Buttons come in virtually every color and shape you can imagine; large half-dollar-sized red buttons, tiny square black buttons, rustic metal buttons, elegant pearl buttons. I’ve even seen buttons shaped like carrots, cowboy boots or bugs. You name it, there is a button for it. Recently while I was working on sewing an applique shirt for the baby we are expecting in May, it struck me that buttons are actually sort of like people. Each one is unique and special in its own way. Large, small, fat, thin, plain, busy, new, old and, well, you get the picture. Perhaps that is why I enjoy using buttons in my craft projects. They give my designs more personality and life. And they each have a special purpose. While a beautiful rhinestone button would look silly on a western-inspired suede jacket, it’s sparkle helps bring to life a formal gown. In this way, each of us brings our talents, our sparkle, to life in our own unique way.
As I paused and thought about this pretty silly analogy that I had discovered between buttons and people, oddly I had an “ah-hah moment.” For a fleeting instant I came to better understand some of the challenges I face day-to-day with my two girls, Elizabeth, 4, and Caroline, 2. I realized that, despite some similar qualities, we are each quite different buttons. Now, I expect that Elizabeth and Caroline might tell you that their favorite button would be a big bright pink one, or a sparkly diamond-like button, but if I had to describe them each as buttons they might not be those. To me, sweet little Caroline is a radiant yellow button, small but bright, like a ray of sunshine to those around her, bouncing around joyfully every place she goes. Elizabeth, might be a bold purple button; cheerful, energetic, imaginative and ambitious. Her button is probably a square one as she likes everything symmetrical and equal. Yet, she is still a small little button. Born at four pounds, three ounces, I will always have trouble picturing her as anything but tiny. And me? Well, at the moment in my 28th week of pregnancy, I am probably most like that big, round half-dollar sized button I mentioned earlier. But, usually I am your basic, round, medium-sized button, likely in a very safe color like beige. Practical, not wanting to grab too much attention from others, simple and quiet on the surface, but maybe with a little bit of a glimmer, as I do like to have a good time and talk far too much once you get me going.After picturing my offspring as buttons, I realized that perhaps one of the reasons we have such a difficult time understanding each other on occasion is because we are each so different. For example, what is puzzling me these days is Elizabeth’s inability to understand that it is not acceptable to hit her sister. Lately it has escalated to at least three, sometimes five or six different hitting episodes during any given day. Usually it starts with the girls happily running off to play. I hear them talking about who is going to be which princess (of course, Elizabeth always gets to be the princess and Caroline is assigned the role of Prince Charming) or they begin pretending to read books, building towers, whatever. I hear silly giggling and feel so happy that they are such good buddies. Relieved that they are playing together so I can get a couple of things done around the house, I begin cleaning up from breakfast or changing a load of laundry. And just as I am about to indulge in sitting down for a few minutes for a sip of coffee and to maybe pin a few DIY ideas onto Pinterest that I will never actually use, out of nowhere I hear Elizabeth smack Caroline on the back or the head. I storm into the living room as Caroline begins sobbing. Elizabeth explains that Caroline wasn’t giving her the mini Ariel doll that she wanted (or something of this nature), even though there are three other Ariel dolls that Elizabeth already has in her hand. Sometimes the hitting happens even when I am standing right next to both of them. Most recently it was because Caroline was upset because she kept asking me for suckers and I kept telling her that, “We don’t eat suckers before breakfast.” Elizabeth, who didn’t like that Caroline was crying about it, yelled “NO CAROLINE, WE DON’T EAT SUCKERS BEFORE BREAKFAST”, then smacked her on the head. The rest is usually pretty ugly. I end up yelling like the mean lady I used to see in Target before I had kids and swore I would never become, pick Elizabeth up under my arm like a football, carry her to her room and say something brilliant like, “Time out! There is NO HITTING. How many times do I have to tell you this?” Elizabeth usually has some smart remark like, “Twenty-ten times, Mommy.” I’m not sure what kind of answer I expect from such a stupid question. I have tried everything from time-outs to toys and privileges being taken away to positive reinforcement, rewards charts and (though it kills me to admit it) even spanking, of which I have always been a huge opponent. I simply can’t understand why this very smart, very talented, usually sweet little girl, can’t understand that hitting her sister is not allowed. And, I can’t figure out why I can’t find a way to help her change her behavior. I am, afterall, thirty-some years older and smarter than she is!
While in my “people are like buttons” world, I realized that in those moments of fury after Caroline gets sucker-punched, I was forgetting that Elizabeth is not a mature grown-up button, but just a wee, tiny button. I needed to see the world from her small little baby button perspective. I needed to embrace the fact that while I wanted her to be able to think through and control her emotions the way an adult can, she is not capable of thinking like a mommy button or even a big girl button.
I would love to tell you that this realization that people are like buttons has helped me solve the problems I am having with Elizabeth hitting. It is still a work in progress. But, it has helped me remember that my little Elizabeth is only four years old. In her baby-button world the things that cause her to be so frustrated that she must hit her sister may seem very insignificant to me, but to her they are very important. I must use my grown-up button smarts to help calmly teach her the right reaction instead of losing my cool myself and end up reacting in a way I will certainly regret. Those times when I have lost control only teach her the opposite of what I am really trying to get across to her. Funny how sometimes just looking at something in a different way, a much simpler way, can help give you a new perspective on things. While I still get very frustrated in those post-hitting moments, I have been able to force myself to stop and look at the situation from Elizabeth's small view of the world before launching into a tirade about why abusing your sweet little baby sister makes you a mean person. Certainly an outburst that I would feel guilty about for days.
Ironically, as I was finishing up this entry Caroline picked up the fabric-cutting scissors that I accidentally left on the table after starting a new baby bib. I yelled to little Caroline, “No honey, those are mommy’s scissors. Please put them down.” When she took off with them I yelled, “No running with scissors!” Elizabeth decided to yell the same thing and chase after her hitting her on the back because she was not listening. In that instant it was difficult to picture her as a baby button and stay cool, but, at least for today, momma button didn’t come undone.
