My children, the objects

Ever read anything by the Arbinger Institute or Terry Warner? If you haven't, you should. Really. If you have, you know that it's like Pandora's box. Once open, it can't be shut. Dan and I attended an Arbinger seminar last week and it's been a heckuva week ever since.

"Why?" you ask? Well, I'll tell you. Completely oversimplified Arbinger teaches that you can respond to those around you in two different ways; you can treat people as people, or as objects. That is the choice we all have. Responding to people as people, we hear their concerns, we value them as we value ourselves and we respond to them RESPONSIVELY. If we see them as objects (obstacles, tools, or just completely irrelevant) we are RESISTANT to their needs and their humanity. For me, that happens with my kids when they misbehave (or don't behave the way I want them to) and I forget that the children I have been blessed with are WONDER-ful, that they look to me for love and acceptance, and that more than anything else, I love them very much.

So, I take the kids to a grocery store that we don't normally go to because they are they only store in the area that sells Taco Bell canned refried beans, which my kids are obsessed with. Jake is in a baby carried strapped to the front of me, the other three are on the loose doing what kids do in the grocery store. "Moooooom, can we buy this? This? No. This? NO. This? NOOOO!"

Cantaloupes are on sale for $1 each- score! We buy 5. On the the bean aisle where, as we are in the process of emptying the shelf of all the beans, a very nice-looking (hair-do, high heels, fake nails, MAKEUP) woman rounds the bend with her cart. I am instantly very aware of how I look (no makeup- let's just leave it at that) and the circus that is my three kids and the assembly-line system they've come up with for getting the beans into the cart which also includes a nifty little chant- "Beans in the cart! Beans in the cart!"

Adam, curious little genuis-in-the-making that he is stares at the contents of her basket. She looks at him with mild displeasure and I can feel my insides harden. I snap "Adam, step back!" and I realize that he has just, in ONE INSTANT, become an object to me. He has done nothing wrong, but I am very aware that I want him to leave the pretty lady alone and not draw more attention to us. I grab his arm and pull him back. She passes, throwing one last "I'm-so-glad-I'm-not-you" glance over her shoulder.

I'm mad. At who? I dont' know! Her for "making" me wish I had at least put mascara on; at my kids for being cute (in a loud sort of way). At myself, for grabbing the arm of my tender kid who is just being a kid- for treating him like something I needed to move out of her way.

It gets better. We go up to check out and whose cart slide in behind us? Bingo. But, this time, instead of giving me her grouchy look as she is walking away, she gets to stand there and try to melt me with it as she clicks her fake nails on her cart. AND, bear in mind, the same chanting ("Beans out of the cart!") assembly-line thingie has started up as we unload FORTY cans of beans and 5 cantaloupes on to the belt. I feel completely ridiculous and like I should explain to someone that I do feed my kid more than cantaloupe and beans and then Rachel smashes Johnny against the gum rack with the cart ("It was an accident Mom, I promise!") and Johnny takes a swing at her (not an accident) and Adam steps on my foot as he's trying to get past to ask me for the HUNDREDTH time if he can buy a gumball.....and they are all objects to me now. I can feel the blood pulsing and rushing to my head as I grab all three of them by various body parts and hiss "STOP! STOP NOW!" And, in my head now, the new "Arbinger Seminar Voice" (you know that voice that you hear after you figure out you're doing something you shouldn't be doing?? The one that won't shut up?? THAT voice.) asks "Stop what? Being kids? Helping me? Having fun while working together?"

Siiiigh. I was so excited when I came home from the seminar. I figured I could probably stop treating people like objects THAT WEEKEND if I put my heart into it. Now, almost a whole week later I just feel like I have 10 shirts on and 10 pairs of pants on too- restricted and aware of every movement that I make because I'm constantly asking myself if I'm treating others like objects or people. It takes a long time to change.