Saturday, February 29, 2020
What a difference a single week can make. I did not have my scheduled chemotherapy last Friday because of the deep wound that opened near my tailbone. Yesterday was my scheduled rest from chemotherapy week and this morning my older daughter told me she does not think she is hitting bone anymore when cleaning the deep wound. One of the other wounds that was looking a little worse for wear is starting to heal. I can heal wounds if we take chemotherapy and steroids out of the mix.
It is nice to get good medical news for a change. Next week I will probably not be a little depressed when I come home from my wound care appointment. Woo hoo! Life is looking up. I really wanted to have my chemotherapy break during the summer, but this may be the best time for my mental health. The obvious downward trajectory my wounds have been taking has been very disheartening, even for me.
I have been trying to work on my tone of voice lately. I record most of my seven-year-old’s, Mika, YouTube videos and frequently give her direction. As I have watched these videos to edit them, I have noticed my tone when I direct her sounds harsher than I intend it to be. Since I have been making an effort to monitor my tone, I hear far fewer cringe-worthy directions coming out of my mouth than before.
Last night Mika had a meltdown and started crying uncontrollably. I tried to get her to calm down and tell me what was wrong, but I could not understand what she was saying. I kept telling her to quit crying so I could understand her. It was probably five minutes before I understood she was upset because she had placed some clay figures a friend from school had made for her in a resealable plastic bag and they had gotten squished. Mika started ranting about how we could never use plastic bags again, and when I tried to reason with her, she stomped upstairs crying.
When Mika got upstairs, her dad asked her what was wrong, and I listened to him do exactly what I had just done. He tried to get her to calm down and tell him what was wrong, but he could not understand what she was saying. He kept telling her to quit crying so he could understand her. As I listened to him interact with Mika, I realized we had both made a huge mistake. After finally talking to her dad, Mika went to her room to cry some more.
About 20 minutes later, I called Mika down to talk to me. I apologized to Mika for escalating the situation. I told her that instead of trying to get her to tell me what was wrong while she was still upset, I should have sent her to her room to cry it out, and then talked to her about it. We decided Mika would keep her clay creations in a bucket going forward, and we could still use resealable plastic bags for other items in the house. Sometimes you need to hear what you say out loud to understand how wrong it is.
Mika and I will still probably clash until the day I die because she does not understand that you do not get to play 24 hours a day. Mika truly believes if I insist she follows the rules, and Mika knows the rules, I am being mean or do not respect her feelings. Mika cannot grasp the concept that enforcing the rules is not punishment, it is expected behavior. I am sure it was much easier to be a parent of a young child when my parents did it. My first two children were much easier to communicate with at this age. I do not know if it is Mika’s personality, my age, awareness, the prevalence of technology, or all four, but I worry about Mika’s mental health much more than I did for her brother and sister.
My piece of advice to you is to give your children time to cry without being mean. I told both my older children, “Cry babies go to bed.” and sent them to their rooms when they cried as children. I do sometimes send Mika to her room to cry, but I tell her to, “Cry it out.” I get the same result without demeaning her.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.
What a difference a single week can make. I did not have my scheduled chemotherapy last Friday because of the deep wound that opened near my tailbone. Yesterday was my scheduled rest from chemotherapy week and this morning my older daughter told me she does not think she is hitting bone anymore when cleaning the deep wound. One of the other wounds that was looking a little worse for wear is starting to heal. I can heal wounds if we take chemotherapy and steroids out of the mix.
It is nice to get good medical news for a change. Next week I will probably not be a little depressed when I come home from my wound care appointment. Woo hoo! Life is looking up. I really wanted to have my chemotherapy break during the summer, but this may be the best time for my mental health. The obvious downward trajectory my wounds have been taking has been very disheartening, even for me.
I have been trying to work on my tone of voice lately. I record most of my seven-year-old’s, Mika, YouTube videos and frequently give her direction. As I have watched these videos to edit them, I have noticed my tone when I direct her sounds harsher than I intend it to be. Since I have been making an effort to monitor my tone, I hear far fewer cringe-worthy directions coming out of my mouth than before.
Last night Mika had a meltdown and started crying uncontrollably. I tried to get her to calm down and tell me what was wrong, but I could not understand what she was saying. I kept telling her to quit crying so I could understand her. It was probably five minutes before I understood she was upset because she had placed some clay figures a friend from school had made for her in a resealable plastic bag and they had gotten squished. Mika started ranting about how we could never use plastic bags again, and when I tried to reason with her, she stomped upstairs crying.
When Mika got upstairs, her dad asked her what was wrong, and I listened to him do exactly what I had just done. He tried to get her to calm down and tell him what was wrong, but he could not understand what she was saying. He kept telling her to quit crying so he could understand her. As I listened to him interact with Mika, I realized we had both made a huge mistake. After finally talking to her dad, Mika went to her room to cry some more.
About 20 minutes later, I called Mika down to talk to me. I apologized to Mika for escalating the situation. I told her that instead of trying to get her to tell me what was wrong while she was still upset, I should have sent her to her room to cry it out, and then talked to her about it. We decided Mika would keep her clay creations in a bucket going forward, and we could still use resealable plastic bags for other items in the house. Sometimes you need to hear what you say out loud to understand how wrong it is.
Mika and I will still probably clash until the day I die because she does not understand that you do not get to play 24 hours a day. Mika truly believes if I insist she follows the rules, and Mika knows the rules, I am being mean or do not respect her feelings. Mika cannot grasp the concept that enforcing the rules is not punishment, it is expected behavior. I am sure it was much easier to be a parent of a young child when my parents did it. My first two children were much easier to communicate with at this age. I do not know if it is Mika’s personality, my age, awareness, the prevalence of technology, or all four, but I worry about Mika’s mental health much more than I did for her brother and sister.
My piece of advice to you is to give your children time to cry without being mean. I told both my older children, “Cry babies go to bed.” and sent them to their rooms when they cried as children. I do sometimes send Mika to her room to cry, but I tell her to, “Cry it out.” I get the same result without demeaning her.
Until next time,
Susanne
Please check out my GoFundMe page.