Time In

Often the world around us sends a message that when the going gets tough, we need a time out. Whether it be commercials for tired parents, who need a vacation from it all or mainstream parenting books that insist that a trouble child certainly needs a time out to regain their composure (or more honestly behave the way the parent would prefer).

Recently, through my own tough moments, I have begun to recognize that time ins actually work much more smoothly to restore peace. Time in connection with my children fills me up and reminds me just why I want to spend some much time with them. Time in connection with my children heals the places with in me that perhaps were undernourished.

Time in one on one relationship with each of my children feeds a need with in us both to blossom and grow in our awareness of one another. Time in relationship with my partner heals the rushed moments and unthoughtful comments that have passed between us in hurried interactions.

Time in reflection with myself restores my commitment to live fully, joyfully, respectfully, lovingly and passionately.

The last straw (or more likely draw)

Prior to meeting my children, I was certain, with no shadow of a doubt that they would never play video games in my house. Those of you who know me in present day can appreciate just how far I have come, or more clearly just how much letting go I have done (or continue to do).

My husband actually was the first to start bringing the whole video game issue to life. Even before the boys had ever seen or wanted for any sort of system/game/experience we had a couple of arguments. Our first failed attempt at being down with video games ended in my husband removing the system from the house and lying to the children about it's working condition. Yep, we did that, back then in a time when our footing was a little less grounded. The boys memory of it all is truly how appalling it is that we told such a lie to them. I guess they have come to expect more of us.

None the less, time moved on and my boys did indeed experience video games at friends houses and the appeal with there. The passion was mounting and I had some work to do. For me, it involved taking a look at my own fears, concerns and worries and not just in the quick peek surface view kind of way. I had to pull them out, lay them in front of myself and untangle the roots to find the source.  You see I knew plenty of families who had happy, healthy, enjoyable children and video games. In fact, one of my most favorite families had a no rules policy around games and their children where excelling in a host of areas (tons of which grew out of their freedom to explore all and any game that came their way in that no holds barred go for it live your passion kind of way).  I discovered, my fears/concerns/worries were not attached to or based on any real life first hand experience. They were tales told to me by well meaning folk, or stories shared by well meaning research, they were stories I had been holding on to that had no relationship to the here and the now.

So we bought a Wii, for our then 5 and 3 year old. And because of where we were at in our own journey it came without rules or strings. It was another tool brought in to the house and available to use in any way that worked for those encountering it.

There were days, many many days, when I had to bite my tongue, as my three year old sat for hours in front of the screen. He didn't want to do any of the things we used to do and no amount of coercing or nudging could move the lad. I had fears arising now based on what I was seeing, they met up with those put in their by the afore mentioned well meaning folks and researchers.  Here I was once again, looking at some stuff and trying to untangle it in a way that made sense for me and as always preserved the relationship I have with my boys.

This time (as often is the case) it was the boys themselves that showed me the way through. When I could sit and listen, what I heard was children learning through play. Sure the mode was a new one for me, but the sounds of discovery, delight, problem solving and cooperation were the same, as were the sounds of frustration. The big loud noises, the tears were the same in this venue as they were when trying on a new skill in any venue. Once, I could really hear these sounds of play, I was free (for the time being) from my fears and I could see so much more clearly the value of this play and the skills that were being mastered all around me.

The one thing I hung on to in the very back recesses of my mind, was first person shooter games. You see I knew I still had issues with this style of gaming. For the first three years of our video game adventure there was no interest and so I was able to carefully tuck that fear aside. I worried a little when the PS3 first arrived in our home and I saw the abundance of shooter games marketed for the system. However, I rested assured as the purchase was made for sports games and the passion for those was huge.

And then the summer of 2010 showed up and after a few visits to favorite peoples homes, a passion for shooter games was spawned. My eight year was desperate to buy an XBOX in order to play Halo. GULP!  I had learned, from my own past, to simply keep my mouth shut and support the interest, heck who knew where it would really go.

Well, it went through a fast paced money acquisition that involved cleaning basements, repairing decks and washing a large number of cars. It involved hours of You Tube viewing, conversations and the interviewing of friends. It was supplemented with real in the forest recreations of the game with anyone who would play. I encouraged, questioned, I listened and honestly inside I wept a little. Could my eight year old really want to kill people on screen ?

Sensing something one night he said to me, "hey Mom, just cause I play shooting games doesn't mean I will change. Cause I know I never want to join the army or have a real gun."

My arms surrounded this thoughtful human being.

And then there in the airport, as we are about to board a plane he says to me, "I'm not going to buy an XBOX cause that's way too much money to save up."

Phew, I sigh and I smile. Again, I don't have much to say, cause I have learned in theses moments all that is generally required of me is to listen.

"When we get home can I do Gamestop and buy Modern Warfare with all the money I made? "

And there ya have it, the passion and interest were not lost simply shifted, in a way that supported a faster immersion in to this new style of video gaming. Once again, because of my commitment to this process (you know the one that values and respects my boys opinions and passions) and cause I  know it's not really up to me how they spend their money, I took him to the Gamestop and he bought the game.

That is how the last straw of my resolve to keep any sort of video game experience out of my home was broken. It has me doing a ton of reflection lately and yes once again listening.

Play is how my children learn. The bigger the idea, the more play required in order to cycle the ideas and information in to their frame of reference. War, guns and violence are super big complicated ideas that I often have a hard time understanding. So, it would make sense that they would require a huge amount of playing with. And that it would make sense to want to understand it through the eyes of the solider, through the eyes of the victim, through the eyes of the enlisting officers and on the list goes. I dare say this is livelier the any history book I have encountered.  And cause the adults in my boys life are always near by the gaps are filled in with the bits and pieces of information as they are asked for, further cementing a deeper understanding of the world around them.

My learning once again leaps forward as I see what is truly before me, apart from the stories that are shared with me by well meaning folks and researchers, who's knowing of my children is far less then mine. I see that my children do not fall prey to the media they encounter but instead take information tear it apart, look at it from different angles and put it back together in a way that makes sense to them in the present moment.

Not everyday is made of rainbows and sunshine

I have been having some deep, tender thoughtful conversations with a few mom's in my life that inspire me. As of late the topic has touched upon the less then joy filled moments we experience on this raw and authentic journey of unschooling in a most radical sense.

It can feel somewhat isolating at times, when blog post after blog post oozes on about the joy, the delight and the wonder of this path and you have had days on end of well shittiness.  The wondering, we got up to was about those in the trenches blog posts that talk about our far from perfect moments when connections and joy are not the results of our actions.

I will openly admit that it seems I have just as many of those days as I have of the wonderful connected chasing down our passions with pure and utter joy days. However, I am less inclined to share with the world via my blog about my short comings. I would say, the reason isn't cause I want you all to think I am the uber ultra perfect unschooling moma, it is more likely that I seriously don't feel motivated to write when I am at my wits end. And I also think, that for me, in those darker days, my blog is a place/space I can come to in order to re-motivate and inspire myself, kind of like a remember when or a look there is evidence that this too shall pass.

Which I realize is less then helpful for folks who are looking to hear or know that they are not alone on this big emotion roller coaster that is unschooling in the most radical means of the journey. Cause ripping off those layers of old thought patterns to discover the parent we truly wish to be with our children can truly take us down to the deepest darkest recesses of the yuckiest things we experienced in life and sometimes it is hard to see that there will ever be a light at the end of the tunnel let alone catch a glimpse of the afore mentioned light.

As this post meanders before me, I am not truly sure of it's purpose. Perhaps to simply say, hey off line lots of folks are noticing that this journey ain't always joy filed and that living freely with a whole house full of wants and needs can be exhausting and exasperating in the newest and most challenging of ways. And perhaps is is also the beginning of more posts that will see me crawling to the computer after those heart wrenching days, to remind folks that we are not alone especially when the the moon is not shining out of our behinds.

I'm that Mom

For the Blog Carnival inspired by Flo Gascon .. started by Ronnie Sundance Maier and fueled by super inspiring mom's and dad's around the globe!



I'm that mom

... who birthed her babies at home cause it felt like a good idea

.. who nursed her baby near every two hours for the first three years of his life cause it was just what he needed

.. who jumps in puddles when it rains even without waterproof foot wear on just cause it looks so tempting

.. who smokes pretend cigarettes with her kids cause such a big idea is clearly worth exploring in the most authenticate of ways 

.. who piles dishes on the counter when the dishwasher is full cause tickle backs on in high demand

.. who pulls out a ladder and holds it steady cause someone wonders if an egg dropped from the roof on to the grass will break

.. who bakes cakes, even if they are simply for the purpose of decoration and never actually get eaten cause the inspiration arises

.. who buys four cans of whip cream cause one is never enough

.. who is willing to pass back a cup/bottle/bowl for peeing in when pulling over is impossible cause sometimes holding it in just is way to hard

.. who watches from the sidelines while holding smaller hands cause she knows that participation comes in all sizes and shapes

... who watches way more disney channel shows then she might choose cause it means sitting beside someone I adore

.. who snuggles under the blankets and tells more then one bedtime story cause sometimes sleep can be elusive

And Yes I am that Mom, who would rather have others judge, laugh or shake their head at her then disappoint, embarrass or belittle her children (or anyone's children really).

Unconditional

As we are looking to build our tribe of local friendships and connection we are spending more time around unfamiliar folks and witnessing a wide array of parenting preferences. Lately, the one thing that has really slapped me up side the head, is the true burden some folks feel in taking on this big job of parenting. 

This idea got me to wondering, I mean for the vast majority of folks they did choose to invite this human being in to the world. And again, for a large percentage it was cause they were crazy in love with their partner and wanted to make another human being out of that love. And from what I know for certain about babies they arrive in this world as nothing sort of a pure unconditional love. From day one, that is simply what they have to offer up, pure unaltered not tampered with or damaged unconditional love.  A rather powerful drug that makes parents fall head over heels in love. 

So if we have these people who are in love and they make this person that is pure love, where is the point that the child becomes this manipulative little being who is out to make their parents life challenging? Where is the turning point that the child stops being unconditional love and becomes devious and in need of discipling or reshaping? 

I imagine it could be at the point when they start to push a parents buttons and in doing so encourage this parent to turn inward and have a look at what is going on for them. Cause really, for a child to be spoiled wouldn't that mean at some point they were rotten? And if they were rotten wouldn't that mean at some point the scales began to tip from good to bad? In order for that tipping moment to emerge from a being that was pure unconditional love when it arrived one would have to argue it had something to due with the environment the unconditional love was being nurtured in. And if this is truly the case we present, how in the name of any powerful being can that be the fault or the responsibility of the child. They were the one who was invited in to this world after all and showed up wrapped in unconditional love. 

I vividly remember a moment in my life when an subtle internal shift occurred that opened an even deeper well of unconditional love with in me for my children. It was late in the night and my 2 year old had woken me again to nurse (for the first three years of his life this happened nearly every 2 hours) I turned to him with frustration. I heard a stream of stories and advice pouring in to my mind about how he was manipulating me, I should have trained him out of this by now etc. You know what I saw in return, a smile. A smile that radiated that pure untainted love he had for me. I recognized in that moment that that was all he ever had to offer me. It was at the heart of our every interaction. How in the world could I meet that with anything but the same pure and free love. 

I try my best to have a huge amount of compassion for the chest puffed father asserting his power over his children in the park, in a manner that belittles, shames and embarrasses them. I suspect he is responding to the world around him that encourages this sort of dominance as evidence that he is doing a "good job" as a parent. And I offer a smile to the frazzled mother in the grocery store who is threatening her children  in a public manner cause I suspect she has bought in to the idea that a good parent keeps their children quiet in order to not disturb those around her, who by the way don't have an ounce of unconditional love for her. 

I still don't think it's okay though. I wonder about a world that accepts and makes it okay, to take unconditional love, manipulate it or train it or discipline it and then turn around and blame the results of that on the person who arrived invited offering nothing but that unconditional love. 

Cause your just as important as I am

Just the other day the boys and I were at home doing our thing. We were having what the boys call "a home day." It is what they ask for quite regularly to integrate new experiences, information and ideas in to their world.

I was starting to cook up some food for dinner and the boys were lounging in my bed, watching Disney channel. When off in the distance I heard the high pitched screaming of a child. The child was screaming "no, no, no, no," repeatedly in a desperate sort of manner. To say it broke my heart was an understatement. Now I took a moment to ground myself in the knowing that I hadn't a clue of what was going on or what the parent and child interaction looked like and to cultivate compassion for all parties involved in this heart wrenching altercation. And then it went on and on and on and on. I scoped the areas close to my home, in hopes of catching the interaction and offering a smile, or hand if it looked safe. However, I could not get a visual on the heart broken child. So I stood on my deck and I cried. I cried for the child who was so obviously asserting their desire for something to stop and I cried for the adult who wasn't able to hear that see that or meet the child's need.

Later in the evening, the boys and I were discussing what I had heard and how I so desperately wished I could help out. Mitchel so wisely said, "Ya but the parent might not have liked that." This caused me to pause before offering up a response. To me, the child is just as important as the adult and if I can show up and simply offer a smile that breaks the moment or let's the child know their is an adult in the world who recognizes them in their distress, that's enough.  I think he got that for the most part. But me I kept on thinking.

How often in our world do we over hear parents talking about their children using negative language? How often do we hear parents discussing funny or embarrassing moments right their in front of their obviously uncomfortable children? I think this sends a subtle, quiet message that us grown ups are far more important then children. I mean heck really this is only the tip of the iceberg in the number of ways this message is given to children over and over and over again in mainstream society.

This whole ideas has always baffled me, from childhood, through University and in to parenting.  My wondering is this, is respect something you have to earn? Or is it something you give freely to those around you in order to be open to receiving it right back at you? And what is the magical age by which you arrive that gives you "power" over others? Is it your right as an adult to then make up for all those years you wished someone would listen to you or take you seriously by disrespecting and holding power over younger smaller people?

I am thankful for that fact that I have always questioned the value of one age group over another. I truly believe it is the driving force behind how I came to know the little people I was blessed to work with in a number of "work" situations. I remember once, a mother saying to me, "I wanted you to work with my child because you always bend down to talk to her at eye level." What was shocking here was two part, the first being I had no conscious clue that this is what I was doing. And secondly, that others around me weren't.

When I first met my boys it made sense to me that their will and desire was on par with mine. It was one of those things that came from with in.  I was surrounded during my early parenting years by parents who were desperate to have their children sleep, who were using anything from Ferber to the Baby whisperer to make this happen. I just could not bring myself to get in the way of what ever need it was that my young sons had that waked them. I mean come on we spent our ever waking moment wrapped up in each other, why suddenly when the lights went out would they want to be separated from me for 10-12 hours. I struggled in the face of others who cringed at my nursing toddlers, somewhere in me I knew their need to receive nourishment from physical contact with me was just as important as my need to for personal space.

For me a huge part of honoring my children's importance lies in the place where I take them seriously.  A few days back, Makinley announced "I am going to work in a toothpaste factory when I grow up." There are many a response I could have come back with that discouraged this any thing from, "you won't get rich doing that" to out right laughter would have crushed his very in the moment determination. Instead, I listened and took him quite seriously. To which he explained, "and mom I am going to ask my boss if I can bring some toothpaste home for you so you won't have to buy it anymore. I hope I can be the guy who puts the cap on at the end."  Wow, he had given this some careful consideration and was asserting his dreams, hopes and ideas about the future while also considering my economical needs. This was a tender sharing by a young person who's dreams are just as important as mine.

As I move through the challenges of parenting I am continually called to bite my tongue to keep my thoughts and ideas quiet while holding my children in space that is as valuable as my own. Cause sure I can apologize later for the mistakes I make (cause there are plenty of those) but grander are the moments when I can keep my internal dialogue to myself while  holding my child in the space that reflects how we are equally important in this world!

Anger

Anger is one of those emotions that really, really, really triggers me. Whether it be the anger of an adult thrown my way that I feel the need to duck and hide from or the explosive anger of my child that I feel the need to manage, it triggers me. 

My oldest son feels things in a big way. Ever since he was born, when he is pissed off, it comes out with what to the external observer can appear to be rather violent. As he gets bigger things have started to look scarier. And for some reason the scarier they look the more I feel the need to get in the way of it all and manage it. Even though in my rational mind, I know for sure when he is in the place that makes him through a Wii controller across the room, he most certainly can not hear a thing I have to say. And if he is yelling and throwing things about his room, me yelling back is not the thing that is going to restore any sort of peace. 

Just yesterday, I got to thinking in the way that I hope turns in to some sort of shift. The first step for me was rather humbling. I realized, I was asking of my son, something I had yet developed the skill to do. "Please, when you get that mad can you just walk away and cool off." I don't do that all the time. Heck, I had just been right there in the living room yelling alongside him. Check that little piece of reality. 

The next step logically for me, was to admit to my son, that what I was requesting of him appeared to be beyond my abilities and was likely not the path that was going to take us away from yelling inappropriate words as the top of our lungs. 

So, we talked about anger and what it feels like. "It is like something just takes over my body and I can't control it." Wow, this is good information for me to know but more importantly for my son to know about his own physical reaction to anger. 

And the hardest part for me at this stage of the discussion, is to shut up and listen. I don't need to give him information about what he should or even could do when that happens. I can offer compassion for how challenging it must be to be in a body that feels clearly outside of your control and I can ask, "is there anything I can do to support you when feel this way?"

"YES, leave me alone and get out of my way."

I am sure that my heart beat could be heard from a few miles away. It was quite literally pounding inside of my chest. I want to help, in that do something way, and my eight year old has requested, I back off.  Alongside my teary eyes, was a hint of amazement as I realized he had just the skill I wished for earlier in the day. The ability to recognize what anger feels like in my body and to know what I needed those around me to do in order to give me the space to adequately process it. 

The challenge, for me to remember this conversation in the heat of the moment. To feel my own anger and my own urge to help and still give my son the space he needs to fully experience the anger coming in to his body, going through and inevitably leaving. Cause heck, who wants to carry that kind of nastiness around in your body clear in to your adult life. 

I thank my son for showing me, anger isn't something to be afraid of, it's just a feeling or emotion, that needs to find it's way through your body, in order to be fully released.