EMOTIONAL CONTROL
KEEP YOURSELF IN CHECK
DON’T VOMIT INTO OTHER PEOPLES SPACE (your baggage, that is. Well, I guess anything else either.)
That’s what it’s all about, right? Growing up, maturing. Respond instead of react. Try to create a time/space zone, give yourself time to think before something negative comes out of your mouth. Or at least, plan and intend to say/do the things that you say/do. There, that’s the ringer.
Sometimes easier said than done. Depending on the situation, which button it pushes. How deep that button goes. We have the silly pet peeves that make our eyes roll. We have the more important stuff that might cause our blood pressure to go up or the shoulders to become tense. Up on the scale we have the VOMIT IN SPACE, your own or someone else’s. When you really let it fly, or it really flies, or things are just all stinky.
Have you ever tried to not vomit. It’s bad news. If you haven’t, don’t. Free tip of the day that I KNOW is true. All the rest…
The point is, this type of reaction is one that you don’t have a lot of control over. It’s like the saber tooth tiger is standing in your kitchen, looking you in the eye, asking you politely…”You going to freak out or am I going to eat you?” Fight or flight. It’s a primal thing. It’s hard to apply the 10 second thing. I mean, seriously, what chance does the “10 second” thought have in getting through when your ____ is in hyper drive and in the process of taking control of your being.
Whats to do? Practice. Allow yourself in the situation again and practice. Find something that works. To help you create that time/space zone where you can maybe ask yourself, “Will he really eat me?”, “Can I shoot his…off?” “Is there another way to respond?” “Am I having any fun?” “Is this worth getting worked up about?” “Why am I reacting?”
Need an example? Got a nice one for you.
Cole likes watermelon. A lot. I bought him a little one, about the size of a softball on a dose of steroids. So I thought, ok, I’ll let him cut it up himself. (He’s six, he’s good with knives). And admittedly, I didn’t think too far into the future, to consider that the 7 year old would join. So they are both cutting the watermelon, doing good. Bird is eating some, life is good. I’m thinking, awesome. It’s all on the table. Awesome. I DO say the disclaimer, please don’t get watermelon all over the floor. Then I go downstairs to check my email. 5 minutes.
When I went back upstairs, I see them cleaning the floor. Like a boys version of Cinderella. It was kind of cute, for a nano second until I see that just about every surface of the kitchen is covered with water drops. Or watermelon drops. Who knows. I’m still “good to go” at this point, fulling in control of my SPACE.
Side note: I’m wearing my BRAND NEW running shoes. Newly bought yesterday. That I really like. BIG LIKEY.
It’s really awesome that they are cleaning up their mess, though there will be a lot of work for me. I’m totally past the eye rolling phase, solidly into blood presssure rising. WHY? Oh, I know this answer, I HATE IT WHEN PEOPLE PUT UNINVITED STUFF ON MY TO DO LIST. Especially if I’ve just cleaned the floor the day before. And it’s watermelon folks. Just slightly less worse than OJ. STICKY FLOOR. (I have this thing with floors and walking on them with bare feet.) What really gets to me as I’m doing damage control…that I might get my new shoes dirty. OMG! It’s funny and awesome and a bit disturbing all at the same time that I knew that.
And knowing why I was getting upset helped me to calmly ask them to sit and be still. And I did manage a heart felt “It was really good for you two to be cleaning up your mess.”
I did send them all into timeout for 10. 14 year old had just done something really disrespectful, so I get extra points for mufti-tasking my calmness. We had a family conversation on what went on, how mom felt, and each had a moment to say something useful. Which all went really well.
So the Point? Don’t feed the saber tooth tiger, maybe he won’t stick around playing mind games with you.
Here’s what got the watermelon everywhere.
HOLY MOTHER. Raising boys is like a circus. They like their tools. They think outside the box. And have a bit of lack of…discretion.
