Pushing the Limits

My darling boy is pushing my buttons lately. Crying at the drop of a hat to get his way, bossing me around like a servant (or the kid brother he doesn’t have) - he’s really found his stride in this realm of “winning” over his Mom.

And hey, how can you blame him? I give in. I “use my words” and try really really hard to not throw fits right back at him. I negotiate and bargain to keep the peace. Because he demands that I do, I hold his hand all the way to the bathroom, pull down his pants, sit his butt on the toilet, help him down, re-pants him and stand over him while he washes his hands. And I know darn well that he can do all of this himself because he does it at school.

I’m trying so hard to be an accepting, loving, patient parent, but right now I’m just being a doormat. But I’m trying to work on this by shifting my awareness from the behavior (which makes me want to wring his neck) to the need (which typically touches my heart and reminds me of why I don’t actually wring his neck).

I ask: What is he really wanting and what is he really needing right now?

Sometimes I think he plain old wants to be served. Find his toy so he doesn’t have to look. Though I can’t blame him for trying, that B.S. has got to stop! I think of my own childhood and a few choice phrases from my dad, particularly, “Is your arm broken?” when we asked for help with something we were entirely capable of doing for ourselves. This morning, I just let him cry until he got tired of it and moved on to a toy that was within reach (instead of the one on the other side of the room that I wouldn’t go get for him). No one incurred any serious mental or emotional damage, and the whole thing was over in about a minute. That worked okay. I’ll keep trying that.

But sometimes, there is a more important motivator, I think. Like this crazy new thing he’s doing at mealtimes – wanting me to take the same bites he does and not eat faster than him. Do you know how slow a three-year-old eats? It’s really slow. So, I inevitably eat faster, and bring down the wrath of Casey. The tears. The wailing. The non-breathing crying thing that makes his face go red-purple. Why does he do this? I think it’s because he doesn’t want to get left at the table (which sometimes happens at breakfast when we are trying to get out the door to school and work), or doesn’t want to get left out of the dinner table action in general (which also sometimes happens when Mom and Dad are talking about grown-up stuff and not talking to Casey). So what can I do about this one? Reassure him that we will stay until everyone is done. Include him in the conversation. Crack a few jokes to lighten the mood. That seems to work okay. I’ll keep trying that.

Then there is the bossiness. The interupting. The please-read-this-book-to-me-but-then-I’m-going-to-goof-around-and-not-listen-but-lose-my-mind-if-Mom-even-tries-to-skip-a-page-or-put-the-book-down thing that he did tonight at bedtime. What is the need underneath the madness? I’m thinking this behavior is about needing boundaries. Needing limits. That’s why he’s pushing them, right? So I tell him that I won’t read if he’s going to be disrespectful to me and boss me around. That if he acts like the big boy that he is, there will be more stories. If not – straight to bed. And what do you know, he sat still, listened to the story, got his teeth brushed and earned one more story before bedtime. That worked okay. I’ll keep trying that.

Keep trying. Don’t give up. Stay present. Take a deep breath.

All lessons I can both teach and learn by being an accepting, loving, patient parent who sets boundaries and expectations for her son.