I wish I had someone to high-5

My journey as a mother has been challenging. What's that? You too? I would wager that you, the average non-me mother, has challenges that are based on understanding developmental stages, learning to let go as your child matures and needs you less and less, and the fact that you no longer are the center of your own universe.

Me? My challenge is that having a child made me realize that I am completely, hopelessly inflexible. The term black-and-white doesn't begin to describe my personality. Monuments - to paraphrase a line from House - could be built to honor my rigidity. Oh, and I can no longer sugar-coat this flaw as charming. Am I belief-driven and principled? Try judgmental. Am I sure of myself? More like arrogant. When given the opportunity to talk about child-rearing, or to make decision about my kids, I am RIGHT. You make think you feel that way too, but let me correct you. I am way more right than you are.

The problem comes in when I realize that a step taken or decision made is actually bad for one of the girls. 'No snacks in between meals' is an easy rule because my girls won't eat a good meal if they snack, and it's hard enough to get them to eat what I put in front of them at mealtime. Should they eat a little less a little more often? Probably, but I do not sweat this one.

Now, on the other hand, my penchant for using negative reinforcement has recently become an Issue. J and I seem to have gotten in a pattern of attention-getting bad behavior on her part, followed by angry eruption and punishment dissemination on mine. A stage? Perhaps. But it has been going on for months, and has escalated from a once-a-week event into a multiple-times-daily one.

I have tried a few changes in my own behavior to tone down the fire on my side of the equation (thanks in no small part to some very loving and well-timed feedback from JBL), and I will dissect their efficacy for our collective benefit once they've had time to play out a bit. In the meantime, I have had one notable success that seems to have stuck. It's something I like to call The Brave Hat.

J has developed a substantial list of things that frighten her over the past few months, and I understand this is quite normal for her age. I have had little trouble assuaging most of these random fears. Take the stuffed animal unicorn with the strangely life-like eyes out of your room at bedtime? Absolutely, no problem. Prior to our recent trip via airplane to Atlanta, discuss why planes don't melt as they get high in the sky/closer to the sun (thanks for nothing, Eric Carle)? I'm happy to talk about it until you're well at ease.

I am challenged, however, when her reactions seems wholly disproportionate to the potential danger presented. This past weekend, J suddenly developed an irrational fear of bees. This is quite unlike her, and at first I mistook her reaction as a red herring for something else, like wanting K to be with her at all times. "I won't go outside because of the BEEEEEEEEES!" she cried after I suggested a bike ride might be in order. "I can't because of the BEEEEEEES!" she lamented when I asked her to pick up her toys by the garage. In my usual loving fashion, I encouraged her with, "Look. Just GO PICK UP YOUR TOYS. I have asked you 3 times. I won't ask again. NOW." I was rewarded with J dissolving into a puddle of sobs before she attached herself to my legs with her fingernails. Hmmm, I thought. Maybe she's not bluffing.

I took a deep breath, detached her from my person, and held her til the sobbing subsided. Then I calmly explained to J about why bees sting, and how they are really afraid of her because she is so much bigger than they are. There. Logic trumps fear! Right? Can I go back to my magazine on the patio sofa? WRONG. I begin to walk her around the house, holding her hand and talking softly. A carpenter bee swerves drunkenly up to her before heading off to the deck now behind us, and J literally jumps 2 feet in the air, letting out a shriek of fear, the likes of which I have never heard before. All distractions fall away from my mind and I feel the Mother Instinct kick in for once. After another minute of hugging the sobs away, I offer, "You don't need to be afraid once you put on your Brave Hat."

"What?"

"Your Brave Hat. When you put it on it makes you feel brave. Really! Here. Look at mine." I mime putting on a winter-type cap. "Mine is pink and fuzzy and has big ears on it. Ahhh," I conclude with a calm and brave-appearing sigh. "What does yours have on it?"

Tick...tick...tick...

J pulls on her own pretend cap. "Mine has big googly eyes on springs!"

[insert thankful sigh here]

"See now, you can be brave! I knew you could do it!" I grabbed her hand and led her, still somewhat hesitant, over to the garage to clean up the toys from earlier in the day. She jumped a bit as a fly whizzed nearby, but she actually paused, took a deep breath, and adjusted that damn pretend hat.

Later when Sadie stopped by to play, J offered, "You don't have to be afraid. You can just put on your Brave Hat!" I watched them scamper off, and basically had to hold back tears of gratitude for all the moms I know who inspired such an idea with their own demonstrations of patience, kindness and understanding. I don't know if I can continue to think outside my own box of precision and structure, but I will sure try. Maybe there's a hat for flexibility. Let me know if you've seen one...