Remembering Joy on the battlefield

This morning was tough.
My 8 year old daughter A is so smart and thoughtful. She thinks about people far and wide, discussing the merits of laws and noting cultural differences between nations.
She is also very sensitive, just like I was at her age. I see how deeply she struggles just to navigate her own internal chaos.

My ten-year-old daughter M is on the edge of puberty, her hormones rising and falling.
She is so conscious of herself, her friendships, and how she is perceived. She is learning how to make change in her world, and we are trying to teach her the art of negotiation. Right now her tactics tend to be on the whiny, teary, demanding side.

We also host an exchange student, Z, from China, who observes our interactions from the perspective of her youth. She is 16, raised as a single child in a family that emphasized schooling and academics. Emotions don't seem to have been on her curriculum. It seems her parents and teachers used rather strict forms of discipline, and not much processing of feelings. I admit, the whole processing of feelings things is double in this home - both from the American custom, and from having a therapist as a mom.

When I'm not with them, my goal and my duty is to absorb all the goodness, all of the flow, all of the evidence that energy is always moving through me. My job is to stay connected to myself, to the Earth, to the divine, so that when we have mornings like these I'm calm, centered and grounded.

The morning started with M, my older daughter, sitting on her bedroom floor not getting ready because she was listening to some silly story on the radio. Now, she knows that she is responsible, as a 5th grader, to get herself up and moving, dressed, have breakfast, make lunch, and be ready to walk out the door to carpool at 7:30.

She has complained that an hour isn't long enough - I can understand that. The alarm gives  her plenty of time to wake up but she doesn't actually get up until I come and remind her of the time. She is learning independence,  so I've been backing off of waking her. I'm learning to let her deal with her own frustration about passing time.

This time M, with 30 minutes left to prepare, stood in the doorway of her sister's room and tried to argue with me about how she really needs Lunchables. She gave every argument:
"It's convenient! It's quick! It's disposable! All my friends have them! Come on, Mom, I don't want to be the only kid who has to eat healthy food! I don't want to be the healthy one! None of my friends are! I'm just going to eat their food anyway."
Oh, how I remember having this exact same conversation with my mother. It's because of mom's tenacity that I pass on the same values of healthy food and eco-friendly lunches. Meanwhile M's precious time is ticking away.

My 8 year old does a pretty good job of ignoring M, but I know she's absorbing every tactic.  How I deal with M shapes how A will act in the future. I have to stay calm, have to stay connected.
I breathe deeply, and with each passing moment reconnect myself with my own energy, with the Earth, with the divine. Really this seems the best thing to  do. I see this as my ultimate goal as a mom - to be stable and calm and model how to stay connected as my children navigate their own emotional chaos on the hormone roller coaster.
By this time breakfast is happening. A  wanted a smoothie and M graciously made it for her. What a terrible thing! Oh my Heavens, to have your sister create you a breakfast! How awful! A fresh strawberry smoothie with Organic yogurt went right down the drain.
M continued her pleas for the coveted Lunchables. Meanwhile 15 minutes left - how will this drama continue? I stay calm,  reminding myself "this is not about me."
A hatches another breakfast plan, cooking rice and eggs.
The sound of M's blender echoes through the kitchen and A runs out. "It's all her fault! I can't have breakfast because of M!"
M retaliates, "and I can't have lunch because of you, Mom. I'm gonna starve and it's all your fault."
When emotions run this high, there is no conversation happening. The thinking brain is disconnected, and the ears will hear only through the filter of their own emotion. Anything I say will add to their internal fire.
I stay present. I listen. I breathe. This is my gift to my children - I will not argue, and I also will not appease. I will not accept the blame, either. I do speak up for myself. I calmly say, to no one in particular, "You are in charge of your behaviors. It's okay to feel angry. You are not responsible for other people's reactions and I am not responsible for yours." They have heard this before.

Z is watching this intently.  She sits at the table with her shoulders hunched. She has shared that she was hit for such behavior as a child. I imagine she is thinking, "I'm just going to sit here very quietly and try not to get in between the two tigers."

I put my hand on Z's shoulder. "Good morning, Z. I'm sorry you have to hear such loud angry voices this morning. Please allow yourself to have a good day."

My amazingly smart and mature 8 year old pulls out a box of cereal (breakfast #3) and dumps it out on the table.  She throws a pen at M's face. She wants me to engage her - she really wants to fight. I'm not going to play into her game. "you'll have your consequences for your actions." Calm, breathe, stay connected.

"Fine, I'm not having anything for breakfast!
"You're not ready for school if you're not fed. Your brain needs fuel."
"What?!" again, this is a repeated conversation.  "I can't eat anything it's all my sister's fault!"
Silence, breath, calm.
"Fine, I'll eat  a little rice."
I don't even have to engage - A has the argument with herself. M finally sees the time and pulls together a healthy lunch. She dashes out the door to catch her carpool - no reminder from me.

A eats half the rice and eggs, and says quietly. "I feel ready for school and ready to learn." Frown, stomp.
She really wants me to fight.  I'm  still not going to join in her drama.
"You never listen to me! I'm trying to talk to you and you never listen!"
I breathe. "I hear your frustration. I'm ready when you are."
She grabs her coat. "I'm going on my own!" She ran out with her backpack. I calmly walk behind her, where she was sitting on the front step. I know she's not ready to walk alone.
We continue walking to school, and she says, "Sorry, Mom."
I put my hand on her little shoulder.  "Thank you, I appreciate that.
A stares at me "Aren't you going to say anything else?"
"Are you wanting me to say it's okay? Because it isn't okay. I appreciate your apology and I'm glad that you can reflect on your own behavior. We'll figure out how you can repair the relationship when you get home this afternoon."
"But it's all my sister's fault!"
"You are in charge of you. It's not your sister's fault that you threw away food,  that you threw a pen at her face, and that you dumped cereal all over the table. Yes, I know you think she is annoying. I appreciate your apology."

She threw her backpack on the ground, stomping away. I continue to walk in with her resisting the urge to pick up her backpack for her. She dragged the tips of her shoes. She was really trying to get me to fight her. I remain calm, and breathe, maintaining my  connection to the Earth and the divine.

A ran back for her backpack.  "I need this for school and my sister is still a butthead. And I don't care if I ruin my shoes."
I can see her little conscience working. I won't engage in her fight, so she has the argument all by herself. She stopped dragging her shoes, carried her backpack herself, and we walked to school.

Amid all the bustle of kids starting school, she walked into her classroom. She turned back, looked me in the eye and said, "I love you, Mom." I blew her a kiss and went for a walk down to the river to gather up goodness from the water, sky and animals.

I breathe,  I connect with the Earth and the divine. I say thanks to the universe for my practice staying in the flow.