P is for Perfectionist

C lays on the floor, coloring with a pencil. She screams in exasperation.

"What's wrong, sweetie?"

"My pencil is frustrating me!"

She erases all of her work and begins again. Five minutes later, she throws her pencil across the room in a rage. She stomps off, returns with a pair of scissors and chops the offending piece of paper into teeny-tiny pieces.

"THERE!!", she yells.

I chuckle to myself. That one is a firecracker, and sometimes I see reminders of myself in her. 

 * * * * *

At gymnastics, she is focused.  She wants to complete her skills correctly. She holds up the line while she walks on the beam. She doesn't have 100% balance, and can't bring herself to move to the next activity until she tries it again and gets it right. She steps out of line and lets others take their turn until she can attempt it again.

She is learning, carefully, that these skills...the cartwheels, the backward rolls, the pullovers...are endeavors that take time to learn, and practice to improve.

Sometimes (most times),  perfection doesn't happen on the first try.

In fact, sometimes it doesn't happen on the 56976 try.

* * * * *

B has big expectations for herself. She sets the bar high, and becomes upset with herself if she doesn't fulfill her ambitions on the first pursuit.

She has a new addition facts set to work on.  She sets her two-minute goal. She reaches it, just barely. She sets her one-minute goal - but it is twice as many problems as her two-minute goal. I interrupt her, ask her if she thinks that is reasonable given her progress in the two minute time span.

She gets irritable with me. "I can finish this today, Mom. I just want to learn them all right now."

I back away, give her space. She doesn't complete her one-minute goal. Her face is dark. She asks for a new paper.

"Are you sure? You've already..."

"I didn't do as many as I said I would. Please give me a new paper!"

Three papers later, she stomps off in frustration, only one math problem away from where she wanted to be.

"I don't understand why I can't just know them, Mom. I don't want to have to learn them."

* * * * *

"I don't want to go to gymnastics!"

"But B, you enjoy gymnastics! Your coaches love you!" After asking some questions over several weeks of complaints, and getting a variety of answers, what I believe is the real issue emerges.

"Every time I do a skill, my coach fixes me. I don't like to be fixed. I know how to do it."

I explain that although she is able to do many things, the next step is to work on her form, hold her body just right, strengthen her muscles.

"I can do that myself. I wish they wouldn't fix me."

I send her to class anyway, where she has a great day and practices hard, but makes a subtle face every time she is corrected by a coach.

* * * * *

I can empathize. I am the same way. When I was younger, if I couldn't learn something the first time that I tried it, it was "boring", "not my thing", and all of the other excuses perfectionists use. I couldn't stand being coached...by a trainer, by an expert. I could figure it out myself.

Now in my adult life, I work very hard to re-train myself away from this, for my own growth and to be a better example for my girls. It is an obstinate way to approach life, and I am trying to soften my rebel spirit a bit, and allow others to help me and teach me. It still makes me a little squirmy, though.


* * * * *

People handle perfectionism in different ways. C exhibits the more productive version as her father does, the kind that pushes you to be better, do more. B and I struggle with the halting variant that whispers, "Why try? You won't be good enough."

I want my children to strive for excellence; I know they are capable of doing whatever they set their minds to. Perfectionism, though, can be all encompassing and at times, debilitating. My husband seems to have a huge case of Imposter Syndrome, although, of course,  he does not believe it. I have a research compulsion, and read everything I can find on how to help us change the cycle. We can teach these young ones the importance of setting realistic goals, being proud of their accomplishments, and enjoying their interests without the self-deprecating words that perfectionism murmurs.

Then I have to stop and laugh at myself, and ask the hubby if he too sees the irony in my reading "Moving Past Perfectionism" in an attempt to make us better? :)

* * * * *

Some fantastic resources on helping gifted kids cope with perfectionism can be found here:

Perfectionism and the Gifted from Hoagies'

Helping Gifted Students Cope with Perfectionism, from Davidson 

Sylvia Rimm on Perfectionism from SENG

Imposter Syndrome from Hoagies'

flickr, Creative Commons

{GHF Blog Hop} The Case of the Car Seat Fury

C hates her car seat. She has hated it from day one. When she was a baby, we rarely ventured more than 20 minutes away from our home unless we were prepared for Ultimate Scream Fest. B was the same way, but her cry was much more mellow and, as awful as it sounds, much easier to tune out when a longer car ride was inevitable. Still, the switch to the booster seat was SUCH a welcome moment for B, and the end of many degrees of stress.

C is almost big enough to make the switch. As in one-half inch and three pounds from the recommendations. The cautious side of me would like to wait another three or six months to promote her to the booster seat. We do a lot of highway driving, and I want her to be safe.

But on the other hand, the screaming and fighting when we get in the car is getting old. She is strong enough to be a problem, and I have to plan ahead 15 minutes to leave the house, knowing that there will most likely be an incident before we can go to our destination (frustrating, multiple times daily.). Once safely buckled, she moved the chest buckle down as far as she can (unsafe), pulls on the adjusting strap and loosens the belt (unsafe). She wiggles, she groans, she states where and how this car seat buckle is ruining her life. I don't like to think it is affecting my driving abilities, but it probably is. She's pretty distracting with the trying to escape and all. We need an extra 10 minutes once we reach our destination so she can compose herself and act appropriately. I tallied it up the other day. We went to three places, which means in and out of the car three times....so roughly an hour of our day (plus the time IN the car) was spent on C dealing with her car seat hatred. That's like 30 hours of my life PER MONTH.

We tried the Ride Safer travel vest. That was a disaster for a week. B liked it, but it took away her independence, because her hands just weren't quite strong enough or dexterous enough to maneuver the belts, so that added another 5 minutes to every trip, along with some extra frustration on both of our parts. (On those three trip days, that was another 15 minutes! 7 ½ more hours per month! All together, with Little Miss Scream, that's equivalent of THREE DAYS spent on car seat trauma, you guys.) C didn't like the feel of the vest around her body – it's much like a water safety vest, and those are a whole separate calamity. She didn't like that it held her still in the seat. She began to wiggle and groan and state how this seat belt vest was ruining her life.

So, I decided enough is enough. I bought the high back car seat this morning. I am just hoping that it isn't too straight, or too itchy, or the car seat belt isn't too “wrong” or whatever else she might come up with. My only other options are to stay at home the rest of my life or invest in some duct tape and really, really good ear buds to drown her out.

I've commiserated with other parents about this... what options have worked for you?

**Edited to add: The new booster seat seems to be working well, with the exception of one seat belt removal experience while in the car. C loves the colors, silver and purple, and is actually thrilled to go places now. She also promises she will never, ever remove her seat belt again while the car is moving. We arrived everywhere on time this week. No fits were thrown. It was a miracle!

This blog post is part of the GHF April 2014 Blog Hop. Be sure to visit these other fantastic bloggers' posts on promoting health and wellness in the gifted/2e child!

When the World is Telling You "Hush"...

I ran across this blog post from Paula Prober on the GHF Facebook page...

"Individuals with rainforest minds are often intense and quite bright. They love learning new things and sharing what they learn with others. But you may run into trouble when your cohorts don’t appreciate your long detailed descriptions or your esoteric musings."

                                                                ~Exuberance and Unending Curiosity

                

It described me exactly. I love to find an article or blog or research paper about something interesting that has lots of other links to study it further. I read the links, I check the cited books out of the library, I soak it all up until the next subject is discovered. I love to share what I've learned, usually with my husband or sister, who humor me kindly.

Sometimes, I get so excited about it, that I forget to check my surroundings before I start spouting off.

One night, the husband and I had a Trivial Pursuit night with his best friend and wife. One of the questions reminded me of some random subject of interest that I had just finished reading about. I don't remember exactly what it was, but I do remember saying, "Oh! I was just reading something about that, and what actually happens is..." and it being so interesting to me, but the eyes of our friends began to glaze over. My husband started doing the "cut" sign across his throat. And the sound of crickets.

I may just be over-analyzing (yes, I do that too. Sigh.), but I believe that was the last time we were invited over to their house. The guys hang out all the time, but our families haven't gotten together in a long while. Are we just all busy, or did I accidentally cross the line of letting too much of my wiring out?

It's so rare and comforting to run across someone besides my husband who "gets" me. It feels as is a big sigh of relief washes over my entire body. I can be myself. I can talk about my kids. I don't have to pretend. Most of these people, however, I have only found online, and I am a proximity person. I typically need to see you often to be able to feel close to you...but maybe I will have to train myself to be different in this area if I'd like more real friends. I have been making a concerted effort to be more involved in a few of my online groups, and I'll see how that goes.

When I was in middle school, I was part of a gifted program that grouped those of us that qualified together for language arts, social studies, math and science. Those school years were my best - I was surrounded by people who were so much like me. We had different interests, and we understood how exciting it was to share them with each other. Then came high school, and several moves, and we fell out of touch. Since that time, I have made a few friends that have lasted with me over time, but they are not "spill my guts" friends. And certainly not "spill my guts about my kids" friends.

Over time, I have just come to the realization that I am who I am, and I like who I am. I have become an expert at toning myself down and fitting my personality into the circumstance, but it's so cramped in that box!

flickr

As I watch my kids grow and develop, and see that they have acquired many of these same traits, it encourages me to not keep myself folded up in that box. I want them to love and appreciate themselves for who they are, and the best way to teach them is by example. Of course, they will need to learn some situational cues and behaviors in order to survive in this world, but I'd like them to be confident in themselves and not be convinced that they need to camouflage their personalities, as I did for 30 some years.

So, here's to getting out of that box and exploring the rainforest.

Sweet Sleep...or the Opposite

 

C told me from the backseat the other day, "No, I do not sleep on Tuesday, Wednesday or Thursday, or 1, 2, 3, 4, 5 days. I only sleep on Mondays."

Isn't that the truth.

The girls have a regular bedtime schedule. They get their pj's on and brush teeth around 7:30pm. We read together until 8pm. Hubby and I turn on their music, tuck them in, give goodnight kisses, leave. The girls have a small light in their room that is on a timer, and turns off at 9:30pm.

B usually stays up and reads until the light turns off, and occasionally we find her laying on her belly, book stretched out to reach the light from the hallway. She goes to sleep on her own when she is finished, and wakes up happy in the morning, so it works for us.

B was a LOVELY napper. When she was a baby, she set herself on a sleep schedule...napping from 9:30am - 11:30am, and then from 1pm - 4pm. I didn't know how good I had it. I had time to blog, time to read, time to clean, all in a quiet, serene environment. When she woke up, of course, it was a different story, but those hours throughout the day were so revitalizing. She went to bed at 7:30pm, and slept until 5am, and although that was an early wake up call, she was almost always in a good mood upon waking, and would keep herself busy for awhile in the morning. She has always enjoyed her own space, so co-sleeping was never an option.

C, on the other hand...She tells me she does not like the dark, and does not like to close her eyes. When she was a baby, she would nap for 45 minutes during the day at the most, and only after crying and fighting until she had nothing left to give. Those short naps disappeared around 18 months. She would sleep for about 8 hours through the night, but often only if she was snuggled right next to me. She was intense for every single other one of the 15 hours and 15 minutes left in the day.

Whew. I am worn out again just thinking about it.

These days, she is still intense, she rarely naps and it only occurs if we are driving around in the late afternoon, and that is ALWAYS worse than her skipping the nap altogether. She wants me to snuggle her at bedtime until she goes to sleep, which although I love it and try to soak all the snuggling up that I can before she gets to be what she thinks is "too big for that", my moments to myself and with my husband are few. If she does sneak in that nap, she is up for hours in the evening, and would like some entertainment, please. Most times, she is just tired and on the verge of hysteria and meltdown and the slightest thing sends her over the edge...it's a tightrope event every night.

Then there is the morning. I set my alarm for 5:15am daily, hoping to have some quiet time for myself to drink my coffee and do some writing, but most days C is up by 5:40am.

"Mama! The sun is up, so I am up!"

After we watched Frozen for the first time, I started calling C "Anna" in the mornings...such similar wake up calls. :)

She is not always a pleasant little bird in the mornings like her sister, and I have learned to just stop whatever it is that I am doing and pretend that I have just been waiting for this early morning moment to greet her, when my mind is screaming, "Can I just get 30 minutes of peace here?"

It can be very difficult some days. The worst ones include me feeling drained of patience at bedtime and my last words of the night coming out short and frustrated, causing tears (her) and guilt (me). Others leave me feeling like I am just spoiling her and giving into to her every whim and if I would just toughen up and tell her no, everything would be better. But I think anyone who can empathize with my plight knows that is just not the answer.

So what to do? For now, I am adding more activity to our day, attempting to keep her going non-stop to avoid the nap, wear her out sufficiently without sending her over the OE cliff. This will be a difficult transition, assuming it works, for B and I, who are more of the quiet-homebody-never-leave-the-house-if-we-have-a-book types, and it may result in some meltdowns of a different color for her. Maybe me too, to be honest...but there has to be a solution, right?

I'd love to hear ideas that you have tried, what worked, what didn't...because as I am sure you are painfully aware, what works one day may not work the next, and my bag of tricks could always use some refilling.

For now, I'll rest, because that sweet, sassy face will be popping through my door to greet me soon...

Meltdown City

image: tiffany terry

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C has crazy, scary, unpredictable meltdowns. It usually begins with something I say innocuously.

"Please take off your paint shirt before you go in the living room."

Or something she does, or something that happens. Something I would never imagine would set off the cycle...

 "I can't button my pants!"

"My raisin fell on the floor!"

"I can't reach that!"

"You put my syrup on top of my pancake instead of beside!"

...turn into yelling, angry face, awful words, hysterical crying, "please hold me, Mama, don't go, just hold me", tears streaming, turning into hysterical laughter and the exhausted calm and the "I'm so sorry, Mama. I was just so angry."

We've tried deep breathing. We've discussed that all problems have solutions, if you can stay calm long enough to figure it out. It's that "stay calm long enough" part that tends to be an issue. 

She isn't a spoiled kid, in fact, she is a wonderful, kind, empathetic girl. She doesn't like to freak out. It exhausts her. She even knows she needs some self-regulation and asks to do yoga after she regains her sanity. (Thank you CosmicKids Yoga on YouTube. You are a necessity in this house.) I know that with time and maturity, (hopefully) she will improve her ability to manage her emotions.

Prior to staying home with the girls, I was an early childhood specialist, doling out advice to frustrated parents who didn't know how to deal with their child's out of control behavior.

 "He's doing that for attention. Just let him cry it out in his room. It may take some time. He is in control of you when you let his throw the fit in front of everyone. Remove him from the situation."

I see now that despite the training and education I was drawing from, I had no idea what I was talking about. I want to go back and apologize to all of those parents. I had at that point so far only dealt with a very compliant 4 year old of typical fit-throwing abilities, and a classroom full of special needs preschoolers who spent just 3 hours of their day with me. I feel as though teachers often are absorbed into their bubble of time and space, and although what they (we) do is very important, we forget that we see our children but a fraction of their lives, and really can't get the whole picture of what is going on with these kiddos. In my own circumstance, I can look back and see that although I felt like I knew these children inside and out, I knew just a small piece about them, and most likely not enough to venture into advice territory. Perhaps just active listening and compassion would have been a better choice. But alas...that was another lifetime ago.

For a long time, I just felt like an awful mother during C's meltdowns. It was so frustrating, and time consuming, not to mention trying to keep a schedule and get anywhere on time is next to impossible when you don't know when the hurricane is about to hit. I practiced my own advice, and found that tossing her in a room by herself only made things worse (as I had cautioned other parents that it would) but instead of eventually calming down, she would just become emotionally frantic. Threatening consequences, bribing with rewards, throwing my own fit...there was no solution and mainly made things worse.

My philosophies have grown and changed since my teaching days. I keep a quote from GHF on my refrigerator now, "The times when kids need your love most may be the times when they behave in the most unloving ways. Try to understand what is happening in their heads and their hearts and address that first." I re-read it frequently.

 The Explosive Child, by Ross Greene is the most helpful book about parenting that I have read in awhile. It gave me some answers, some strategies, and gave me hope that I am not the world's worst parent. The Highly Sensitive Child, by Elaine Aron was encouraging as well, and helped me understand both of my little girls more completely.  I've learned that the most helpful thing I can do for C is weather the storm. hold her when she needs me to, and let her be. Sit on her bed, or lay beside her or hold her hand until she is able to calm down. Let her know that I support her when her emotions become too much, and improve my patience with her during the challenging times.

There are good days, and bad days, and there are just age-typical "I want my own way" days, which are an animal of their own requiring their own response. At the end of the day, though, I make it a point to have the girls find one or two of the best things about the day, and finish it on a positive note, concentrating on the happy moments and proud moments rather than the difficult ones.

Because as Roald Dahl wrote..." if you have good thoughts they will shine out of your face like sunbeams and you will always look lovely.”

Something I Wrote Once

Asynchrony

My girl is that unusual one...

The activist, making signs to “save the prairie dogs” at the soon-to-be developed field

Reading the book about the Civil War, crying throughout dinner

Over those who perished in the war, unable to take a bite.

Who is able to meet adults, professionals

And have eloquent discussions with them

Yet is too nervous to leave the house to meet a group of girls her own age.

Who blurts out a passage of a book that she has memorized

Because she is not certain of what to say,

And wants to be part of the conversation

Who answers big questions with good vocabulary

While her face is dripping with the water of melted ice,

Because she loves how it feels on her face

Whose hands are cracking, dry, because she hates the feel of lotion

Who flaps like a bird and stomps her feet when she gets excited

Quirks others don't understand...

The excitement that comes from reading the best part of the book

Saving an animal from harm

Finishing the math problems without help

Writing a story

Seeing something beautiful

Christina Rossetti

Abraham Lincoln

Ghost stories

Watching documentaries about anything prehistoric.

The solar system. The human body.

Who loves anatomy and practices cutting with a scalpel,

Dreaming of her future career as a surgeon

Who can tell me the species of

And intricate details about almost any bug or bird we meet

Who is teaching her little sister how to read and spell

Who can learn just about any new skill in five minutes.

Ten, if it's difficult.

Who wakes up in the night, crying because her pajamas no longer feel “right”

Who feels the most miniscule rock in her shoe, or chair, or anything she has to touch

Who asks me to put my hand on her lungs to confirm she is still breathing while she sleeps

Who senses my stressful mood before I do, and expresses my emotions before I realize them

Who expects lifelong friendship and connection after playing with a stranger for five minutes.

And is heart broken when that is not the case.

Who speaks of life and death and the existential beyond

With the understanding of a philosopher

Who remembers events and details about everything more fully than I can ever hope to.

Who loves to learn like a bird loves to fly

And fly she will, someday.

For now, she will swing on the pendulum,

The intensity of the sun

The feelings of a 5 year old

With the intuition of an adult

The reasoning of a sage

With the tantrums of a child

And an open heart, naive and vulnerable

To everything and everyone around her.

GiftedHomeschoolers.org was kind enough to publish this on their blog here. They have many fantastic resources for parents of gifted children and 2e children, and a discussion forum that is invaluable. This year, SENG (Supporting Emotional Needs of the Gifted) is offering GHF supporting members a special discounted rate at their annual conference. This is a great opportunity to learn new information about supporting the social and emotional needs of our gifted learners, find support in the gifted community, and meet some great people. More information can be found at GHF here, and more details regarding the conference can be found at SENG here.

Fitting In

Sometimes, the comments B makes make me happy.

I was quizzing her on math facts while driving her across town, and she answered them all without hesitation.

"You need something more difficult, daughter."

So I asked her subtraction facts instead, answered with equally quick replies. I was surprised; we haven't really worked on subtraction very much.

"How did you figure those out so fast?"

"Well, you know, Mom, everything is really just addition."

My teacher self was so proud. 

Sometimes, the comments B makes are painful.

"Mom, that girl at the park was so clever!"

"Oh really? Why?"

"She was really great at losing me!"

*Sigh*

I want my kiddo to be able to go to the park and find a buddy to play with. Yes, she has her sister, but sometimes a 5-and-three-quarters (as she likes to say) needs a bigger-than-three to play with.

Instead, she finds kids that are good at losing her, while the rest play happily together.

I see her sweetness, her immediate love for all, her ability to make a friend in three seconds. They see her lack of respect for physical boundaries, her intensity, her oddness.

It's hard on a mama.

We were at a girl scout cookie booth last weekend. B was tired, she had been at a practice for a play all morning. There were lots of people, lots of noise, unfamiliars everywhere. She decided to build a fort with empty cookie boxes instead of help sell cookies. I could see her point...it was quiet and shady in there. I would have liked to crawl in if I could have fit. Then, she chased balloons around like a kitten, paying no attention to where other people were standing or what they were doing. She had to be asked to stop. So, she took a ribbon with a balloon weight attached, and "walked" it, telling everyone it was her pet, Smiley.

Which was all fine. But odd. And little girls pounce on odd. A few of them took over her fort and wouldn't let her in. Another scout reprimanded them and helped B recover her spot, which made me want to hug that little girl. Finally, we had to leave when B decided that she had had enough and settled down on a bench for a nap.

When I write it all down, it doesn't seem so bad. But in the moment, it was uncomfortable, embarrassing, out-of-place. The other girl scout moms were watching her, no doubt wondering "What is UP with that kid?" while their children stood at the booth and happily sold cookies to strangers.

I feel awful when I am embarrassed of my girl, when I want her to conform to social norms and act like the rest of the kids. That is not who she is, and I doubt she ever will be. In fact, I don't want her to be - that would mean that something broke her, and she gave up her exquisite self to be someone else, to fit in.

I need to put away my own pride and emotions in those situations and make sure that I support her in who she is when her individuality appears. That's difficult some days.