Time Out

Super Nanny used to make it look easy.

This was in my pre-motherhood days.

Not only did she exude confidence and consistency in the timeouts she orchestrated, but she did so whilst maintaining her own calm.  Before children, as I watched the occasional Super Nanny episode, I applauded her and rolled my eyes at the parents who quickly dismantled Super Nanny\’s clear boundaries and expectations once left to their own devices.

No doubt I\’d still roll my eyes at the parents whose children rule the roost, but I\’ve also learned a degree of empathy along the way.  Maintaining Super Nanny-like confidence, consistency, and calmness is no easy feat.

\”I hide!\” Keats has screeched on more than one occasion, clambering up onto the bed as Wren ponders life inches away on a folded towel, quietly awaiting his nappy change. The bed that Dan and I share doubles as our changing area day and night.

\”Keats, you may hide after I\’ve changed Wren.  Right now, please sit still.  You might kick Wren by mistake.\”  My voice is calm and confident, as am I…at first.

\”No, Mama!  I hide RIGHT NOW!\” With muffled giggles, Keats dives under the duvet.

At times, my patience ebbs more quickly than others, a tired edge creeping into my voice.  \”Keeeeats…Come out now or you will have a time out.\”

\”No!  I hide!\” And he shuffles further down under the covers, inevitably kicking Wren in the process or coming dangerously close to smothering his baby brother with those covers.  I can feel my anger start to bubble up.  The calmness is hard to maintain after weeks of sleep deprivation and a desperate craving for Me time.

Nevertheless, I\’m consistent.

I tear back the covers, hoisting up my two year old, marching him into his bedroom, and depositing him on the floor.  \”You kept hiding when I told you to stop.  You have a time out for two minutes.  Do you understand?\”

Keats nods, his big, beautiful hazel eyes looking up at me under his characteristically furrowed brow.  Only when I exit the room do the tears erupt.  Keats\’ tears, I should clarify, although my own have threatened from time to time.

Two minutes give me time to change Wren and collect myself enough to go back to Keats post-timeout.  I repeat the reason for the timeout, usually in a voice that\’s once again authentically calm, tell Keats I love him, and give him a kiss and a cuddle.

More than once, Keats has thrown me off.  Sometimes my phrasing is, \”Do you want/need a timeout?\” And sometimes Keats answers with a resounding, \”Yes,\” that seems to say, \”Well, obviously, Mama!\” before taking himself off into his room, promptly plopping down on the floor, and stating, \”Two minutes.\”

Perhaps he\’s wiser than me.  He\’s able to not only recognize when he requires a timeout, but take that time for himself.  After all, what is a timeout but a few quiet moments to gather one\’s thoughts?

My mum was in town two weeks ago.  My variation of Super Nanny: Super Nanna.  During her visits,  her boundless energy puts me to shame.  She\’s calm, confident, and consistent in the utter admiration she has for her grandsons.

When Mum visits, I always feel torn between wanting to be part of the moments she has here and wanting to take advantage of her presence to carve out time for myself.  This time, she took Keats to the playground more than once while Wren and I napped.  She played trains with Keats while I nursed Wren many times over.  She took Keats to the zoo while I wrote in a nearby coffee shop, Wren dozing alongside me in his stroller.  On that particular occasion, I\’d arranged to meet them in the rose garden adjacent to the zoo for a picnic lunch.  It was the perfect setting.  After a week of a few extra naps and a midday sojourn in the coffee shop, I could smell the roses in more ways than one.

 I don\’t need to feel guilty if Super Nanny and Super Nanna appear to maintain their calmness, confidence, and consistency more than I do.  Their interactions with the little ones are, after all, fleeting.  Mine is daily, weekly, monthly, yearly.  At the heart of it, all, I\’m extremely grateful for each moment I have, for better or for worse.  For as fleeting as my mum\’s interactions with the boys are, I know that the years, too, are fleeting.

I\’ve learned a little something that helps along the way: Toddlers need timeouts as they navigate behavior boundaries.  And so, it appears, do mamas.