Power struggles. I didn’t think we would come upon it so soon, but my quickly developing 10 month boy already knows how to demand for things. He also gets frustrated easily, a trait that I remember carrying as a child and young adult. He has my family’s fire, and it’s my turn to learn how to flow with it. Yesterday, a melt-down ensued over a juice pouch. I had handed it to him for one second so that I could grab something out of the car. I would normally hold it while he sucked on the end. By handing it to him, he felt what it was like to have power and control.

When I tried to take it back thirty seconds later because his strong tiny hands were squeezing the juice everywhere, he got his diapers in a twist. He refused to suck on the straw while I held it. He started actual-crying, with tears and all. Every time I came near him with the pouch, he pushed my hands away, kicking in distraught. Tiny hands flew up in the air and grabbed at the side of his head, as if I was causing him a migraine. Then he would grab tufts of hair on both sides and pull outwards, like he was going crazy. In fact, he WAS going crazy! Also, where did he learn that?? When the pouch came near his face, he would yank it out of my hands, which would accidentally squirt more juice onto my beautiful Nordic rug, my favorite sweater, and the glass door. Imagine a horror film with juice.

So of course, I tried to gently take it back and help him again. I tried to put it away in the fridge so that he would forget (he didn’t forget). I tried to ignore his cries and walk away from him, but he flailed more in the high chair and I’m just not sure ours (this one) could withstand a flailing 22-pound wild child. So back I came, and took him down. On the floor, he upturned my cat’s bowl, kicked the rug, and continued to thrash on the floor. So I pulled the pouch out of the fridge, which made him WILDER! Why did we think that middle name was cute??

I finally succumbed to his tear-stained face and drenched onesie (from all the drool that resulted from crying). I handed him his pouch and he calmed down. He then continued to spill juice all over the house, sticking his grubby finger in the straw trying to, I suppose, figure out how and why it comes out of the packet. To end the power struggle, I had to be the first to stop. Which is a life lesson for me, as my fire never stops burning. I’m a person trying to optimize and win. But I don’t want to be an authoritarian like my parents were. I remind myself that I want him to experience the world on his own terms and form his own opinions. In the moment, it was hard not to worry about the mess. Once I let go, I realized that the struggle was really a reflection of me. Just another case of the mondaze.

We were supposed to go on a Santa Barbara trip over the weekend, but it was canceled due to rain. Which meant that instead of being surrounded by our friends on a Monday, Casey and I were stuck at home. Rainy days used to be my favorite thing! It facilitated many activities I loved such as drinking coffee, writing, reading books, and tidying the home. However, rainy days are the worst when it comes to parenthood and infants. Getting energy out of newly mobile humans is highly dependent on the outdoors. After they’ve explored the house once, it becomes a bore. Not yet old enough to use imagination or engage in focused tasks and activities, infants get frustrated early on in the day, leaving me wondering what there is left to do.

I pulled out all the stops before his morning nap. He already touched all his toys, read his books, and walked around the house. In the afternoon, I resorted to the genius idea of plopping him on his Doona Trike, killing 15 minutes zooming around the kitchen counter and dining table. It was dizzying. Perhaps the headrush was from my excitement at discovering a new distraction technique. Other activities he found enjoyable included terrorizing the cat, banging on the glass sliding door, crying his eyes out, and unpacking all the contents of my purse. This bought me maybe 45 minutes.

Minimalism Helps

One of the things that helps me on difficult parenting days such as these is keeping an extremely tidy and minimalist home. Most of my parenthood struggles begin with not having enough space for myself. By having less clutter in the home, I am reducing the signals entering my brain which gives me more space for thinking of ways to handle a frustrated and bored babe. In preparation for things such as rainy days, I make sure the home and calendar is clear of clutter, so I can focus my energy on the task at hand: managing meltdowns indoors!

I recommend decluttering spaces to everyone as it improved my mental health tremendously. If you wish to declutter as well, take a gander at this list of 100+ things to declutter for considerations.

Presence of Mind Also Helps

In the end, it turned out to be a really good day. Part of that was my commitment to presence. Having already cleared the calendar for our trip, there wasn’t anything to do but fully engage with my son. Another of my parenthood struggles is the stress that results from trying to do too many things at once. When I have a long list of things to do, being with my son feels like a pain. I feel resentment and frustration when he needs my attention because I feel as if my tasks are more important than his. After realizing this, I started to time-block my son. By creating boundaries around tasks and separating “Casey-time” from “Sam’s To-Do”, I reduce the stress in my day. More importantly, it prevents misdirected anger from happening. Keeping an intentional time-blocking practice good for our relationship and saves me a ton of time! Check out my top ten tips for saving time here.

 I got the idea of writing about my days with Casey from another mum. You see, Mondays are OUR days. I get to spend all day with my son as I stay home from work. It is the only day I fully dedicate to him. As sad as it is to say, when I was dedicating my every day off to Casey, I couldn’t help but feel burned out and resentful. I had no days to recharge or reset. Eventually, Mike and I hired a nanny to buy ourselves personal time. But on Mondays, Casey has my full attention. I don’t get any chores done and I don’t make a to-do list. I’ll flutter around the house tidying up or take a shower during the occasional nap, but other than those slim (and getting slimmer) moments of silence, there is nothing else in my world. So it would be a shame to not remember these days that are honestly so special to Casey and I. Hence, this series. The Case of the Mondaze.

Some days with your child aren’t particularly special. I comb through the events and think to myself, “nothing really happened”. I have to remind myself that this is solely from my perspective. To them, you are more than what you give credit yourself for. They don’t hear the voice in your head telling you, you aren’t enough.

In their eyes, you were more than the person who fed them and cleaned up their mess. The pillar that supported them as they crawled up the stairs. The person who read them a bedtime story about a reliant mother bunny. You took them on a stroll outside, and flung them on the swing at the park. You were the imaginary car seat so they were tall enough to spin the steering wheel. Like cardboard, they sat on you as they slid down the slide. No static shock because of your sacrifice.

They met friends because you met mothers. You helped them find the bootie they lost, they watched you pick up the mail. Played peek-a-boo and chase. Danced in circles to the music, while laughing. They got to rock-climb the dresser because you kept the drawers shut. And create waves in the tub without worrying about drowning spills. They stood and fell, scooted and bonked their head, but they were also always picked back up and reminded the world isn’t such a scary place so that they got to sleep just fine.

These all seem like such ordinary events. But I think back to my childhood. And sometimes, the best part of my days were being woken up at 6am and seeing my dad off to work at the train station because I knew if I didn’t, I wouldn’t see him at all. Of the thousand microevents that happened today, Casey probably thinks the best part was picking up mail. But at least, I was there.

As a parent, it seems like you throw pitches and hope one sticks. You make a million memories and hope one becomes a core one. You teach a thousand lessons and pray he hears a tail-end of one. But I have to remind myself that it’s the sum of all the parts. That every invisible bit of effort you place counts. I wouldn’t have wanted to go to the train station to see my dad off if it weren’t for the Barbie play dates, the Legos, the boardgames, the silly dance contests, the singing performances, and all else that made him a dad before I went to school.

And if one day, I can’t remember what exactly I did on those Mondays off with Casey, at least I have these case files to revisit. Proof that there was something more to boring old parenthood. And reasons why he could love you.