| Subject: Re: Letters to Samson - 4 |
Author:
Holly
|
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
Date Posted: 19:30:43 06/27/05 Mon
In reply to:
Holly
's message, "Letters to Samson - 1" on 18:59:32 06/04/05 Sat
I really hate putting you in time out. God help me, I do. You don't know this yet, but I actually had to seek help - professional help - to bring myself to set limits for you.
You were about 11 months old and were so good at climbing tha, in the time it took me to jump a baby gate and grab a phone, you could climb up and into your high chair.
Scary. I have the videotape.
So, at that point in your development, setting limits meant taking you away from the dangerous thing or taking the dangerous thing away from you. Either made you furious. And I would freeze. Terrified that you would think I didn't love you.
Some stuff was easy. Take away one thing, hand you another, and I could slide by. But the climbing of the furniture that was too big to take to the basement (for awhile, we had no chairs upstairs)... there was just no distracting you from that.
So how does an insecure Mom teach her son to stay out of danger? I let you fall. Just kidding. Never. And the one time you did fall (almost a year later), I totally lost my blob. So, letting you fall was not an option. I'd freeze, then grab you and hug you while you protested and tickle and kiss until you smiled.
And climb the scary stuff and freak mommy out became a really fun game. You are soooo smart, my son, and there is nothing in my life I wouldn't give up just to hear this throaty chuckle you have. And your outright laugh is amazing. But the game just wasn't that fun for me.
So, I asked my very wise fairy godtherapist, and she explained that setting limits is an act of love that keeps you safe and also makes you feel secure and protected. She told me to say, "Danger!" when you approached it, pick you up, and put you somewhere else. If you went back, I should say danger again and consider strapping you into your high chair for some artwork or a snack.
It worked. Pretty well. One time you drew all over your foot with blue marker and shouted "A Clue! A CLUE!"
But then came the age of time outs. You don't get very many. You are truly an easy child, and you have a great disposition. You're even really good about taking the time out, except for a few raspberries here and there. And still, I hate giving them. I do not like to talk sternly to you. I hate my serious voice.
And the other day, when I walked away from the time out chair, I heard you sob, "She doesn't like me anymore!"
I wish there were some way to convey what it took for me not to end the time out right then and there, rush in, take you in my arms. I mean, we're talking comic book hero inner struggle. But then you would know forever how much I hate these things and WHY I hate them. And this time out was a serious one. You were going to get hurt if you didn't stop trying to balance on one leg of the step stool, and you would not stop no matter how many times I asked.
So... I cheated. I pushed the timer up so that you would hear it ding, and then I scooped you up.
And I told you I like you so much, I can't hold it inside of me. At least five giants high is how much I like you. And it's true. Except, they don't make enough giants to describe how much I like you.
I like being with you. I like the way you think. I like the way you make up knock knock jokes. I like watching tv with you. I like that The Giving Tree has been your favorite book for most of your life.
I'm writing this to you now, because I know the time will come, as you become your own person and separate more and more from your father and me, when we will struggle over limits where the stakes are much higher.
And you will get mad at me. And I may get mad at you. But you will probably know in your heart that I love you.
What you may not remember at the time is how very much I like you.
[
Next Thread |
Previous Thread |
Next Message |
Previous Message
]
| |
Feedback: 