I yelled at the kiddo the other day. It was an epic TWO-HOUR battle over eating, and I reached my I-can't-say-eat-your-food-one-more-time-without-screaming point. I immediately felt terrible and the kiddo's tears took a long time to subside. Not my best mommying moment. Even though we both eventually calmed down, I was still faced with the knowledge that screaming didn't solve the underlying problem. It never does. 

I needed a better strategy. I needed to divine a plan. I needed to think about better, non-screaming contingencies ahead of time. After turning to my friend Google for some "help my 4-year-old won't eat" soul-searching, I felt gratified when I stumbled across research from Harvard psychologists that supported my instinct to be proactive. The researchers write about the want/should conflict. With regard to my dilemma, when in the heat of a dinnertime battle, what I may want to do is scream like the boiling mommy teapot that I am, whereas what I should do is something a tad more positive (I'll get to that). According to the author of the A Kind Parent blog, the key to making optimal should choices rather than suboptimal want choices is to plan ahead. 

Sounds easy, right? So how do we actually plan ahead in a way that will cool us down when kid antics make things get heated? Lucky for all us feeling the mommy guilt, I came up with an quick and easy worksheet to help us work through the process. Check it out, and click on the image to download! 

Step Three. Google That Sh*t. I view the internet as an amazing crowdsourcing resource when it comes to parenting. I'm not saying that everyone is right, but there are a lot of people out there spilling ink on how to raise kids, and reading a variety of viewpoints is kind of like a brainstorming sesh with you at the helm. 

Step Four. After you read all the tubes, write down the ideas that stick out to you as ones that seem pretty good. It's even better if people who support the idea write about it in actual publications, and not just in the comments under GIFS of toddlers gorging/bathing in spaghetti. For my problem, the solutions that stand out are meal routines and fixed expectations. 

Step Five. Look around. Is anyone else responsible for raising children with you? If so, politely ask them to do steps 1-4.

Step Six. Talk to your parenting partner. 

Step Seven. Listen to your gut. What do you think is a workable solution for you and your fam? 

Step Eight. Come up with your plan. Be specific. What are you going to do the next time your kid has their finger on the detonator button?
This is what we came up with to avert future mealtime crises - we will eat our food at the dining room table. The kiddo has to at least try all of her food. If she doesn't like it, she doesn't have to finish it as long as she gave trying it a good faith effort.  When we finish our food, we set a timer for 15 minutes. We then accompany the kiddo at the table for those 15 minutes. If she feels full before eating all of her food, she can tell us that and ask to be excused. If there is still food on her plate when the 15 minutes is over, we clear the table. At any point in the evening, if she says that she's hungry, she can have her leftover dinner food back. Dessert is a sometime treat when A) it's available; and B) we think she did a good job of focusing on eating her dinner.

Step Nine. Come up with your contingency for what to do if the plan doesn't work. For my part, if my dinner plan starts falling apart at the seams, I'm going to walk away. I'm not going to say "eat your dinner" again. She'll eat when she's hungry. My job is to make food available and accessible, not to nag her. Of course, my plan isn't set in stone forever and ever. The second part of my contingency plan is to be flexible. Revisit and revise until we find a happy dinnertime equilibrium. 

Step Ten. Pat yourself on the back for being awesome. Parenting isn't always a win. It's trial and error, and occasionally stumbling on something that works. The key to being a great parent is putting forth effort, and if you're trying to take steps toward more positive parenting, then you're doing an A+ job already. Keep it up, and keep this worksheet handy. True, this is based on a n of 1, but let me tell you... for the last week this kid has been ROCKING mealtime. And we are loving eating together again. 

A while back, I said that I was on a quest to use what I have or kick the excess stuff to the curb. My last project was my lace doily table runner (See left. And, now that I mention it, I should totally put it back on the table). I'm still stoked at how the runner turned out, and I love that it honors the hard work of one of my foremothers. It's been six-ish months since the last project, and I still have plenty of stuff that I can repurpose or ditch. I decided to turn my eyes on a sad and forlorn torn paper lamp shade, and to snazzy it up with something out of my "too much stuff" files. 

That tear right there is what a paper shade looks like after you stick a vacuum cleaner attachment through it. FYI, in case you were wondering. So, now to talk about what I used to fix my oopsie. (Another aside... ripping a paper lamp shade off is kinda gratifying. If you have one lying around and want to do this project, wait until you get really frustrated with something, and then have at it). Some time ago, I started collecting linen calendars. No reason why, but I have always found them to be quaint and homey and cozy and comfy. I have many, many calendars, but here are the three that I chose for this project. 

Emme's go-to reaction these days for any kind of direction or discipline is, "soooooooooorrrrry!" She apologizes when we tell her not to suck her thumb; when we ask her to put away her toys; when we tell her to eat; when we tell her to turn left, not right. You get the picture. Her sorry-ful nature has me troubled for a couple of reasons. First, those apologies aren't genuine, and that's obviously problematic. She's using "sorry" as a crutch to get away with things or to not listen.

But the second and bigger issue for me (and Mike) is that she is exhibiting what I call sorry girl behavior. Women tend to internalize "sorry" to the point that we spout it out like second nature. "Sorry" is an extension of the lessons society teaches women to not take up too much space, to not speak our minds, and to not exert our authority. Absent-mindedly communicating "sorry" as a polite way to express sympathy with another person's misfortune means that women find ourselves perpetually in a pitiable state. That's not a good thing. 

I want to raise a polite child so that she grows up to be a polite adult. There is too much uncivil behavior in the world, which inevitably leads to too many desires to punch other people in the face. But there's a difference between being empathetic and polite and being a sorry sack of apologies. Teaching the subtleties of being nice without falling into the trope of raising a "nice girl" ain't easy. 

Here's our current strategy: the only reason to say "I'm sorry" is in response to causing actual damage or harm to another person or their property. 

If the kiddo stomps on my toe (i.e., hurts me) because she's not paying attention to the world around her, "I'm sorry" is an appropriate response. If she spills milk on my book (i.e., damages my property), she can apologize away. If we tell her to go upstairs and she doesn't, that's not a cause for sorrow. The better response is merely "ok," and then to follow instructions. Ditto for not turning off the TV after PAW Patrol ends, for leaving her toys cluttered on the coffee table, for being slow to brush her teeth at night. Those are personal responsibility issues, not circumstances of sympathy with another's distress. 

A big part of the reason why this concept is so hard to teach is not really the abstract nature of sympathy, but rather because I am GUILTY AS CHARGED. I say "I'm sorry" for everything. A few minutes ago, I inadvertently apologized because the internet is sluggish today. If someone tells me they got hung up at the DMV, I'll usually say I'm sorry. But the kicker is that I'm not - I'm not sorry. I am deferring to a filler word because I'm too lazy to come up with the right ones. For the internet situation, I should say, "Please hang on a second - the internet is slow today." Those words acknowledge not only the inconvenience of waiting, but also the fact that I'm not actually the one clogging up the intertubes. For the DMV convo, I should say, "Ugh - that's frustrating. I hope that they were able to help you without too much of a wait." That statement identifies and sympathizes with the other person's discomfort in a much more meaningful and precise way. 

I doubt that our current parenting strategy is the be all and end all of sorry girl language elimination. We'll see after I try to live by the rule myself. I'm hoping that at the very least we'll recoup benefits from being conscious of our language choices (communication FTW!). I know that the kiddo models her behavior to some degree after what she sees me do. She needs to hear me say "I'm sorry" less, and I'm going to do my best to use better language that doesn't short-circuit my prerogative to move about the world unburdened with sorrow. And if I mess up, I won't be sorry about it. I'll simply resolve to do better, and move on.

Weird title for an after-Christmas/after-New Year's blog post, right? Well, as I mentioned in my last post, I love after-Christmas bargain shopping. This year I hit up Michael's, and stocked up on some cheap-irific Deco Mesh with the intention on creating a front porch Christmas tree whimsical bonanza. Or something like that. Consider this a tutorial in case you too bought some craft supplies at a deep discount. You'll thank yourself next Christmas, I promise.

[Side note: Sometimes bloggers DIY in their really pretty home studios. Sometimes they edit their pictures. Sometimes they manipulate stuff to create the allure of a highly styled publication. I don't do those things (except add snow to my pictures. Snow makes everything look prettier). All of the following pictures were taken in my post-Christmas-almost-post-apocalyptic dining room. It was and is still a gigantic mess. But I did have a super cute helper!]

Step 2. Jam the tomato cage into your urn, and tie the top pieces together with some twine-ish/wire-ish stuff. ​

 Step 5. Decorate, and voila! (Photo was edited to add snow, 'cause whimsy.)

Step 6. Store the tree in your basement, attic or garage until next year.
​You'll see it, smile and say, "Oh Yeah!" and then feel the merriment seeping into your veins. It'll be legend... wait for it! ... dary! Happy new year friends!