Making sugar cookies is a sign that I am no longer in basic survival mode. I am doing more than microwaving hot dogs for dinner!
Enforcing hard consequences with my kids is another sign that I am no longer in basic survival mode.
These two activities intersected yesterday in the kitchen. While I was frosting the cookies and marveling that I was enjoying myself and feeling peaceful, Child #2 approached and tried to engage me in an argument. The day before, in response to some blatant defiance, I had said,
"If you do that again, tomorrow you will have to....."
Well, he did it again and this was tomorrow and I was sticking to my word.
This made him madder than a chicken. He hovered around pestering me, crying, and trying to get me to back down. After a while, when it was clear that I was holding my ground, he came around to where I was rolling out the dough and deliberately coughed on it. How lovely. I was furious, but I kept my cool and stuck with the consequence. Later that day, he did "punish" me by not going to church, but I was able to have a good day, despite all that.
Cookies and consequences are things that have gone by the wayside, as I have focused on doing the bare minimum to hold things together, to hold myself together. Kids don't need homemade cookies. Heck, they don't even need cookies, but they do need consequences. I notice my kids are more secure when I am stronger and hold my boundaries.
I hope that what I am now learning in my recovery can compensate for the survival parenting I have been doing. I don't want to look back. Here's to cookies and consequences!
Enforcing hard consequences with my kids is another sign that I am no longer in basic survival mode.
These two activities intersected yesterday in the kitchen. While I was frosting the cookies and marveling that I was enjoying myself and feeling peaceful, Child #2 approached and tried to engage me in an argument. The day before, in response to some blatant defiance, I had said,
"If you do that again, tomorrow you will have to....."
Well, he did it again and this was tomorrow and I was sticking to my word.
This made him madder than a chicken. He hovered around pestering me, crying, and trying to get me to back down. After a while, when it was clear that I was holding my ground, he came around to where I was rolling out the dough and deliberately coughed on it. How lovely. I was furious, but I kept my cool and stuck with the consequence. Later that day, he did "punish" me by not going to church, but I was able to have a good day, despite all that.
Cookies and consequences are things that have gone by the wayside, as I have focused on doing the bare minimum to hold things together, to hold myself together. Kids don't need homemade cookies. Heck, they don't even need cookies, but they do need consequences. I notice my kids are more secure when I am stronger and hold my boundaries.
I hope that what I am now learning in my recovery can compensate for the survival parenting I have been doing. I don't want to look back. Here's to cookies and consequences!
Love this post!!!!!! I have "checked out" as a parent many times during this process...good for you for "checking back in"!! Good luck!~
ReplyDeleteGreat post:) Oh my I am learning about the boundaries with my kids as well. The punishment they hate the most, is writing sentences. My 7 year old just kicks and screams about it, but I don't back down. If it takes him 2 hours to complete it, I don't give in. Love it!
ReplyDeleteYAY! good for you!
ReplyDeleteThis is fantastic! :) It's always such a good feeling to step out of the darkness and into the sunshine again! Even if just for a moment.
ReplyDeleteI love how kids know just how to push our buttons--coughing on the cookies is a classic! Sounds like you handled it all like a pro.
ReplyDeleteI had an "aha" moment the other day learning more about the detaching with love and couldn't help but feel that this would also help me in my parenting too! I am too permissive...and I'll stop right there of my list of what I need to do better...one.day.at.a.time!
ReplyDelete