be consistent

When my son was a baby, I still worked full-time.  I found a wonderful care-giver, who we called “Miss Pat.”   After my 3 month maternity leave was over, I took him to her house  where she watched 4 other babies – all under 18 months old.  After 18 months, they “graduated” and were cared for by her neighbor (coincidentally, also a “Miss Pat”).

In Miss Pat’s house the living room was the only place the babies were allowed to go on their own steam.  She could carry them down the hall and put them in a crib for a nap, but they didn’t crawl down the hall on their own.  They stopped at the doorway.

Her living room, which was carpeted, opened up into her kitchen, which was tiled.  When she was in the kitchen, the babies would line up on the edge of the carpet, but never crawl onto the tile.

I was amazed.  Babies less than 18 months old.  Only crawling where they were allowed – the only “baby proofed” room in the house.  How in the world did those babies know?   I had to ask.  She said, “I’m consistent.”

“What?”

She said, “When these little ones start to crawl, and they start over the edges of the living room, I pick them up and put them back.”

“That’s it?”

“Well, I don’t just do it once, honey.  I do it about a hundred times a day for at least a week, maybe two.  After being put back in the living room that many times, the babies get tired of it and spend their time playing instead of trying to get into the kitchen.”

Miss Pat taught me a lot, but this was key:  “Training a child is exhausting.”

But worth it.

Today, my son is 12 and my daughter is almost 7.  She has a habit of crying when things don’t go her way.  It is so tempting to give in.  When I’m tired and she’s tired and she’s crying and I feel like joining her . . . I don’t.  I have this thing I say, which sometimes infuriates her, sometimes works like a charm:

“Solve your problem.”

Sounds easy to say, right?  I don’t just say it once, honey.  I say it about a hundred times a day and it’s been WAY longer than a few weeks and sometimes she still cries when something doesn’t go her way.  The difference is that she doesn’t do it as often as she used to.  More importantly, she doesn’t do it as often as she would if I sometimes gave her what she wanted when she cries.

It is the simplest advice.  But it is exhausting.  It tests your patience to the furthest limit.  But if you give in – even once – that seed is planted “I wonder if she’ll give in this time?”

Don’t do it.  Decide what’s important and then be strong.

Be consistent.

just journal, even if it’s just one sentence.

Life goes by FAST. I’m so busy living it, I forget how fast. If I’m not careful, I can spend so much time trying to check things off my computerized (and nagging internal) to do list that I can arrive at the end of the day without having even one non-task related thought. For me,

Journaling slows things down. When I write, I think. I need to think. About things other than deadlines, carpool, permission slips, doctor appointments, haircuts, cats with diarrhea, groceries, vacuuming . . . there goes that internal to do list again. I need to reflect and I can’t see my reflection in the swimming pool if I’m always scooping leaves off the surface. Journaling is a float and a cool drink. The leaves can wait for ten freaking minutes.

Journaling reminds me of the past. Recorded data points help me make conscious, intentional (and, hopefully, better) choices today. I can avoid repeats of negative situations if I can remember what got me into a mess in the first place. When I write about a successful outcome, sometimes I can identify what I did and do it again. I can learn from both my losses and my wins. But only if I remember them.

Journaling captures memories. When my son or daughter (or husband, or friend, or parent or sibling) says something funny or profound, I think I’ll always remember it. Yeahhhh. No. When I jot it down, not only do I always remember it, but my children can as well. Some of my journal entries are a simple quote, with a date. Reading that one little sentence, the memory floods back. And when I read it, I’m so thankful I took the time. Such a simple thing, such a priceless reward.

Journaling helps me figure out my goals. When I journal, I can’t help but think about what is important to me. I can start an entry blabbering about all the stuff I have to do and how stressed I am and by the time I’m finished I realize which of those things are counter-productive to the life I really want to live. It becomes glaringly obvious which items on my plate I should never have cooked up in the first place. It’s also a reminder to to hold my hand over the plate and say “No, thank you.” the next time someone else wants to dish out some more. It reminds me to yank the plate away and say, “I said, no.” when someone tries to put stuff on my plate anyway.

Journaling is more convenient and much less expensive than therapy. I can journal anytime I want, not just on a Tuesday morning at 10:00 (or whatever time my weekly appointment would be.) If something (or someone) triggers anger or melancholy or any other reaction commonly addressed during therapy, I can write about it, and discover as the words land on paper, something I hadn’t considered before – either about me or another person or a situation. Journaling leads me to understanding, calmness, tolerance, choices. So much more.

I’m sure journaling has countless benefits in addition to the ones I’ve mentioned here, probably many I’ve never even considered. But these few are enough motivation for me to stop.

In the middle of the rushing forward, I have the power to stop time. So do you.

Wield it.