Emotional Detox

I need this.

For the past several weeks I've been suffering from a serious state of emotional overload. Mostly good--in fact, mostly great--but for any of you who know me, really know me...you may not be surprised by my "shutting down".
I need a break.

Not from fun, or from family, or from friends...but rather just from the emotional highs that come with lots of plans and excitement...and the emotional/mental fallout that inevitably follows.

I mean, for Pete's sake--I can't even seem to keep up with my blog! And every time I go to post some pictures, it seems I'm 3 or 4 "fun times" behind on my posting.
Sheesh.
You'd think there weren't any bigger problems in our world.

And the truth is, really, I'm happy.
Totally happy.
Content, in love with my family and our life here on Santa Cruz.
Grateful for our friends and family, and all the ways they color our life.

I guess when it comes to my blog, I've had some frustrations with myself in the past month. There are a multitude of thoughts, ideas, bits of randomness that whirl about in my head every day...and yet, when I find the time to sit down, I feel like a 3 year old.
Bursting with enthusiasm and so many things to say in one moment...but falling short, somehow, of delivering the entire message. And feeling incredibly frustrated for it.
But maybe that's just my 3 year old.

You know, it's almost as though there's a direct link between who I was as a teacher, and who I am as a mom. Perhaps this is because teaching is one of those careers that truly harnesses your real nature, personality, wit and instinct.
As a teacher, I was (or am...I plan on going back, bitches) the fun, always willing to laugh before delivering the punishment, the one actually having fun and clapping for the kids at assemblies, the one who turned off the lights when we read suspense stories aloud (with flashlights, too!)...and was also the one who felt absolutely zero need for pretense. My 6th graders once asked me if I was "popular" in junior high...and I told them the ugly (pun most definitely intended here) truth...and to really drive the point home, I dug up my 7th grade school picture (Annie hair-do and all) the next time I visited Grand Rapids. I then brought the picture back to work with me, and hung it on the blackbaord so they'd believe me.
I don't think it was that difficult to believe that I was unpopular...I just think they were a bit shocked that I was so honest about it.

So, yes. Open-minded and open-hearted.
But holy shit, I had my "buttons".
And most of them stemmed from my serious state of OCD.

I made my students walk in straight lines everywhere we went in the building...and while I receieved compliments from the art, music, computer and gym teachers...I would put money on some of the other teachers thinking I had a serious stick up my ass.
Which I didn't, per se.
I just felt very strongly about the way my students represented our class to the rest of the school...and that they behave with respect.

Ok, I had a stick up my ass.

But where was I going with this?

Ok, yes. The link to parenting.
I'm totally a fun mom. I'm confident in this.
But sometimes I think I get a little "white-knuckled" over certain issues.
Like...potty training.
I know I need to be patient. And while a few of you might, as you're reading this, be remembering my take no prisoners resolve on this subject from earlier in the day...please know that I still carry the torch of optimism.
I'm just emotionally drained this evening...and feeling a bit weak.

As of tonight, Benjamin has three stickers on his "chart" for peeing...and zero (count 'em--zero) for poop. At the beginning of the day, the mere mention of pooping on the potty sent him into hysterical bouts of panicky crying...but by the end of the day, as we were gearing up for bed, I actually got him to just "sit" and read for a bit on the pot.
Nothing happened, but he smiled at looked real proud when I told him how proud I was of him for even trying.
I guess I have to hope that this means we're making progress...but holy shit (pardon the expression), folks...it was all I could do after lunch today (um, hello? buttery grilled cheese, applesauce and apple juice???) not to tie him down to the potty and do a "go poopy, go!" routine.

I get so hellbent on seeing a challenge through...and often get overly frustrated as a result. Here's my M.O.:
1. Set challenge
2. Consider demeanor/personality of my dude
3. Review options/do research/what-have-you
4. Come up with best-suited plan
5. Watch how my little dude gets smart and turns the tables on me
6. Spend a few minutes, hours, days fretting over whether he's truly ready for said challenge or I'm just being a p***y
7. Decide I'm being the later of the two, and move forward with plan that is unrealistic in expectations for Benjamin, but aptly meets my level of frustration for not accomplishing task.
8. Feel quilty for being a dickhead mom.
9. Also feel kinda glad I'm aware of being a dickhead mom.
10. Evaluate...and repeat nonsense.

11. Continue to overthink things.

One might gather from this rant that I have zero instinct when it comes to parenting.
But that's really not the case.
I think my biggest problem is that I just don't always follow it immediately. But I'm learning. In fact, it's odd that I'm purging myself of this all now, since I feel like this "lunatic" version of myself is really a thing of the past. Over the past year or so I've made several decisions for my boys--some big, some small--that have reflected this growth in certitude and confidence.
And I think that's why I'm flailing NOW.
Because potty training is totally kicking it all to the curb.
I'm a wreck.
Total loon...completely unsure if I'm doing the right thing. Knowing full well that Benjamin's ready, but not wanting to push him. Knowing how sensitive this child is, but not wanting to enable that sensitivity to an unhealthy end.
All the while, picturing him showing up at preschool with a Diego pull-up on.

The ironic thing is, I'm not a competitive parent.
If I'm competitve at all, it's with myself.
If I had my way, I'd let Benjamin decide when he's ready to poop like a big dude...not when his preschool tells us he needs to.
But I'm also a creature of conformity...and so here I sit.

Waiting.

For poop.