Confronting my Anger

I let things get to me sometimes. And then I find it hard to control my emotions. Kids push buttons, we all know that. And most of the time I think I do a pretty good job preventing things from escalating by anticipating their needs. But that doesn't always work of course. Noah has days like today where he WILL NOT LISTEN. It doesn't matter what I do - strict consequences, patiently repeating myself, positive reinforcement. He just zones out and doesn't cooperate. Ava gets easily frustrated when she feels like she can't communicate what she wants and doesn't always get the difference between "I don't know what you want" and "I know what you want but you can't have it". 

When all of that comes together during times where I am trying to accomplish something (getting ready to leave the house, nap time, or getting dinner prepped), things can get ugly in this house. I'm not proud to admit that I loose it pretty quickly sometimes. I snap, I yell, I slam doors. And once that cycle has kicked off, it's so hard for me to snap back out of it. 

I've had days where I let some small thing in the morning get to me and I can't help but be in a funky mood all day. It's so emotionally draining. I've wondered why I can't keep my cool sometimes. Maybe it's a sense of perfectionism and I have feelings of failure when I can't keep my kids under control. Maybe it's a form of anxiety which can manifest itself as rage. Maybe I just described the same thing in two different ways. I have always assumed these quirks, these oddities that come and go in phases, are triggered by specific events, and aren't noticeable to those who aren't very close to me, are character traits. It's been a few years since I've thought about whether or not I have or used to have depression. Then I came across the above article linking anxiety and rage, and I am wondering again. Either way, whatever the cause, getting angry and frustrated with my kids isn't helping anyone. Yelling at them might get their attention, but it never solves the problem. It most definitely doesn't make me feel better, quite the opposite in fact. And most importantly, it's not the kind of relationship I want to have with my kids. So I'm working on it.

On Bucket Fillers and Class Dark Clouds

Noah was "bucket filler of the week" at his preschool last week. Another kid was crying because one of his friends had said they didn't want to come to his house for a sleep over. Noah's teacher was already talking to the child and comforting him, when Noah walked over and said: "Hey Mr. Brian, can I talk to him for a minute?" And so he did. Apparently he said something along the lines of "that's just how it is sometimes, sometimes our friends don't want to come over and play." And it worked. The other child felt better and stopped crying, and Noah got lots of praise for being a bucket filler. 

Bucket filling is "(s)aying or doing something kind. Giving someone a heartfelt smile. Using names with respect. Helping without being asked. Giving sincere compliments. Showing respect to others. There are hundreds of wonderful ways to fill buckets. The language of bucket filling has become synonymous with being kind and thoughtful. Your bucket will be filled when, at the close of each day, you reflect on the ways in which you have filled buckets." (see http://www.bucketfillers101.com/faqs.php) 

As Noah's teacher Mr. Brian told me about it at the end of the day when I picked him up, I of course had a proud mom moment. Especially considering that during last year's parent teacher conference, his teacher in the previous class mentioned that Noah was often too much in his own bubble to see how other kids may be feeling or may be impacted by his words or actions.

On the way home we talked about how his kindness had not only made the other child feel better, but also himself. That's the idea of bucket filling - by being kind and thoughtful, we not only fill other people's buckets (aka our mental and emotional selves), but also our own. 

And then I thought of this article I had shared on Facebook a few days earlier, quoting "Why should my daughter be taught, at 3, that she’s responsible for placating Max and his mood disorder? I’ve spent my life trying to be Class Sunshine — getting good grades because I wanted to please my teachers, eating the wrong meal when waiters bring it to me, apologizing to potted plants when I bump into them. Our society already teaches women to be “Class Sunshine.” If Amalia wants to be Class Dark Cloud, damn it, she is free to be Class Dark Cloud."