Sharing the Imperfect Moments

"Anyone who has never made a mistake has never tried anything new." ~ Albert Einstein

I guest blogged for Flo Gascon, today, and it was a tough post to write. It is about one of my worst parenting difficulties (and one that I was concerned about avoiding almost all my life). To think of it (even though it is in the past) makes me regretful, ashamed and horrified, as I told Flo, "...that I saw that train wreck coming and did not - could not - pull my children out of the way of it"; they were not kept from harm, though I hope that they did not suffer permanent damage.

It was both hard to write, because of the shame and horror (of it happening despite my fears and attempt to avoid), and yet it came out easily, because it was something I'd been keeping inside for a long time and I needed to let it go. Funny thing, writing... At least for me. It can be nearly as vivid in the retelling/reliving as the actual events/experience, bringing me emotionally to exactly the same place again. And yet, writing has always been therapeutic for me. There is something so natural about the flow of thoughts, emotions, images, sights, scents, sounds & sensations from my brain through my arm into my fingers and then onto paper or into keys and onto the screen. It is one of the few things I can't seem to describe fully - at least to my satisfaction - or convey to someone else. I don't know if it is a "writer" thing (you'd think I'd discuss that kind of thing with other writers! :~) ) or if my skills are just inadequate. But I digress...

As I also told Flo, I feel that the process, the mistakes, the flaws should be shared more with other parents. As hard as it was to write, and as hard as it is knowing that other people are learning of my worst parenting difficulty, I feel it is important to say, for the sake of others. When I first started looking into radical unschooling, I continually felt lacking and "not good enough", because all I read on the groups was perfect success stories of perfect mamas with unending patience, continual energy to fulfill all their children's needs & no lack of ideas for solutions and exciting plans and amazing games and the ability to boost their children's interests with innumerable "connections" (as in, this things leads to that thing, which leads to the next thing). Of course, I know better, now, but there was a time where I nearly gave up on radical unschooling/respectful, gentle parenting because I didn't feel like I was the right personality type, like I wasn't perfect enough to succeed. I believe that more experienced unschoolers and gentle parents need to step up and share their non-stellar moments & experiences and tell those who are just starting out, "You're going to screw up. I screwed up. You may screw up horribly, but if you keep at it and get back on track when you slip up, and keep doing better, you'll get there; and your kids will be better knowing that you're not perfect, either, that you make mistakes, too, and they'll love you more for trying to be a better parent.

That's not to say that "anything goes" and that I'm patting anyone on the back and saying, "Good job.", "You're doing the best you can.", or "Well, you tried." I am saying to keep in mind when you stumble that nobody's perfect, no matter what it seems like when you're reading about better parenting. Everyone has made mistakes, but the reason that there are folks with experience to give good advice and help others be better parents is because they didn't wallow when they slipped. They got up, dusted themselves off, and tried again - most likely, they tried harder. They looked up from the mistake to focus on the goal they were aiming for and went forward. :~)

That is one of the reasons I started this blog in the first place: because I didn't see enough of the mistakes (learning-takes) and errors and "failures" - in fact, I don't remember seeing any. Mistakes aren't optimal and they're not the focus, but knowing that those who have gone before you have fallen repeatedly and struggled to continue along the path of their journey to find success along the way makes it so much easier to pick ourselves up and find the determination to continue on when we stumble. 

Time and Again

Time. Really, basically, it is just an idea, not something tangible… Yet how powerful it is! Like the wind or fire, it can be soothing,  destructive, beneficial, distressing… It has a definition known to all and is yet an enigma. Maybe all this is why time is so fundamental, so significant in our society. Maybe our very mortality is the cause for the constant discussion and perusal, vilifying and worshiping of time. 

I think most of us move along our path of life looking forward. Likely, this is why milestones stir up feelings of nostalgia; they are a huge mile marker that has us pause to consider, which so often includes at the least, a glance back to see how far we’ve come. When your path has been joyful and interesting, it is more likely than not that the traveler will be quite surprised at the distance, the time that has become “the past” imperceptibly.

I didn’t start out this blog with the intention of so many of my words referring to that passage, those benchmarks, the looking back… and yet, it seems that has more impact in my psyche than I’d expected – and I knew how sentimental I was long before there was such a thing as “blog”.

Our youngest, Storm, is nearing 7½. Dave and I have recently begun starting quite a few sentences with, “I remember when… “ :~) Today was another bittersweet look back in surprise of where the time has gone; far, far more sweet with just a taste of sadness at what will never be again (though as I write this, more and more of those “never again” moments pop into my brain… ).

Storm has had quite a variety of sleeping arrangements. Far more than Wyl, though Wyl’s were much more like “leaps” than small adjustments. Wyl slept *hard* through the night from birth. I was a new mama and still feeling my way and when the well-meaning doctor told me that he needed to eat every 4 hours (me, being the people-pleaser/Good Patient I was), set my alarm and attempted to schedule breastfeeding. We tried *everything* we could think of: putting the nipple in his mouth while he slept, trying a bottle, making silly voices, taking off his onesie in a cool room and making him cold, jiggling him upright, talking with him loudly, tipping him upside down, sticking his hand in lukewarm water; in cold water, wiping his face with a wet washcloth… We’d spend an hour, sometimes, trying to wake that boy – never worked *once*. We still had some old-fashioned ideas that we were trying to meld with our new ones we were picking up with attachment parenting ideals we were reading & hearing about. Dave and I are both big people – both frame-size and weight – and though we were willing to accept co-sleeping, the possibility of the 2 of us or one of us smashing our baby in the night was too scary to attempt. So, he slept in his crib in his room during the night and we co-napped in the afternoon. At 2, he was climbing over the rail of his crib and falling on the hardwood floor below. He wasn’t getting hurt, but I was worried he would. Again, I still had in-the-box thinking and though I scolded him, the only solution I could think of was to put him in his own bed, since the distance was closer to the floor and had a pieced-together rug under it. Around 4 years old, he began to fear the dark and kept turning on the light after I’d tucked him into bed. I again scolded, taped the lightswitch down, and finally removed the lightbulb from the overhead light. Why I couldn’t think of the dozens of alternatives I can *now*, I don’t know, but it wasn’t a happy solution.

About that time, I started learning about unschooling and partnership-parenting and hearing “wild”, out-of-the-box ideas and my thinking started shifting. For quite a while, Wyl slept downstairs on the couch. Or, on the floor in a nest next to the couch. Sometimes, we’d take him up when one of us went to bed, but for the most part, he slept downstairs where parents & light were. The next sleeping spot was in a bed next to ours. That kept on for several years, working fairly well (though sometimes problematic, with Wyl having trouble keeping calm and quiet enough to keep from waking other family members up) with a few guidelines coming up as they were needed to keep it a win-win situation.

Around 11-12 years old, he began moving toward puberty and somewhere in his 12^th year, he decided he wanted to sleep in his own room, again. I left space for  him in our room, should he feel a need (briefly for a night here & there or for several nights, a week, whatever he needed) to come back or need reassurance. Though, once his decision was made, it seems he knew he was ready for it, because he hasn’t slept there, since – and he’s just a few weeks from 14, now.
Storm, on the other hand… I smile warmly at the thoughts… First, he slept on my chest under my hospital gown in the NICU. I was ever so thankful that the nurses either “allowed” me to hang out in the nursing room off the NICU nursery or that they “forgot” that I was there with a baby out of the crib. Sometimes, I’d get a couple hours in, dozing lightly while he slept peacefully right under my chin on my bare skin, all curled up in a tight little ball. They’d come in and take him and say they needed to get stats and I’d go lie in my room and nap for a bit until I could pump again or visit again. (Maybe some day, they’ll bring the NICU to the mama’s room, so the baby and mama can actually be together all the time… I hope…! )

When we finally got to bring him home, 5½ years of learning after the first baby, we’d come much further in our understanding of co-sleeping, but we still opted for a bassinette right beside me, pushed up against the bed. He seemed *so* frail! Wyl was a big, robust baby, but Storm, being a preemie, was so thin and different than Wyl had been at that age. He curled up in there in his “signature pose”, a tight little ball on his belly, just as he had on my chest.

The bassinette worked for about 2 weeks. Then, I could lower him into it all the way to the mattress, awake or asleep, but the moment my hands started to move away from him or he touched or sensed that mattress in there, he burst out crying! A few times I attempted to make it work, thinking it was an isolated incident, but it was quickly clear that the bassinette would not do, so into our bed he came – curled up in that tight little tummy-ball. The crib was in our room, too, along with our queen-sized bed and Wyl’s double bed (plus 3 dressers!), but I don’t remember if we tried to move him from the bassinette to the crib before he came to our bed, or if that was just a standby. (There was a lot of missing sleep and my memory isn’t the best, anyway… :~)  ) Many nights, we’d move him to the crib after he fell asleep in our bed, and on the rare occasion he couldn’t be calmed in the night, we’d bring him back.

I’ll digress at this point to mention that I don’t really know what the definition of “sleeping through the night” *really* means. Clearly, Wyl did that, by any definition of the phrase, never waking – even now, he’s probably only woken in the middle of the night less than 10 times in his life. Getting him to sleep was sometimes rough, but once he was asleep, he was down for the count. Storm, however, would fuss a bit and/or cry out, though not usually coming full awake and could be back-rubbed or cuddled (or moved to the bed) back to sleep, usually in moments. I could probably count the times my sleep was actually disturbed by his night “adjustments” on both hands. I never really counted that as being outside “sleeping through the night”, though recently, sometimes I wonder what it truly means.

When Storm was somewhere around a year old, he preferred the crib. He was happy to snuggle in the bed with someone until he got sleepy, but then he’d fuss and toss and grouch until he was in the crib and then he’d sigh, turn over and go right to sleep. After a while, he figured out to gesture & point to the crib when he was ready to fall asleep! I was so astounded at first – from all I’d read, babies didn’t *ask* to be put in a crib alone!! But, that’s what he wanted.

It didn’t last *too* long, though I’m not sure how long it was. He started coming & crawling into the bed when he stirred in the night, then he decided he wanted to sleep with us again. Occasionally, he’d want to sleep in the crib again, but most of the time it was in “the big bed”.

At one point, we got a loft bed, trying to make a separate space for everybody, since Storm was always tall for his age and *I* felt the crib was too small for him. Yet, even after the loft was there, after Wyl moved into his own room leaving even more empty space, Storm wanted his crib. It was draped with dark blankets in a tent-style (top & sides) to keep out the cats & block the light, so maybe it was the “coziness” of it, I don’t know.

Eventually, he left the crib behind (he was quite a ways into his 6^th year), unsure, yet firmly deciding to put it away – he enjoyed helping me take it down! :~) He moved into the double bed & we draped it all over like the crib had been, put in a string of dark purple lights, used the sheets he wanted… basically made it *his* space to his specifications. Yet, every once in a while, he will mention wistfully that he misses his crib…

A couple months ago, he decided he wanted to try to sleep in his (single) bed in his room. Dave hung out in there with him, but after a short while, he decided it was too noisy (our room is in the back of the house, Storm’s is right in the front, just feet from the street), with all the cars going by.

A week/week and a half ago, he decided to try sleeping in his own bed in his own room again. He hasn’t said anything specifically, but I get the feeling he has the idea that he is getting “too big” to sleep in our room. Plus, he’s really wanting to have friends sleep over, and I pointed out recently that he probably didn’t want to leave a friend alone in his room while he, Storm, came & slept with me. :~)

We made things all cozy to his delight, me giving him ideas to help make him comfortable in there (like having a small fan running to help block the noise) and when my back started hurting from hunching over there, I reminded him he could stay all night or come sleep with me whenever he needed, then went to wait in bed. I only waited a few minutes. :~) He was back and disappointed and complaining the fan was too loud. I reassured him and was happy to snuggle him a while.

Tonight, he wanted to try again. I needed a nap & went up early, so Dave stayed with him while I was sleeping. I fully expected to wake with him in the next bed, but when I did wake, I was alone.

I thought about parents I’d seen on t.v. shows, struggling to get their kids to stay in their own beds or their own rooms through the night and how they’d likely cheer, but I was a little sad. Just a tiny little bit, for the time passing too quickly for my liking. I am too comforted by the ideas that this is how it is supposed to be: children growing up smoothly, making transitions from stage to stage seamlessly, happily without struggle. This is what is *supposed* to happen – they grow up with our guidance with as little stress as possible; that is my job as their mama: to make it a journey that is tackled with me, as their partner and guide.

And yet…

As Storm snuggled with me, a bit sadly (he feels these milestones, too – all too much his mother’s child in that department! :~)  ), it cheered him as I talked about all the ways he’d slept over the years. I smiled softly as I told him how much I’ve enjoyed snuggling with him and we discussed all the different ways we could *still* snuggle, even if he slept in his own bed.

And, 6 hours after he was asleep in his own bed, he’s still there. Another milestone I wasn’t ready for. It *may* not be completely past, yet, but we’re there. I am awfully pleased with the people my children are growing to be… I am ever so grateful to have them in my life and to have a good relationship with both of them… Yet, I sure would love to nurse that baby again… bathe a wiggling little chubby boy again… discover a soap bubble blown from a wand with him for the first time again… hold a tiny little newborn baby and feel the weight of importance of responsibility and the awesomeness of new life in my arms again…

Time.

As my time as a closely nurturing mama coming to a close (and new times open), benchmarks like these, replete with the inevitable wanderings through the past, spurs me to grab the moment, do my best, to make the most of *this* moment… It will be gone in a flash, with nary a chance to “do it right” again.

Now is the time. 

Milestones

I started discussing this on Facebook, then realized my kids both have accounts and could possibly run across what I was writing... ! If they know about my blog, they don't know how to get to it. I think.

Storm's tooth has been loose for a few weeks, now. We've been keeping an eye on it. Not very loose, but last week, it got a bit wigglier. Tuesday night, after his teeth were brushed, we noticed a big difference in the movement - it was really loose! Wednesday afternoon, he'd come to me occasionally with how wiggly it was, testing it, chatting casually about it and really just touching base with me about his tooth. Toward late afternoon, he was wiggling it a lot and I jokingly said something about him pulling it out. He immediately grabbed it with his index finger and thumb and... well, anyone who's ever tugged on a slippery, smooth tooth knows how well that works. I offered the information that he could use his shirt tail for better grip, if his fingers were slipping, if he wanted to. He had a hard time getting his shirt in his mouth and something caught his attention and he was off.

Now, mind you, in all these weeks - heck, all his life - we've not mentioned the Tooth Fairy. I had issues with TF (as I've been calling the Tooth Fairy this week) when Wyl was little, but overcame those with good advice and wonderful stories from other folks. Since we've come to a more balanced, trust-based relationship with our kids, I've also quit telling them all about things - especially legendary things like Santa, TF, Harry Potter and Hogwarts, Thor, etc. I like to answer questions they have with "What do you think?" And wait for more specific questions for which they don't have an answer or opinion before I give information. Even then, I like to give general information and include lots of different things I've heard, so they can decide what to think, what to believe.

Wednesday night, right before heading up to prep for bed and snuggle together for sleeping, Storm was coming in from the little pool we put up in the back yard, shivering, and talking about his tooth. He said something about wanting to pull it and I suggested his towel. I think the towel was too big. He couldn't seem to get a grip on it. He turned away and a moment later he was quietly saying with wonder, "My tooth is out!" (Again, SO different from Wyl - my oldest would have been shouting and yelling and giddy. :~D ) He had been wiggling it back and forth and it just popped loose! He inspected it. He gave it to me to inspect while he felt the hole in his mouth. He showed his brother his hole and his tooth. He showed Daddy his tooth. He brought it to me and said, "We need to put this under my pillow tonight for the tooth fairy!"

Uh... Okay... ! So, I'm scrambling to figure out how (since it has been a few years since I last had a tooth under a pillow to deal with) much the going rate is (posted to Facebook), trying to find the half dollars and silver dollars I had stashed for Wyl, while Wyl is kindly helping Storm get ready for bed. I'm thinking I *have* to do this right after he falls asleep, or I'll forget! Which means, I need to find the stuff and take it up with me, in moments...
In the middle of my scramble, Storm comes down and says he doesn't want to put the tooth under his pillow tonight, because he wants to keep it for a while more. While I'm relieved I have some extra time to work it out, I'm also intrigued. I don't think I would have thought of that, as a kid. Things were done by a certain structure and with specific rules and I learned to know those rules and follow them without question, so I didn't miss out on anything.

We talked today (thanks, Meredith!) about where he learned about the tooth fairy, what he knew (he thinks the tooth fairy "... brings random amounts like $20.58 or $50.10" I'm not sure if he thinks it is actually that *high* of an amount, or if he was just using nice, round numbers to clarify the change... We talked about what she wore, if she had a wand, if she had wings, if she glittered... I loved hearing his take on the TF! He told me he wanted to write a note to TF, telling her he wanted to keep the tooth for a while, and at first, I thought the note was a "substitute tooth", where he'd put that in place of the tooth and get his money. As I talked with him, though, I got this urgency feeling - like he felt he needed to let her know before it was "too late"... like there was a deadline. He also wanted to leave the tooth *in* the envelope with the note as "proof" that he'd lost it, and wasn't just writing a note to get money. I *really* don't know where he got that idea... I told him that he was an honest person and I'm sure the TF would believe him, but he could put the tooth in there, too, if he wanted.

So, tonight, when it came time to write the note, he told me he decided he wanted to keep it another day. (He loves that tooth! He loves the hole in it and the bloody stump and everything! He is amazed by it and really thinks it is cool... ) So, we wrote a note (he dictated, I just moved the pen):

"I lost a tooth but I have decided to keep it a day longer and I hope you trade it in for cash like you're supposed to , if you are real.

And I hope you get this.

FROM STORM

TO Toothfairy"

(The all caps are his writing) Then, he put "FS" on the envelope and told me, "That means 'from Storm'" and zipped upstairs to put it under his pillow.

I brought the note down with me, after he fell asleep, because my memory is pretty bad, and I wanted to answer it, but I left the envelope under his pillow, just in case he woke and felt for it. :~D I put together 2 brief rough drafts, trying to disguise my handwriting, then the one that was supposed to be the *actual* note, I wrote too big on and ran out of space, and then reverted to cursive on the last word, so I had to do it over. :~D I settled for plain, white paper with purple marker writing... but I REALLY wanted to go all out, with purple paper and glitter and stickers and beautifully printed font... Ahh, alas... the disappointments of a procrastinator.

Anyhow, I replied (in beautiful purple marker and handwriting from my teen years - minus the circle-dotted "i"s... ):

"Dear Storm,
Thank you *so* much for your note! I am happy you'd like to keep your tooth for a while longer. I like teeth, too!

If you ever decide you don't want your tooth any more, you can give it to your mama and she can figure out what to do with it.
From ToothFairy"

Then, on a different envelope (why don't I have purple envelopes?!), I put FTF. :~D We decided on one Susan B. Anthony silver dollar and one presidential gold dollar. Still coins, yet more than a quarter.

I really love doing little things like this for my kids. I don't really know if they enjoy it or not... I don't know if it will ever be one of those "keepsake memories" for them, as they get older... But, I enjoy it. Even if they don't enjoy these little things individually, specifically, they are all small ingredients in a happy childhood, a happy life. I like butter in my chocolate chip cookies and a bit of salt. I like to add coconut, chopped nuts and bourbon vanilla. I like to make sure there's a *wee* bit more chocolate chips than the recipe on the bag calls for. Some people notice, some don't. I do it because I like to, and because I like them that way. :~) You could probably leave that teaspoon of salt out of the chocolate chip cookies or use vanilla flavoring instead of extract or use shortening instead of butter and they'd still be good to eat. But, little snippets of this and that can make what would be a regular cookie into a wonderful, delicious experience that makes someone say, "Wow! I had a wonderful cookie! I don't know what was in it, but *man*, it was great!" My kids will know they had a great childhood. They may not be able to pick out the specific little tidbits or ingredients that made it so or they may; it doesn't matter. The "what" is vastly more important than the "why", for me.

Listening

Funny how ideas about parenting change after becoming a parent. I thought I would be teaching my children to listen to me... funny. Turns out, one of the most important things I could learn as a parent was how to listen. Sometimes, I still have occasions where I struggle to shut my mouth and listen, but I am always better off when I do.

I am naturally an impulsive person. I struggled long and hard to pause before jumping in with full gusto or speaking without considering my words first. In my eagerness to share my knowledge with people, especially my kids, sometimes I forget myself and jump right in with both feet. Knowledge is often a good stew: something that is better when bits and pieces are added as needed, and stirred and left to simmer and bubble for a long time.

I've learned to not answer a question immediately, to pause and let it hang in the air a bit, sometimes. I've learned to stop launching into an immediate instructional "rant", and offer small bits and wait for them to be incorporated before checking to see if more might be needed. One of the most valuable things I've learned is to ask, "What do you think?"

So often, when my kids ask me a question, it is their way of opening a dialogue, of getting something started so *they* can tell *me* what is on their mind. Questions like, "Do the people who work in the store stay there all day - do they sleep there?" and "Do bunnies brush their teeth", get amazing answers if I ask, "What do you think?", and I often learn a whole lot about the subject and my kids.

Last night, while lying down with Storm, we had the DS on for light. On the hour, it gives a little chime, which Storm really likes (I do, too!). After it chimed for 10:00, he sat up and looked over to it; the face of the DS was turned away from the bed, but the radio alarm clock was facing us. He laid back down and after a pause asked, "Why does the DS have a 12 when the chime happens, but the other one says ten oh oh?" (Storm can tell time on an analog clock, but has difficulty with a digital and Wyl can read a digital but not an analog)

I explained about how the "analog" face on the DS showed the hour by not having "minutes after", and that if we waited a minute and the hand clicked one dot, it would be a minute after, but the hand being straight up at the 12 meant that it was exactly 10, with no minutes after. He immediately chimed in with, "And when it is a minute after on the other clock, it will be ten oh one! -Look! It *is*!!"

So, I thought I'd go a little further with the time thing and said that there were 60 minutes in an hour and he seemed to have known that, but maybe forgotten it. I asked if he knew what half of 60 was. He thought, "Half of 6 is 3... so 30." Pretty good for a 6 year old, I thought. I said, "Some people, when it is 10:30 or 9:30 or 3:30 will say it is 'half past' or 'half past the hour', because 30 minutes is half of the 60 minutes in the hour."

He digested that for a bit and I asked, "Do you know what half of a half is?", trying to figure out how to get to "quarter after" in a way he'd understand. No pause, he *knew* that, "A quarter". Wow. I had no idea he knew that! I find it is way cooler to find out my kids know stuff this way, rather than being "instructional" and rattling off facts and information like an encyclopedia and having them huff at me and say, "I KNOW that, Mama!" and roll their eyes. Way cooler. So, I asked, "Can you figure out a quarter of 60? Half of the half?" while I'm digging around in my head, trying to figure out if I can relate that to him and how...

"Well, half of 3 is one and a half..." What?!! My six year old knows fractions?! Who the heck knew?! So, as one of us mumbled something about 30 and 15, I was trying to jump-start my stunned brain into function again as Storm said excitedly, "I'm going to count as high as I can in math!" And proceeded: "Two plus two is four. Four plus four is eight, eight plus eight..."

That is so often how discovery and learning happens in my own head: main question, supposition, smaller questions, ideas, more questions, "ah-ha!"... so I guess it really isn't that surprising that it works externally as well, and is very much more satisfying to have a back-and-forth dialogue with my kids, rather than me spouting off and them being quiet and *possibly* listening while I get on my soapbox and "generously" hand down my knowledge. I suspect it builds a better relationship, as well.

A Reading Storm

"The master in the art of living makes little distinction between his work and his play, his labor and his leisure, his mind and his body, his information and his recreation, his love and his religion. He hardly knows which is which. He simply pursues his vision of excellence at whatever he does, leaving others to decide whether he is working or playing. To him he's always doing both." — James A. Michener

I never got to see the process of learning to read with Wyl. I know I tell this story all the time, but it is *so* important to our unschooling... I had grand plans of homeschooling Wyl's beginning reading... From the time we were considering homeschooling when he was 2-ish, I had visions of bright colored crayons, that manila paper with the red and blue dotted lines for beginning writers, letter charts, sitting with him at the kitchen table (yeah, I hear some of you laughing out there! It's all *true*!), working patiently, *teaching* him his letters, how to write, and eventually how to read. I had thoughts of Dick and Jane books, hours spent benevolently sharing my knowledge with my dear, firstborn son... just he and I... Well, of course, with my own schooling ideas having never been challenged, I figured those things would start in our homeschool Kindergarten year, which wouldn't start until September the year he turned 6, according to our state laws. Wyl wasn't having any of *that*.

I had loved (still do) reading to him... Dave started reading a little book to him every night when we found out I was pregnant. Every night, Dave would lie his head on my belly and read a little Dr. Seuss or some other children's book. Then, after the upheaval of new person in the house, we started reading again when he was several weeks old. Dave or I, every night, reading a little something. I think Dave felt it was more of an obligation, something that needed to be done like changing diapers. :~D So, as the books got longer and with less pictures, Dave read less and less. When Wyl was 5, I had been the only one reading for some time. We were still reading every night, and about the time he turned 5, we were on the Laura Ingalls series. I had always loved reading books about kids my age, and Little House in the Big Woods saw Laura at 4 & I think she had her 5th birthday in it as well. It's been a while. I forget. :~) So, one night, we're lying there in bed, reading and Wyl says, "Let me see that a minute", gesturing for the book. I hand it over to him and he proceeds to read several paragraphs, without stammering or struggling except on an extremely big word or two, then hands it back and says, "Okay, that's all I want to do. You read, now." Wow. I mean, I know he'd been reading "dairy" and "cheese" and things like that at the grocery store, and "stop" on the stopsigns and such, but it never happened how I had pictured: small, simple sentences at first, sounding out words, slowly getting longer and longer sentences, more complex and multi-syllable words... no. Wyl got a basic grasp, then he did some sort of processing in his head, and *boom*, he was *reading*. Fumbling blindly with my concepts and ideas for a bit after that, I bought him a Dick and Jane compilation book, which he enjoyed (I think he found it kind of weird and comic), but really, he pretty much went from 0 to 1st grade readers instantly. At least externally. I have no idea what went on *inside* his head. :~)

Which is why Storm's process is kind of a retro-thrill for me: I get to SEE it happening! Wyl knew his alphabet entirely (from the song and recitation) by the time he was 2. With Storm, I've gotten to see, "Hey! That's an 'H'!" and other letter recognition. Questions, too - Wyl
never asked much questions, but with Storm, the process has been a sharing of knowledge. Storm very clearly uses phonics. We never used any phonics books or games with him, though Sesame Street does use a bit of phonics, but Wyl watched *far* more Sesame Street than Storm ever did. It just is how he processes the information.

Storm went through a little disappointment period a while back: he was upset because he "couldn't read". He lives in a house with readers: 2 adults and a brother 5 1/2 years older who's reading at or near adult level. No wonder he felt "left out". I tried to assure him that he would read when his brain was ready, but that clearly wasn't what he needed to hear... he was still upset. He had already recognized word-symbols like Wal*Mart and Lego and Sesame Street, so I sat down and wrote some words I knew that he recognized and some I thought he did: Mama, Wyl, storm, WalMart, cat, etc. He did recognize one or two and I helped him figure out what the others were and that seemed to satisfy him. *I* believe(d) that his beginning reading process was already started, and that he was "reading" in a beginning fashion, so maybe that helped: because I believed.

I ran across that page in the notebook recently, and he knew more of those words, and the others he surprised me by sounding out! We'd not done any of the "S sounds like ssssss" kind of thing, so I thought it was really cool that he'd picked that up.

(Storm "reading" - sorry it's so dark!)Storm's not as fond of reading *every* night, and Wyl and I are kind of on a summer hiatus with reading: we have other things to do in the warm weather besides curling up with a good book, and we can't really decide what we want to read next. SkippyJohn Jones got Storm more interested in reading at night more often, but he's far from an "every night" kinda person. Bummer. Sometime in the last few weeks, I'd *finally* gotten him to okay me reading Dr. Seuss' ABCs: a book Wyl adored when he was younger; so much so, I have it memorized. :~D I'd been asking and asking Storm if I could read it to him and he kept saying no. So, one night I said I wanted to read it very bad, that I hadn't read it in a long time and I liked it: would he mind if I read it out loud to *myself*? Well, he was okay with that, and let me read it all the way through. I'm really glad, because now *he* likes it, and has requested it very often, since!

Tonight, Wyl was snuggling with Storm before we really got down to the sleeping part, and Wyl requested a book. There was some debate, because Wyl wanted to hear SkippyJohn Jones, but Storm was resisting. Dr. Seuss' ABCs was suggested by one of them and they were *both* happy to have that as the choice (just as I was about to offer to read 2! :~) ) and that *really* made me smile: my 11 year old still wants to hear me read Dr. Seuss. :~) So, somehow, in the last few readings, we've started naming our *own* things we think of that start with the letter we're on. Storm likes "apple" for A... not surprising, as he loves apple slices. He is amazing me with his grasp of "beginning letters"... last night, when we finished "ear, egg, elephant", he thought for a moment and said, eight. "Wow!" I said, "That's right! That's really good, because 'eight' sounds more like it starts with an 'A'!" I was really stunned that he knew that! I know, I shouldn't be, but like I said, this external process is new to me. :~) He really picked out some good ones in the last couple nights, amazing me with his grasp of "C" vs. "K" and "H" sounds, too. I even goofed on "N" and said "knee" and then realizing my mistake, switched to "knuckle". LOL

I'm so glad I was able to reassure Storm when he had concerns and he was able to go through his process in his time and his way. It still amazes me to see it: kind of like taking the back off of a winding-watch and seeing it move and work while you're watching. So fascinating and cool! Storm's always been a cautious, feeling-his-way kind of person, until he's comfortable with the parameters and knowing, from his own exploration, what can happen and how it works. So, I guess it really shouldn't surprise me that he tends in a phonics, sounding-out kind of direction. Seeing it all unfold sure is wonderful, though... It makes me excited to see what's coming next!

Unschooling Math!

To be nobody but myself -- in a world which is doing its best, night and day, to make you everybody else -- means to fight the hardest battle which any human being can fight, and never stop fighting. -E.E. Cummings, poet (1904-1962).

..

Have I mentioned I love Unschooling? Some days just are such an example, I kind of wish I had someone I needed to convince, since I now have "proof".
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The boys and I were at my parents' house today, having eaten then run about the yard then played with the giant frisbees with Grandaddy, they settled down a bit to more detailed activity. We were gathered on their back porch, my mother working on finishing details of the shorts she had sewn the boys, my dad and I were talking. Wyl found some small and medium boxes Grandma had sitting around for disposal and immediately set about gathering scissors, cellophane & duct tape, marker and other odds and ends from Grandma, and set about making some furniture

(disclaimer: I am obligated to tell you that this is not finished, yet!)
.................................... ........................ (vv television on side wall vv and...

and dwelling areas for his Snorlax Pokemon. Gee... I wish I'd have gotten a

picture in the afternoon sun! After the handle broke off the big pair of scissors Wyl was using, Grandma got out her small knife (Exacto knife? Stanley knife? not sure what is "common" vernacular...)

and Snorlax at fireplace following-note tiny

bit of chimney at top of picture, please vv)

(vv Displaying stairs, here vv ............ and ^^ here ^^)

and took direction from him, cutting out parts from a giant oatmeal cardboard "canister" and various boxes.

It took Storm a bit more "energy expenditure" to settle down to something more finite. With my kids, they seem to have HUGE amounts of almost-volatile energy that cannot be contained. They have an almost endless supply of this energy. It takes a *lot* of large body movement (running, jumping, climbing, trampoline), loud voices and big body gesturing (kicking, punching, arm-waving) as well as creative thinking All At The Same Time to seemingly "convert" that energy into a more channeled, finer-dexterity, precise-creative-thinking mode. And it doesn't last for long. Apparently, it builds up while they're in a "smaller movement" mode and soon they're up and off again. Even after 10 years, it is still *amazing* to me how *much* energy there is contained in such a small-ish person. I can't even imagine that much energy in an Andre the Giant-sized person!!! It seems to be many people's worth of energy. It makes me think of the big bang theory, with the big release of pent-up energy before things whirled down to a more "organized energy" kind of existence.

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At any rate, Storm is still very much a "large energy" kind of person. He may always be... So, it took him a little while longer and a lack of another "big energy" person along side to refocus in a more finite way. As he slowed, he saw a 30' tape measure Grandad had left lying near the back porch. He started to pull the tape out to play with it when I reminded him that he should probably ask the owner of something that didn't belong to him. My dad is very particular about his tools, so I was concerned Storm would need distracted into another interesting item, and I watched as he took it over to my dad and asked if he could play with it.

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My dad asked him what he wanted to do with it. I figured he's 4, he didn't really have a plan, but he thinks quickly and he decided he wanted to measure himself. Grandad cajoled him out of the tape measure, telling him he "couldn't" measure himself, as the tape was above his eyes and he couldn't *see* it. It almost turned into an argument, but Storm seemed to decide that he'd rather have what time he could wrangle with the tape measure rather than risk Grandaddy taking it and putting it away because Storm wouldn't "cooperate".

Grandad measured him and told him he was 46". Storm wanted to see. Grandad held out the tape and showed him where the 46 was and Storm seemed pleased with that. He suddenly decided he wanted to count it. I've heard him count to 10 and heard him try to count through the teens. Those darn "11" "12" and "13" are just out of place! They don't sound like anything else (okay, maybe thirteen... but still... three = thirt-?") and they've given both my boys trouble. But, we've not pushed or quizzed on counting and so that was the scope of my knowledge.

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He started out at the end and began, "One. Two. Three...." all the way through ten and as usual, skipped over 11, 12, 13. So, my schooled-logical mind has assumed that because he "can't" or isn't counting 1-20 by each number in its place, that he isn't yet able to count higher than 20. Durn school-thought.

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As I said, he skips from 10 to 14 and goes on through to 20, where I didn't think he'd go beyond. What do you know? He didn't even *pause*, "Twenty-One. Twenty-Two. Twenty-Three..." my focus sharpened. What would happen when he got to 29? Well, duh, Mama. Next is, "Thirty." I had no idea. He kept going. He got a bit stuck on 50, not knowing how to pronounce it, but seeming to know that "Five - tee" was not right. I asked if he needed a little help. "Yes, Mama, please." I told him "Fifty" and he was off for some more. He needed a bit of help on 80, then I held my breath as he got to the end of the 90's. No pause, "Ninety-nine. One hundred. One hundred One. One hundred Two...."

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I'm astounded and holding my breath!! He got up to 109 and needed help. Grandaddy held his finger over the first one and asked what he saw and he said, "Ten" and then Grandad took his finger away and he seemed to be puzzled and Grandad started to quiz him some more, but I just said, "One hundred ten." He half-heartedly tried to go up into the mid 120's, but I could see his concentration wasn't as intense and he was pretty much done. He moved on to pulling the tape and trotting off into the yard while Grandaddy held the base and then Storm would run the tape back up to the porch while it slid inside. (That never gets old, does it? :~) )

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We hadn't found Unschooling when Wyl learned to count to 20 at 2, so there was a bit of prompting, and encouraging and some quizzing with number puzzles and magnets. Not a lot and not to the point of frustration (at least that I could tell or can remember), but it was not the Trust and Unschooling Storm has had. I didn't know he could count beyond 20 and it didn't even occur to me to wonder if he could or couldn't or if he "should" be able to. It just *Is*.

.

My kids surprise me a lot with stuff they know that I didn't know they know. It's fun and astounding to find out. "Wow, I didn't know you knew that! Where did you find that out?" Sometimes, Wyl even knows stuff I don't. When I first considered homeschooling, that concept horrified me-how could I teach someone stuff I don't know?? But now I think it is so cool! I can learn *more*! My kids, or at least *Wyl*, doesn't think it's weird or shocking that he knows something I don't-he just gives me information he has, just like Dave or I give him information we have. He doesn't have a second thought of asking questions of someone he thinks *might* have the information he seeks. I was often embarrassed or felt "little" to ask a parent and most certainly to ask a teacher in front of the whole class, something that *might* get me labeled "ignorant" for not knowing. Being laughed at for not knowing, for *having* to ask is pretty close to the (if not *the*) ultimate shame. I'm *so* glad my kids don't know what that feels like!!! They get to use *that* energy on creating Snorlax houses or counting the inches on a tape measure or bouncing on a trampoline or spinning in circles with their arms flung wide... Or saying for the 40th time that day, "I love you, Mama!" or "Unschooling is the BEST!" :~)

Conflict

The race of men, while sheep in credulity, are wolves for conformity. -Carl Van Doren, professor, writer, and critic (1885-1950)

I don't know why conflict between my boys seems so tough for me to deal with. Maybe I don't have enough practice. Maybe I don't have enough confidence. Maybe it's something else. I don't know.

Too many times, Storm or Wyl comes to me saying the other did something or hurt him. They *only* do this at home-not at McDonald's, friends' houses, grandparent's houses... (I'm sure there's one time someone will remind me of ;~) ) My first reaction wants to be, "You, (the complainee) stop that offense, *you* (the complainer) figure out a solution!". I don't react this way, of course. The main problem *I* see (which could be *nothing* like what my kids see or need!) is that they're often (I really, really want to say "always", but honestly, it's not "always", just "lots") coming straight to me to work things out between the two of them. Apparently, I'm not going about mediating very well. Sigh...

Today, they were playing Legos in Wyl's room. With Wyl, 95% of the time, this means lots of characters having conflict of some sort. (Hmmm... a thought just popped into my head-maybe I should see if I can play *with* them next time and act out problem-solving...) Today, Storm came complaining that Wyl "wouldn't let me change characters!"
Wyl's response, "He keeps saying, 'I wanna be this guy. No, I wanna be this guy. No, I wanna be *this* guy. No, I wanna be THIS guy. No, now I want to be this guy. I want to be *this* guy'! He just keeps changing!!"

So, I reminded Wyl that Storm was 4 years old and that he was learning a lot about what kind of guy he wanted to be by trying them all out. Wyl said he does it every time. I said that it takes more than one time, it happens over a long period, in Storm's "way" of doing it.

To Storm, I asked if he could tell Wyl at the beginning what few guys, say 3, that he was going to limit his "changing" to, since it really bothered Wyl's playing to have so much changing of "guys". I explained that Wyl had a storyline, a plan that he had worked out in his head and that every time Storm changed guys, it frustrated Wyl, because he had to re-work his story/plan. Storm *said* it was okay. Whether he really understood or not, or understood the "agreement" is another story. :~/

Maybe I offer too much. Maybe I do problem-solve for them too much. When I try to help them work through things together, it seems to involve even more conflict and much angst. If I don't throw in my "two cents worth", it often leads to extreme frustration on Wyl's part, and sometimes things get thrown or smashed. I understand that level of frustration, and that it *seems* best to avoid it at this point. So, I save my "helping them figure out how to work it out together" for smaller stuff, but that seems so few and far between that I am not very adept at it. And I tend to forget.

Add to that mix that I tend to grab up the mantle when there's conflict or hesitation or no one else grabbing it (is that a nicer way of saying I am a control freak? bossy?), and that just adds to the prevailing attitude of "Let mama fix it", I think. Maybe it *is* the right way to do things at this age, this stage, I don't know. I have a lot of self-doubt in that department, and I huge "I don't want to be my mother" reactionary kind of thing going on with the whole "control" issue. I guess the best I can do is just keep turning it over in my head, examining it from all angles and adding things I think might help to the mix. Oh, and *breathing*. I need to remember to breathe... I often forget when it comes to this kind of thing.

Then, too, they *do* some problem-solving without coming to me... sometimes. They play together *lots* very well. They love each other and they're often sweetly kind to each other....

Off to ponder and mull in private instead of public...

Contentment

"You really shouldn't say 'I love you' unless you mean it. But if you mean it, you should say it a lot. People forget. When someone loves you, the way they say your name is different. You just know that your name is safe in their mouth." ~Megan Jo Eberhart, 5 years old.

My life is *so* rich... I've been sitting here, today, just so satisfied and content with life As It Is. I have good friends, a good life, family (both blood related and not) whom I love and who love me, a roof over my head, learning & happy kids, choices... Sure, I could pull out the short paycheck, the lack of this one thing or another, having one car when two would really help our unschooling, challenges here and there, lack of funds for one thing or another, bills that are very far behind and make an uptight, nervous wreck of myself. I could use it to make myself and the people around me miserable, but what fun is that? Not that satisfaction and contentment are really "fun", but certainly more pleasant.

I could kick myself for being scattered and not "finishing" my Live and Learn Conference entries like I wanted to. I could gripe at myself and people around me for things that aren't "like they should be". I've done those things before-why not now? I don't know... unschooling? Age? Tiredness? Does it even matter *why*? The thing is, I'm starting to "get" that concept that other folks have posted about being the "rock in the storm" and just letting the chaos wash around and beyond me without soaking it up like I used to. My sponge has petrified. :~D Who would have thought petrification was a good thing?

Ah, distractions. My family's gravity is drawing me towards them-will I get back to this entry? Who knows? So, I'll post it as is and if I get back to it, I do, if not, it wasn't meant to be. I hope *you* are feeling as content and satisfied with your life, too!

The dance of the journey

Is not dread of thirst when your well is full, thirst that is unquenchable?-Kahlil Gibran, mystic, poet, and artist (1883-1931)

So... Wyl and I talked about things today. How school is (in some, small ways), how traditional parenting can look, how friends can be torn between their parents and their friends when choices have to be made.... It was a good talk, and for a change I knew when to shut up and he didn't have to tell me!

Sometimes, Wyl gets glimpses into how different his life really is from a typical, schooled kid. Most times he has no idea. Sometimes I wonder if it would be better for him if he were blissfully unaware or if him knowing some of that just makes things easier for his parents... I've heard it referred to as a dance before and it really is. There is give and take, back and forth, harmony and synchronicity-and if someone missteps, it throws a chunk of things out of whack for a few beats. And the newer "dancer" you are, the longer things are out of whack and the tougher it is to find your place again. But, then too, I've yet to see a 4-partner dance! Dancing together with harmony and grace is tough enough with 2 people... could you imagine it with FOUR?? Granted, there is square dancing, but there are still 4 pairs of partners and I don't really see it as smooth and graceful. Maybe it is and I'm just remembering my gym class square dancing from 4th grade. :: grin ::

His empathy is starting to grow, I think. When Dave and I give him information on how others might feel, he has recently started asking why we are making him feel guilty. I'm not sure where to go from this point, as it rather took me aback the first time he said it, but I've started with the idea that no one but Wyl can make him feel something he doesn't want to feel. It feels lame and blame-passing, so I'll keep exploring other avenues. I know there's better things to say and do (or stop saying and/or doing), and we'll find it.

My "am I getting it?" angst is lessening. I'm feeling "groovy"er. It might be getting out and about and seeing folks and realizing how far we've come. It might be something someone said to me this week:

If you let them do their worst, you might find out that now that you're an adult, it's not as bad as you imagined it would be. The older and bigger you get, the older and smaller they get. If you keep acting and feeling like you're little and they're huge, you stay in the child role.

It was one of those epiphany moments. I get SO aggravated when I "know" (intellectually) something and then someone writes some words in the right way and I read them in the right frame of mind on the right day and then I KNOW (with my whole being) it. Why couldn't I KNOW it when the idea was first placed before me?! Grrrr.

At any rate, it's funny. Not "ha, ha" funny, though some might find it so... funny in that "things that make you go hmmmm" kind of way. When it was first presented to me, over two years ago, it made perfect sense that I was at *least* 50% responsible for my parents still treating me like a child. It made sense, and yet, for a long time before every meeting with them, I'd need to psyche myself up, do the "look in the mirror and repeat" and *tell* myself that I *was* an adult now... my little pep-talk, pre-parent mantra. And it didn't feel "affirming", it felt more like "girding" or armoring up.

Since that epiphany moment (after ingesting those words above), there were several moments of, "Yeah, alright!" and then I went on to other things as the moment settled into my subconscious. And yet, oddly enough, things have been different since then. I *feel* different. Not in a big way, not in a "marked" way. Very subtle-so subtle so as to be almost entirely unnoticeable. Life feels different. Micro-pleasantly. Like all those obvious markers of how far I've come in my respectful parenting, respectful *living* journey... they've *been* there, but now I *see* them. Kind of like when you notice for the first time how much your child has grown. He didn't grow in those 30 seconds you looked away. It happened so slowly over weeks and yet, *wow!* the "noticing" is sudden.


Drat. Interruptions always derail my train of thought (pardon the pun). Give me a moment to catch it again...

I wonder if everyone's journey looks like this. Not that it is important, just kind of pondering how else it could look, I guess. Possibly, since so many people know what I mean about suddenly noticing how your kid has grown. Maybe not, since my blog looks so different from others that I read regularly. Sometimes I look at those other blogs and wish mine read like those, but I'm sure that there are those of you reading *at this moment* who are saying, "NO! We like the way you write-don't change!!" Just like our individual unschooling journeys... if I changed to make it more like someone else's, it wouldn't be mine anymore.

And so the dance continues. Stumble, ramble, misstep, read, come together again and glide along to our own inner tunes.

My Unschooling Experience

The dust of exploded beliefs may make a fine sunset. -Geoffrey Madan, writer (1895-1947)

Okay, I know its been a while and I'll address that. Later. I just had to get this out of my head and onto "paper"...

I think I've finally hit the nail on the head as to what "getting" unschooling feels like to me-at this point in the journey. Fumbling in the dark. Serious, mis-directed fumbling. You know what its like when you're walking through a dark room in your house? Pitch dark. No discernible shadows. Remember what it's like to have your sense of direction out of whack? THAT'S what it's like, right now, in this place of my journey.

I swear I know this "room" of RU. I was certain I had mapped it out in my brain in the clear daylight of the postboards/yahoogroups of "what if" and "when", but then, I find myself, alone in the dark, full of confidence that I know what's where, what to avoid and where I'm truly headed. Stretching my hands up at shoulder-height for that shelf I know that's there, stepping rather quickly (for the dark) and confidently, then *whack*, I get a low chest in the shin. {damn!} Okay, I wasn't headed *exactly* the direction I thought... regroup... adjust slightly. Now, a bit slower, but still confident, splaying my fingers out at hip level for that dresser *thwap!* there's that shelf, giving me a goose-egg on my forehead! {gob damnit!} I thought I had adjusted the right way... maybe I overcompensated-or is it that I didn't compensate enough?? Okay, full stop. Think it through, chest, shelf, rubbing my head.... Alright, I think I see where I messed up. Slowly, now, carefully.... *this* direction. Hand out in front of my face (just in case) and toes feeling along the floor, carefully... making progress... *scraaatch* {son of a biscuit!} How the heck did I get the corner of the nightstand in the hip??!! That's nowhere *near* where I was headed!! Alright, there's only one way left to go. Inching ever so slowly, eyes open beyond wide-hoping for even the teeniest hint of shadow... is that a blob over there? Hands now scanning back and forth, up and down to avoid any possible contact with anything... tense... hoping for the best, yet fearing more failure and pain... *POW* the doorknob hits me in the BACK?!?! {now jumping up and down, swearing like a sailor, yelling in pain} That wasn't even the direction I was heading-and I was walking *forward*, I know I was!! How the hell did I get it in the back from the doorway I came IN through?!?! Then my anger turns to disgust, disappointment and self-loathing as I sink to the cold floor in the middle of the dark, weeping hopelessly...

And that's how the jumps and starts of my unschooling journey go. Nothing like I picture: no smooth transitions, no gradual progress, no stunning sudden leaps of unschooling mana... Yet, sometimes when I look back, it *seems* like I've come a long way... Ugh. In a way, I hope I'm not the only one that fails so regularly and miserably, yet in a bigger way, I hope that no one else has to go through the extremes that I seem to.

So, the reason its been a while... I quit unschooling. Well, I quit the respectful parenting, radical part. I had one of those "sink to the cold floor in the dark" moments and instead of falling into despair, I got pissed and decided I was done on this "one way street", so to speak. That I was going back to being a mainstream parent, the boss, the punishing meany. Anyone gasping in horror, yet? How about disappointment? Guess what? Respectful parenting seems to be a one-way street. I found that once on this street, I couldn't turn around. I couldn't bring myself to go back to disrespecting these wonderful people in my family. I'd gone too far down the street and not only couldn't go the other direction, I couldn't even find a place to turn around. Go figure.

Since that decision and subsequent discovery, I think I've come to the conclusion that I'm having peri-menopause related PMS and mood ... swings? Nah, they're not mood swings. Swings sway gently back and forth, up and down in a gentle, rhythmic pattern. Swings are fun and predictable and comforting. I guess I have mood... jolts? That's just not *enough*... Mood collisions? Closer... Maybe mood-natural-disasters. Mood tsunamis. Yes, huge, unexpected, crashing waves of destruction that leave folks drowning in bafflement and disaster. That's what they are: mood tsunamis.

At any rate, I have a direction to go now that I have a PMS thing and methods to use to resolve it. That still doesn't have anything to do with my lack of clear direction and losing my path on the RU journey. Maybe it will come if I keep working at it. Is it *me*, or does it seem like the mentoring voices on the unschooling groups had a much simpler, shorter, easier journey?

Does anyone else picture them the way I do? Ever-gentle voices of patience and peace. Sitting cross-legged on their "mount" of a kitchen chair with a hot cup of tea steaming on the table beside them. Doling out wise advice and perfect stories of their own families with ease and kind patience to all that file through their virtual, online kitchens. Never a hair out of place, goddess-like halo of flowers on their heads, smiling warmly in acceptance as each parent begs for help at her knee... Okay, maybe its a bit whimsical and over the top, but you get the idea. And me with that whole "dirty urchin", cinder girl feeling... Its true. I've always been hard on myself. It goes easier when you're hard on yourself first-then when others are hard on you, it doesn't hurt so much. But then again, too, I'm the only mama my boys have and I want to do it RIGHT!! I don't want to get it right by the time their 18, I want to do it right-now. I kick myself 50 times over for every wrong and I fear to revel in the good stuff-even for a moment-for fear that I will get complacent in my place on the journey. Gee. I sound like a screwed-up whack-job, don't I?? LOL

I guess I need to have occasional anxt-y moments... jeeze, I wish I could find that awesome saying from Legend... the only thing I can remember is, "without dark, there can be no light"... Wonder if google can save me... Gee, I thought it was longer than this:

There can be no good without evil...
No love without hate...
No innocence without lust...
No heaven without hell...
No light without darkness.

But all I can find reference to is a "voice over", but what I remember are the words scrolling up the screen... Someday we'll have the DVD and I'll get it down right for posterity. But back to my point. Maybe I need the back slides to make progress, the negativity to help me find the positive.

And now I'm too hungry to think and type properly so I'll go and munch and ponder...

To find a person who will love you for no reason, and to shower that person with reasons, that is the ultimate happiness. -Robert Brault, software developer, writer (1938- )

An Inkling of Understanding

"Be careful how you interpret the world: it *is* like that." -Erich Heller, essayist (1911-1990)

*Disclaimer: I had many brief interruptions and one long one, so this may come out sounding disjointed or worse ;~)

When I have moments like this, moments when *true understanding* seeps in around the roadblocks of old tapes/status quo, I want to run to each and every one of my "voices of reason", my mentors, the more experienced folks I've learned so much from (run to them like they're in the next room, because it often feels as if they are *that* close)... folks like Sandra, Danielle, Meredith, Ren, Diana, Robyn, Schuyler, Pam, Joyce -and more-, grab them up in a huge bear hug, laugh and jump and dance and not only share the joy of the moment, but THANK them beyond what words can ever do justice.

I think I've finally come up with a passing explanation of what this RU, respectful parenting, natural learning, whole life unschooling means to me. My kids have their own path. I've "known" that in my brain, but it seems it is so difficult for what I know in my brain to seep into my heart, my soul, my being.... But today, (hmmm... why do so much of these "sinking in" things happen in the shower?? LOL Maybe because its so quiet in there... ) it really became understood *inside* me. They have their own path. I can not see where their path will lead, I cannot -or maybe SHOULD not- control their path, know what it will bring them, where it will take them or who will join them on their journey. Dave and I are here as experienced guiders, people who can explain how to judge road conditions, how to read the signs, what might happen, what our experiences on our paths have been and how we traversed the hills and valleys, the bumps and curves. We can give them knowledge to plan, a soft spot to land, a place of peace to rest when the road is too rough for them. We can help them pack tools and flares, blankets and sustenance. We can help them find ways to communicate along the way, where to find maps and guidebooks. We can fill our hearts will joy and anticipation as the solo part of their journey (solo without us, anyway, not necessarily alone) approaches. There is no way for us to anticipate every single possible thing they will ever need-nor would there be room or time to add all that. But, when it comes to that point, we will wave them off and they will go with joy, hope and excitement onto their own paths with their own experiences in their own world. The less roadblocks we put up, the more we avoid "can't" and imagine possibilities and detours around to "yes", the more prepared they will be to travel on their own. The easier it will be for them to see the wonder, the amazing sights, to get as much joy out of their journey as possible. To find the path that is right for each one of them.... And a home to come back to if they should need a haven of rest.

What is that old saying about walking side by side? Let me see if Google turns up anything... Ah, gotta love Google:
"Don't walk in front of me, I may not follow. Don't walk behind me, I may not lead. Just walk beside me and be my friend." Albert Camus (1913-1960)
That has always "said" something to me. Funny, I haven't thought of it for a long time. Funny, too, that I always thought of it as a "life partner" thing... Well, I guess it still IS-just my definition of "partner" has changed. Or maybe my definition of "life partner"...

I raise my glass, this New Year's Day, in toast: To The Journey! {clink!}

Duh!

Another one of those moments...

I was reading an interview of Eva Longoria and read a bit about her mother being non-judgemental and always wanting whatever made her kids happy. I know this. I've wanted this as a parent, too. I *thought* I was "there" until I read this paragraph, set the paper down and nodded my head saying, "Uh huh." and then something clicked.

All those times I kept getting frustrated when one of the boys was doing something that I didn't "get". Something I saw as more mess to clean or whatever and I asked why. Why was he doing that thing?? And my frustration just increased when I heard, "I don't know", "Just 'cause" or "Because I like to". I guess I need one of those Star Trek every-language-interpreters, because what it was translating to me was something along the lines of "I don't have a clue but I'm going to keep doing it anyway, even if it does bug you". But for some reason, that one small bit of an interview in that magazine helped me translate those comments! Suddenly, it was clear!! They were saying, "It makes me HAPPY"!!! I was stopped in my tracks momentarily as this realization struck me. A figurative slap to my forehead and a resounding, "DUH!!" thundered through my head. Obviously, I wasn't "there" - I wasn't living my life without judgement, I wasn't 100% at "whatever makes them *happy*".

Does RU make you appreciate your kids more? Does RU make you appreciate being a parent more? All I know is that if I had stayed on the traditional parenting path that has so much less challenges than RU/respectful parenting, there's a lot I would take for granted and much less I would find to appreciate about our lives, about our family.

I used to think I was NOT one of those people who said, "We unschool except for... (math, science, etc.)". But what I've recently come to realize is that I'm a person who unconsciously says, "We unschool except for tooth brushing/a few rules/occasional no's." But I'm working on that. :~)