Taking it Slow

This week I discovered the power of slowing things down when dealing with my (almost) two- year-old. He had fallen into a pattern of having several meltdowns a day. My husband and I have made a pact with each other that we will not use the term "Terrible Twos" or "Tantrums". However, I highly suspect that his behavior is the latter as a result of the former. I felt desperate and worn out. I had zero patience left at the end of each day, and heaven forbid Corey would get off work late. Carrick is like a puppy who gets restless around the time his master is about to come home. Carrick knows, he's got a clock built into his framework somewhere...

So, at the end of each day for the past couple weeks (since Corey came home from his business trip) I have had to get creative and proactive as a parent. One of the most miraculous things that has been both interesting to Carrick and a healthy activity for me was taking an evening stroll around the neighborhood. Sounds simple, doesn't it? Well, I thought I'd state the obvious because parents don't always see the easy thing right in front of them. They get stranded in the "living in the moment" frame of mind that is so demanded upon them from their children. Yes, acting excited, getting our coats and shoes on, filling up water bottles, and the best part, asking Carrick to climb into the stroller all by himself were all a part of getting him to think about something else besides waiting for daddy to get home. Not only did the walks get us out of the house, but they gave me a chance to clear my mind and rejuvenate after a day of monitoring the safety of another human being, as well as get some mild exercise in.

Now, here comes the zinger: taking it slow. Once we actually got out on the sidewalk, I made a point to stop if Carrick caught sight of something he wanted to investigate further. I began with dogs. Frequently on our evening walks, others are out with their canine companions, enjoying the shadows and cooler temperatures. With each dog we saw, Carrick would start panting heavily and pointing with vigor. "Yes! I see the doggy, Carrick. Do you want to say hi to the doggy?" Most of the time the folks with dogs were more than happy to share their furry friends for a minute or two and let Carrick pet them from his stroller.

Then came the flowers. Carrick learned the word for flower many months ago. It was one of his first words. On our evening walks, he's closer to the ground and moving slower than in a car and has a chance to point out various flowers. I always stop and pluck one for him to hold and examine whenever he points and says, "Pwah-wah!" Yesterday, we stopped and picked all kinds of different flowers that were fuzzy. Some of them he could blow away, some were like paint brushes. But with each one, I would show him how to feel it, and what it did that was special, like float when he blows on it. Sometimes I get flowers of different colors and name the colors. Other times I pull leaves off of trees. The point is, I stop, I acknowledge what he's observing and encourage his exploration of the world. I slow down. Where else to we have to go besides home?

The biggest realization I had recently about slowing down was just a couple days ago after Corey returned home from work. It was later in the evening, and I needed to start getting ready for bed. Carrick only wanted to sit on my lap and pretend nurse. (That's what I call it when he doesn't really nurse, but uses it as a pacifier of sorts.) I was not in the mood to postpone getting ready for bed because of pretend nursing. I got frustrated and said rather quickly, "here, go see daddy," as I handed him over to Corey. He burst into tears, unable to understand that I needed to do other things and his need wasn't being met. I took him back onto my lap and took a deep breath. I hugged him and said, "It's all right, honey. Mommy just needs to get ready for bed. Mommy is going to take a shower, take her makeup off, and brush her teeth. Would it be okay if you played with daddy for a few minutes?" He shook his head "no". Then daddy said, "Carrick, can I have kisses?" and Carrick leaned over to Corey and gave him a sweet little kiss, and a hug. Then as Corey hugged him back, I left the couch and got ready for bed.

I had to slow it all down. The transition was too abrupt for the little guy. (Whenever applicable) I slow down my speech, my thoughts, my process and let him in on what's going on. This has helped me not have so many freakout times. I read in a book recently that toddlers don't have a sense of time. They don't know the difference between five minutes and one hour. Their sense of time comes from routine. So, when someone just says arbitrarily, "It's time to go bye-bye", picks them up and walks out the door, the toddler might have a meltdown. But, slowing it down, and doing things that lead up to bye-bye can help them cue in to what's actually going on.

"Hey, where are your shoes? Can you get your shoes? Now let's put on a coat because, brrr! it's cold outside. What about a hat? Do you need a hat? Okay, let's go bye-bye! Can you say bye-bye to everyone?"

"Bye-bye"