Rough Seas...

e've been traversing some rough seas lately. Winkie's been throwing us many many challenges, which makes the last time seem like a pleasant breeze.

I've always been particular to not pin down his character to a certain word. Because then, that word soon begins to define him and I wouldn't be able to look past it. I've always known that he had a stubborn streak in him, and preferred to believe that it was a condition of circumstances, the changes happening in his life and my own lapses in parenting him better. But he has never lacked in any love from us. I have tried my utmost to be patient with him. And many times, I have failed and many times I have succeeded. And after ages of being particularly harsh with myself, and tripping over with guilt, I have come to the conclusion that I have been as good a mother to him as was possible for me. And he is a stubborn child. A very stubborn child.

Being stubborn is surely not a bad thing in itself. For one, it drives away all confusion because we know exactly what he wants because he knows it too. Its the other side of stubborn that I struggle with. The one that forms rigidities and refuses to open its mind to the existence of other possibilities. The kind of stubborn that closes in on itself, when yelling and scolding takes place, and remains resolute and unmoving even in the face of love and patience. What then, are we left with to go on? How then are we supposed to move him? Do we let him be? If so, how will he understand that things don't work this way? That everything has repercussions. Or do we talk to him, when all is calm and the situation is diffused? Such conversations do take place, and some understanding does happen, but it does not help for the short run. Because the very next day, similar issues crop up again. And what we said yesterday means nothing.

Do we spend more time with him? Sure, that's a good idea. And we do. And with all that I do in a day, I do this too. But then, it never seems to be enough. Weekends spent with his Dad at his disposal, playing games reading books, taking him on outings....and weekdays in which I try and do at least one special uninterrupted thing with him. And I too have my limits. How much can I sit fully absorbed in him, when meals have to be cooked, and basketfuls of fresh laundry, already several days old needs to be put away, a hungry baby to be fed....and so much more that needs attending to.

It has been a very very exhausting journey with him from day to day. Starting from the morning and ending with the night, with the night's sleep feeling like a reprieve before the next round. No matter how early we try and get him in to bed, he cries in the morning that he is tired and wants to sleep more, with school time just an hour away. Its a complete and total non-cooperation movement (NCM) that he has launched. Won't get up, won't brush his teeth, won't have his milk, won't touch his breakfast, won't get out of the car to go in to school, won't take a nap in the afternoon considering how tired he was in the morning, will take forever to finish his milk in the evening, with dinner the crowning point of the NCM. And we end the day with such disgruntled feelings and utter despair. Surely that's not the way it has to be?

Surely everyday shouldn't be this difficult, or so filled with our anger and his tears? When did he suddenly become the opposition? When did we start taking everything he does so personally, like its our authority that he is challenging? And then of course, the nagging doubts begin. Did we do something wrong? Are we at fault here? Which part of this equation should we have better controlled? What do we need to change? Or is this just his nature, his true nature, which we are up against? Can love not conquer this? Are we capable of this kind of unwavering love? I know the answer for myself....its no. I don't find it easy to love him in times like these. In fact, I forget that he is a child. I forget that if I could get into his mind for just a second, I might actually find a clue there. I remember this only later, when the calm has come back. And by then, it is an irretrievable moment. These days he just feels way beyond my reach and my understanding. Every moment with him is like doing a little hopscotch in a maze of dynamite, unknowing of what lies around the bend, and when the next fuse will blow.

Every night I tell him when he goes to bed that I would be very happy the next day if he woke up with a smile and greeted me with a Good Morning. And every morning, as I wake him up smiling, he looks back at me quietly, unsmilingly, and refuses to mouth the words...watching my reactions instead. How do I make him feel that that there is so much more to be gained by welcoming the day brightly, rather than wishing to hide back under the covers. I dare not ask his father this question, for his answer is already formed in my head...he will quote a certain passage and say...when you point one finger at another person, there are at least three fingers pointing right back at you. And right as he is, that doesn't help any. And how can I help him see that even if he wasn't feeling his best, it is worth the effort he puts in to get up to seeing the smile of simple happiness on his mother's face?

He walks in to school with a sure stride, but what aspect of him prevents him from wishing his teacher back when she wishes him? To this day, and he has been going to school for a year and 1/2 now, he hasn't wished his teacher a good morning. Is it because I ask him to just before we reach that juncture? Is this another way to test my authority? Or is he just shy? Shyness vanishes soon after the school work starts. Is it a feeling of consciousness? Being up there in the spotlight and expected to do something? Who'd ever have thought that 2 words could spell so many things!! And what about all those times when in his fit to show his love for his brother, he presses his head a little too tightly, much to the little one's obvious discomfort and completely unheeding of my pleas. Calling out his name to call for him is a surefire way to have him ignore me all the more.

Unseeing, unhearing, unheeding.....its all gotten too much now. And finally I have reached a point, where I have taken complete stock of the situation and decided on some things. First, I am going to pick my battles with him. And believe me, it is very very hard to do. Especially when you are a nit picky person. And as a mother, you sort of become a nitpick, I think. (Or I may be wrong. :)). I have begun to unsee, unhear and unheed a lot of things myself. I am letting go of the little things, placing confidence in him that he will learn on his own, and save myself up for only the big things.

Two, I'm trying to look for my lost sense of humour. And I find it only when I stop head on, in a potentially explosive situation, and think before letting any binding words escape from my mouth. Today I told him...that whenever he gets naughty and doesn't listen to me, I am going to hug him. Hug him tight, feel his smallness under my hands and remember the lost child....and whenever I hug him, he can ask me, if he's been naughty! We had a good laugh over that this morning. And whenever he gets all deaf on me, I tell him to open his ears....manually open his ears and its something he just can't resist. In the act of pulling his ears open, somewhere a smile has appeared, and in that little act of obedience, I have calmed a little because I see that I am having an effect on him, and then we can proceed to the next step.

" Discipline must come through liberty...We do not consider an individual disciplined only when he has been rendered as artificially silent as a mute and as immovable as a paralytic. He is an individual annihilated, not disciplined! - Maria Montessori "

Three, no more lecturing during times of disobedience. No wasted words. No scoldings. He will be told once, and then maybe twice, just for added benefit. And then, no more. He has full freedom to make a choice, and will enjoy the privileges of it or face the repercussions, depending on what he chose. This, at least, is working I know. Today morning at breakfast, he dillied and dallied over the very omelette he had requested for. I told him once that he needs to finish it within the next 20 min, then we will leave for school. Of course his ears were closed at the time. Or pretend closed. 1o min went by, in which he did very little other than call out to Thambi playfully and poke at the cut-up pieces on his plate. As I was about to go upstairs to freshen up, I told his Thambi that we could leave the house as soon as I came downstairs. Winkie, of course, took notice of that, seeing as it was not directed at him, and understood the full portent of those words.

Upstairs, I prepared for the worst, for I could still hear his playful voice. The consequence of an unfinished breakfast on a good day when he had ample time to eat, was in good health and reasonably hungry, was missing playtime in school, as I have done once before in the past. I came downstairs some 10 min later bracing myself for a full plate, when I saw to my utter surprise that only a single piece remained. Somehow he had managed to finish an entire omelette in 1o record minutes. And its not a simple feat, that!

I met his eyes with a wide smile. He looked smug and in control. Good job...I told him and we got ready to leave. I can play in school today, he asked? Of course...I said, like I was surprised he was even asking. The feeling of camaraderie we had in the car as we went to school was unmatched and priceless. The missing feeling of mental exhaustion I would have had from wasting many words in preaching was something I savoured. And the feeling of self worth that he radiated all the way from the back seat...well, that is the light at the very end of this long tunnel....or in better keeping with the title of this post....the lighthouse at the end of our rough voyage.