The Explosive Mom

On a referral from a referral, I'm reading The Explosive Child lately (though I don't think mine was 20% off - grrr). I haven't heard someone other than me describe the Moose as accurately as the author of this book, so I figure I'd better give it a shot. Last night, during Hell Hour (the time between arriving home and bedtime in which we need to unpack, make and eat dinner, clean the kitchen, make lunches, put out clothes for tomorrow, practice piano, etc etc etc). Steve wasn't home yet, I was trying to get dinner on while the kids orchestrated their regular chaos. Elliot was having melt down after melt down after melt down, being exhausted from the weekend and the late night picking me up the night before. I decided to try the techniques in the book, which are much easier read than done of course... Three or four attempts in (that really means on the third or fourth meltdown of the ten minute span), I crouched down to a tearful Elliot's level, trying to listen to him through the hyperventalating tears and "empathize" with him as the author suggests before we can "work together" on "finding a solution" to the problem and avert the "explosion". Meanwhile, the whining over my left shoulder hit that nail-on-chalk-board pitch and volume. I turned and looked at my sweet Paxten and SCREAMED - "PAXTEN, STOP WHINING RIGHT NOW!" (which is pretty much the opposite of what the author suggests in the book). I guess I only have the wherewithal to positively parent one child at a time...

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