I will find compassion, no matter how hard I have to look for it because that is what he needs right now. I will stop judging him, his behavior, and start focusing on the wonderfully emotional and loving kid that he is. I will tell him that I will endure as many hard moments and hard days and hard months with him as I need to because I love him. And I will cry with him too and tell him it will get better, that as hard as it is I won’t give up on him, on us.

Tomorrow is Favorite Song Friday and the song I will share is a beautiful complement to this post and appropriately so will be dedicated to my son. Check back tomorrow for it! And thank you for not judging. 

256 days without yelling, 109 days of loving more to go

Dear Dr. Seuss…thanks for the inspiration!
~ The Orange Rhino

*

Every boy in OrangeRhino-ville liked Halloween a lot…
but their Mommy, a witch in October, did NOT!
Oh, their mommy hated Halloween! The whole Halloween season!
From the first costume catalog received to the last candy eaten!

She kept her boys from having any Halloween fun,
no she didn’t let them put up any decorations, not even one!
Please, mommy, a spider, a tombstone or maybe a ghost?
No she replied, how about pretty mums, at the most?

The kids tried to cheer her, encourage her, get her in the mood,
but sadly nothing seemed to change her oh-so-grinchy attitude.
Not even a “mommy, be an Orange Rhino, that’d be the coolest costume ever seen!”
could stop her from being hell bent on stealing the spirit of Halloween.

The mommy Witch usually had a big heart and loved all holidays,
but Halloween, no, that one simply filled her with dismay.
Was it the constant fighting over the catalogs to decide who to be,
or the constant “please can I be this super violent, totally tacky, ugly person, mommy?”

She liked to blame the time of the year for all her disdain,
claiming 4 birthday parties back to back drove her insane.
No more planning, extra excitement, or meltdowns galore,
No! I just need a break from extras, I can’t handle any more!

Adding to her misery was the one thing she didn’t know,
how to create a costume from scratch and then sew!
Her mother had made the best costumes on earth,
and now having to buy them only made this Witch question her worth!

What kind of mom am I that shops for costumes online?
And who always has to pay extra shipping to get them in time?
And what kind of mom tries to control what her kids wear?
Don’t I know before the photo opp the costumes will just tear?

Yes, this mommy Witch in OrangeRhino-ville was laden with all sorts of stress,
because even though her boys cared, she could care LESS.
As hard as she tried she couldn’t make Halloween hide,
so she was stuck, b*tching and moaning, as she went along for the ride.

Wizard of Oz theme 2010. I was Dorothy. It was beyond adorable.

To ease her suffering she tried to make them all dress in a theme,
but no, they were getting too old, they certainly didn’t want to look like a team!
Her visions of cuteness she simply had to let go,
it was time to accept that her boys were truly starting to grow.

Ah, the guilt, the fights, the silliness, the stress that came with Halloween,
they made this witch from OrangeRhino-ville mean, mean, mean!
Then one day she flew on her broomstick into Party City
where she saw a young boy and immediately took pity.

He was in a pile of tears on the floor, Star Wars costume clutched in his hand.
“NO you can’t be that!” the Witch heard the mom demand.
“But mommy I love it, I don’t care if there is no laser!”
“I don’t like it, it’s tacky” I said no way-ser!

Oh that is me, such an ugly, horrible site!
Thought the mommy Witch to herself as she shut her eyes tight.
A tear or two, or maybe even three, dripped down her face
as her heart filled with nothing but disgrace.

She tried to run but heard another discouraging chat,
“No you can’t be a Ninja, I simply don’t like that!”
“But mommy, it’s my costume, my turn to choose who I want to be,
You can’t always control me, let me be ME!”

The words stung for they were so incredibly true,
and at that moment the Witch knew just what to do.
She flew to the clerk and asked for three costumes to take:
a Dragon, a Transformer, and a Pirate named Jake.

Tacky costumes in hand she flew to the next aisle,
and grabbed decorations she knew would make her boys smile.
Some spider’s web, a skeleton and a flying, howling ghost,
she finally remembered the one thing about Halloween that she loved most.

It certainly wasn’t the carving of pumpkins or the Reese Peanut Butter cups in the bag,
and no it definitely wasn’t the costumes hanging pathetically still showing their tags.
It was greater, it was better. It was watching the costumes fill out,
as her sons jumped in them with joy and danced all about.

Yes, every time the costumes came to life
the Mommy Witch forgot about all her silly, silly Halloween strife.
She saw the joy in her sons’ eyes as they practiced saying boo,
and her love for her boys, just grew and grew and grew.

Our oldest at 3 weeks old. My husband’s brilliant idea. See? I am not the only one who looks for a photo opp!

www.facebook.com/TheOrangeRhino 

255 days without yelling, 110 days of loving more to go!

Dear Leaves,

I love you because I love watching you change to brilliant colors, I love racing to catch you falling from the sky, I love kicking you up in the air and giggling as you fall on me. Yes leaves, I love you and I love the fall. You make me feel like a kid all over. But more so, you make me STOP and enjoy the moment. Well this guest post by Jessica, also about a tree (albeit a different one) had a similar impact. It made me STOP and think about what I am teaching my kids. It made me stop and enjoy the moment – because it really was a quite thoughtful post. So thanks to both of you!

The Orange Rhino

To all readers, enjoy. And remember, share some love with our guest blogger. It takes courage to share!

*

Changing our Family Tree by Jessica Smith
www.longestdays.com

Oftentimes as parents we overhear our kids in their conversations and play and think to ourselves, “Ah, how cute.  They sound just like me.”  The other day that happened, but my response was not, “How cute”, but “Crap!  Rebecca sounds just like me.”

It started because she was irritated with her brother and sister.  She is 8 to their 4 and 2.  Most of the time they all get along, but as she gets older and they get into her things more and more her tolerance level for them has decreased.

Her books are HER books.  Her toys are HER toys.  Her hair accessories are HER hair accessories.  There is no room for sharing because she doesn’t want the younger two to break her older girl things.  Which I get, she is older and owns things that the smaller two just aren’t ready for.  What I don’t like is how she talks to them about it.

So the other day, I heard her with her teeth grinding together mutter, “Don’t touch my stuff.”  She said it as calm as possible but with as much malice as her 8 year old self could muster.  She was angry but trying not to sound angry.  Just. Like. Me.

I don’t mind when the kids emulate my good habits.  But when I hear them doing something that I don’t like about myself I cringe.  I feel terrible and guilty that I have been teaching them the wrong way to act.  That is when I realize how important it is for me to continue changing how I interact with the kids.

I have been in the process of becoming a less angry and therefore a less yelling parent over the past 3 ½ years.  I went into therapy because I didn’t like how I was handling my young kids.  I found myself really angry and short with them constantly and scaring them sometimes with my anger.  So I have worked through the things that trigger that anger and I have learned how to handle myself when I do find anger bubbling to the surface.

I know it is unrealistic for me to never yell ( agreed!), and I applaud the Orange Rhino for her efforts in NEVER yelling.  But I don’t need to make myself feel any guiltier than I already do for my parenting failures (agreed!), so when I find myself yelling I apologize.  Always.   Everytime.  Without fail.  Even if the kids deserved to be yelled at, I still apologize.  I am trying to separate my anger from their behavior.  I want them to see that while it is not OK to yell, if you do, there is always the grace to do better.

That is how I get through these challenging parenting years.  I know I am going to yell.  I know I am going to feel guilty for yelling, and I know how my yelling affects the kids.  Through my changes to my personal life, the kids are in turn learning how to handle that anger instead of bottling it up inside and then having it explode when they can’t keep it in any longer.  This is something I couldn’t do when I became a parent.

So, after the incident with Rebecca, my first response was to yell at her.  I stopped myself, called her over and asked what she was feeling and how she thought she could have handled it differently.  I got the typical responses like, “They shouldn’t touch my stuff.”  But it was a good opportunity to discuss what we CAN do when we are frustrated and what to do when we yell instead of working through the problem.

Things are changing in our house.  For every bad trait I hear replayed by my kids I will hear awesome ones like, “I am sorry for yelling (or hitting, scratching, etc.)  These will often come unprovoked by me and that makes me feel like the work I have been doing for myself is trickling down and changing our family tree.

I encourage all of you parents out there who feel guilty about the yelling to just start showing your kids how grace works.  That we mess up as parents, but we can always ask for forgiveness and understanding.  Then just take a step back and see how that seed grows in your kids’ lives.

254 days without yelling, 111 days of loving more to go!

Dear T.M.I.,

Did I just cross the line with this post? What can I say. It’s that time of month. I have P.M.S. big time and it takes over my ability to think rationally.

Not sincerely (because I don’t feel sincere or nice when I am suffering from P.M.S. I just feel grouchy and mean),

The Orange Rhino

P.S. My apologies in advance to male readers. I am not trying to offend you. Really.  

*

I remember being thirteen and seeing a button in Claire’s, the be all and end all of stores for teenage girls. The button read:

P.M.S. Putting up with Men’s Shit

I remember giggling and calling my girlfriends over from the tacky jewelry section to see the pearl of wisdom that I had found. Because you know at 13, after a mere few months of being in the womanhood club, not only was I cool enough to make jokes about PMS but I was cool enough to make jokes about boys being annoying. Because I understood them both perfectly. PMS and boys that is.

Fast forward 22 years. I am much wiser. Now I really understand both.

1)      P.M.S. only happens once a month, not weekly or daily, so it definitely does not stand for Putting up with Men’s Shit.

2)       P.M.S. actually means Pushing Me to Scream. Scientists and doctors and other professionals like to call it Pre-menstrual Syndrome. But that is too weak of a name. Pre-menstrual syndrome is too delicate, too polite, too nice. It doesn’t get at the heart of the matter, the intensity of what really happens to a woman during that blessed week each month.

Because, yes, 1 time a month, P.M.S makes me want to scream. The other three weeks a month I just want to yell. But that one lucky week a month when I am blessed with P.M.S I don’t want to just yell, I want to scream, scream, scream. Three weeks a month I have to work hard to not yell. But when I have PMS?

Oh. My. God.

I don’t think “working hard” begins to even describe my plight.

I have to practically hide from my kids to keep from yelling because every word sounds like a whine which this time of month sounds like fingernails on a chalkboard.

I “have to eat” to keep my mouth full of Oreo cookies, Tostitos, Cheez-its and other crap just so that I can’t yell.

I have to constantly put my head in the freezer to put the hot flashes at bay, to keep my temper cool.

I have to wear extra loose clothes so that the feeling of tight pants, tight shirts, and a tight bra don’t drive me batty and put me on edge.

I have to do jumping jacks what feels like every friggin’ second to keep my aggression in check.

I have to go to bed way earlier than I like because my normal exhaustion coupled with my P.M.S exhaustion leaves me a wretched, crotchety person.

UGH. Like I said, P.M.S. makes me want to scream, literally and figuratively.

I love that 22 years ago I thought I totally got P.M.S. HA! If only I knew what a horrific pain in the arse it was I wouldn’t have been making jokes about it; I’d be figuring out how to get rid of it.

I still don’t have the answers that work for me (in regards to P.M.S. or to Men) but I do know this. When I finally started circling on my calendar on the days I was at my worst, the days where I practically screamed, that days where my tolerance was negative, the days where I snapped way more than I liked, I realized that my worst days were always P.M.S days.

I kind of never thought of P.M.S as a trigger. I never really took P.M.S. seriously until recently. I don’t know why. Maybe because it has been a part of my life for so long that I have kind of accepted it? Maybe I thought I handled it better than I actually do? Maybe because my 4^th pregnancy played with my system enough that it made P.M.S. come alive more ferociously? Maybe because I didn’t want to admit that this trigger would be with me for years and years on end?

But oh, oh is it ever a trigger (professionals even say so, which “kind of” makes me feel better). And these last few days? I totally blame PMS. The good news? Figuring out and acknowledging that my PMS week is going to be a hard week has helped. Because I start the week mentally prepared for extra challenge, prepared that I am going to have to work harder and somehow that makes it easier. Not manageable, but easier.

Now if only I could figure out how to not stuff my face when P.M.S.ing (she writes as she reaches for more M&M’s).

How do you handle P.M.S.? Please share all secrets!! Does laughter do it? This worked momentarily for me. Check out this video. It’s brilliant.