"I would not interfere with any creed of yours,or want to appear that I have all the cures.There is so much to know... So many things are true...The way my feet must go may not be best for you.And so, I give this spark of what is light to me,to guide you through the dark, but not tell you what to see." -Author Unknown
So the other day, Emilee (16) carries a very limp & teary-eyed Grace (4) into my bedroom where I’m working and says “Mom, Grace is sad.” So I stopped working and held her in my arms and asked her why she was sad. She explained, with Emilee’s help, how it bothers her that Maddy (7) always wins. She was so very sad about it, so we tried to help her think of things she’s good at, so she can beat Maddy. She was amused with our suggestions, but ultimately rejected each one, including “nose picking” and “being 4″ and “jumping over floor tiles” These are things we know she’s proud of.
In the end, she came up with her own ideas, “a race” and “tying people up” and “making homemade band aids.”
Madelyn wouldn’t even compete in the tying people up category, which made grace a winner by default. The look of joy & pride on Grace’s face when she beat Maddy at making homemade band-aids was priceless and I suspect Maddy let her win the race, when she realized what was going on.
Around here, we’re not much into competitive sports, where other people make up the rules. And we’re definitely not the types that wake up at the crack of dawn to drive the kids out to a field to play. I prefer that the kids engage in activities that encourage them to be their personal best, rather than focus on “beating others.”
In principle, I’d let them participate in group sports, but in realty, it hasn’t happened. Sign-up dates have often eluded us, as this information gets sent home with kids at school. I’ve often wondered why these groups (soccer clubs, little league, etc..) don’t have more informative websites. I don’t make much of an effort to find out about these things because I’m not interested in attending practice 2-3 times a week or sitting in the sun or wind at 8am on a Saturday while they play.
Yes, competition is a natural part of life. Yes, competition is healthy and normal. No, we don’t need to invent situations where kids can experience arbitrary competition. Life presents plenty of natural opportunities to experience competition, without expensive uniforms, ongoing repetitive “championship rounds” or anything like that. Rivals can (and should) be friends, always. There’s more to competition than warfare.
Arbitrary rules of competition set kids up to live by the other people’s definition of success, instead of creating their own happiness. This might work well for people who define success by keeping up with their neighbors, but around here, we have different expectations.
I expect my kids to excel exactly as much as they wish, at whatever they choose to be a worthy exploit. I expect that they are in tune with their own inner longings, and find it easy to decide what games they’ll compete in and whether or not they intend to win, or just want to play. I trust that the activities they choose and the decisions they’re making today are part of their ultimate identity, something I would never dream of influencing or “shaping,” to do so would be blasphemous.
In the book “Give me Liberty” by Gerry Spence, which isn’t about parenting at all, it’s about freedom from the profit-driven clutches of corporations and governments, he says;
“Children, as persons, are entitled to the greatest respect. Children are given to us as free-flying souls, but then we clip their wings like we domesticate the wild mallard. Children should become the role-models for us, their parents, for they are coated with the spirit from which they came- out of the ether, clean, innocent, brimming with the delight of life, aware of the beauty of the simplest thing; a snail, a bud, a shadow in the garden. Children are the closest thing to angels.”
Small children ’s minds clearly live less “in their body” than adult’s. Adults are acutely aware of their own bodies and minds – analyzing its sensations, thoughts and feelings. Kids rarely think of such things. Have you ever heard a child ask “Why do I do that?” They think more about the next fun experience. Sure, some kids may have physical sensitivities to certain fabrics, sounds or foods, but they don’t THINK about it, they just seek comfort. They experience feelings, but they don’t over-analyze them. They just seek happiness. Duh.
instead of teaching kids OUR world view, we need to allow them to see the world through the eyes they were born with, and listen intently to what they're telling us.
Some people would have you believe that kids are selfish, sinful or naturally bad, in need of ‘training” but that couldn’t be further from the truth. At their essence, they are creators. Kids are givers. When people see “bad” in children, it’s a gross and self-centered misinterpretation of the child’s actions and NOT a representation of the child’s inner self. Parenting from a position that believes children are inherently evil will NEVER help a child to be their best, EVER. It’s a self-fulfilling prophesy. These people never see the true soul of their own children because they allow a preconceived notion to cloud their vision. So their children grow up doubting their own inner goodness, free from the responsibility or benefits of peaceful or happy relations because they believe that at their core, that they’re flawed. YOU are not flawed at the core. No matter what your religion has told you. You are infinitely perfect and every experience, no matter what your analytical mind has labeled it, just IS, and isn’t bad or good, it just IS. My favorite part of the audio version of Rhonda Byrne’s book The Secret is the sound of Lisa Nichols’ voice saying
“And your spirit is so big that it fills a room*” (with a blissful giggle that brings out the irony in the idea that anyone could ever feel small or insignificant)
Life isn’t about forcing people to do what you want. It should be about fully experiencing (LIVING) every minute of whatever it means to you to be ALIVE. This includes your amazing children, experiencing them while allowing them to experience their own (paralell) reality.
Inherently evil?
I love how Maddy (7) asks so many questions. In 5 minutes she’s asked me a hundred. “Mom, what’s an errand?” I answered her, then she repeated it back to me in a question. “like if I said ‘I have to run an errand’ it means I need to go do something important somewhere else real quick?” and I confirmed her interpretation. I can’t imagine giving her a list of vocabulary words or asking her to write a sentence for every word on a list (which would be MY list, not hers) Talking, verbal communication, it’s one thing that makes us human, civilized. Why on earth are “schoolers” (not to be confused with scholars, whom I still respect) OK with the idea of interfering with the communication skills of a 7 yr old? How could anyone imagine that ANY list of words would ever meet my child’s need to understand the language in the world around her.
After our little conversation, she stews in her mind a bit, the wheels are turning and she asks me another random question “Did you and dad know each other when you were kids?” and a little later she says “I probably have to google this, but do you know if whales see the way people see?” I had no idea, but I made a mental note of the fact that she realizes the limitations of my knowledge and knows how to research) so we googled it. We never found the answer, because she got sidetracked by videos of whale songs.
Every question doesn’t need an answer. Sometimes questions just lead to more questions and it’s OK. Nothing in real life ever resembles an end-of-the-chapter test.
Birds fly, fish swim and humans learn. -John Holt
Her questioning takes a considerable amount of time every day. She usually hangs out with me in the evening when I’m cleaning the kitchen, grilling me on world history, US history, science, family history, word meanings and telling me all about her doll’s relationships, careers and lifestyles.
Last night, there was something stuck to the burner- I’d wiped it down earlier but I think I got something on it, so it was smoking up the kitchen and it smelled bad. I walk into the kitchen thinking “what the hell is wrong in here, yuck now I have to breathe this $#!+” but I didn’t say it because I was busy listening to her rattle on about something- a story about how our friend Nikki lost her first tooth (For the record, she bit into a taco shell when she was 7 . Nikkie & Maddy share a birthday, and she’s really fun, so it makes Maddy feel special to have her as a friend and Maddy wants to lose her tooth on a taco shell now, so we’re having tacos for dinner)
Anyway, so I keep it to myself- about the smoke- and she walks through the door right behind me. You’d think she just opened the door to the Emerald City of Oz and wasn’t sure if she wanted to go home or not. “MOM- there are a million fairies in the air,” she says, in a lowered voice, lest she break the spell. She points out the sun rays piercing through a thinner patch of smoke and suddenly she’s overcome, enchanted; she’s a fairy. Her arms are raised in bliss and her head is tilted up to the receive the light, and she’s slowly spinning and humming, like angels were singing to her in her head.
To her, the smoky kitchen is beautiful, an amazing thing of wonder. To me, she is the thing of wonder. She’s soaking up the wonder and feeding it right back to me. How can anyone think kids are bad? There’s no bliss quite like experiencing the world through the lens of a child.
*”We often get distracted with this thing called our body and our physical being. That just HOLDS your spirit. And your spirit is so big it fills a room. You are eternal life. You are God manifested in human form, made to perfection.”- Lisa Nichols, The Secret
In the unschooling community, there’s a great respect for children’s inner wisdom. This week, for me, has been filled with confirmation that I need to follow my kids’ lead more often and to value their life’s experiences and authentic reactions.
Be fearless
I love going to the park and often, when we’re waiting for kids to finish their dance, drama or singing classes, we wait at the park where we swing, skate, climb, run or just do gymnastics in the grass. Yesterday, Maddy and I were doing tricks and she said “Can you do a front flip?” I said “no, can you?” It didn’t look like she even had time to think about the answer, she just did it. When she was done, I clapped my hands and said “Oh my goodness, I didn’t know you could do that, wow” and to my surprise, she said “Neither did I, I just did it.” I said “have you ever done it before?” and she said “no, I just did it.” WOW. OK. SO I did it. I was amused at my inner dialog, wondering whether or not she had mentally talked herself into it or if it really was as simple as she’d made it sound. In the end, I took a deep breath, pictured myself doing it a few times and just DID it. She was so excited for me, which was sweet. It was easier than I thought it would be and we both spent the next few minutes perfecting our front flips. I just thought it was funny, though, that I tell people “just do it” all the time and here I was being “schooled” by my 7 year old. Thank you, Maddy.
Flipping, for the fun of it
Love and conflict aren’t opposites
When my kids fight with each other, I don’t always handle it well. Over the years, I’ve gotten better. By stepping back and letting them work it through, I notice they end up fighting less. By discussing anger management techniques and communication skills during peaceful times (rather than in the heat of the moment) we’ve all learned how to avoid conflict or resolve it quicker, finding win-win situations and making allowances for one another’s preferences sometimes. But sometimes, I fail. The other day, Gabriella and Madelyn were fighting and Gabriella lowered her voice to a scary tone and threatened Madelyn. I snapped and made my own voice scary and told her to get out of the room until she could communicate without being mean (Ironic and pathetic, I know) Gabriella left the room and Madelyn looked at me with the sweetest face and said “It’s OK, Mommy, she can talk to me that way. She just wants her Barbie back. We were working it out. I’m not giving it to her until she gives me my doll’s dress back. I planned it this way.” I felt about half an inch tall. I brought Gabriella back and apologized for sending her out, I apologized for using a mean voice and I explained that I am still learning how to handle things nicely and I get upset when I think someone is being mean. I should have asked if they wanted my help first. Then I thanked Maddy for helping me understand the situation.
One of ten million pictures of Barbies my kids take almost every day
Forgive, forget and whistle while you work
My 2 year old LOVES to put her own laundry away. There are other household tasks she likes to do, too. She likes to scrub the kitchen table while I load the dishwasher, she loves to help push the clothes into the washing machine, she loves to help carry groceries in, she follows me around all day “helping.” Well the other day, I put her clothes into her drawer for her. She was so angry with me. She can’t reach her drawer, so when she puts her clothes away I have to lift her up (while she’s holding the folded clothes) and she puts them into the drawer. It seemed like more than I wanted to do at the moment. She was taking her shoes off and I didn’t feel like waiting until she was done, so I just put her clothes into her drawer. You would have thought I’d stabbed her with an ice pick. she grabbed her belly and screamed at me “You puttid my clothes away, I wanted to do it MYSELF.” Her little angry yell was adorable, her face was red and filled with tears. I snickered a little bit because she’s so tiny and so sweet and I loved that she was so passionate about it. I took the clothes OUT of the drawer and scooped her up to apologize (I really should have known better) Then, I helped her put her clothes away, like normal and she went on about her business, without the slightest sign of anger. Later on, she said “Mommy, I sorry I freaked out about my yaundry” and I apologized for putting it away. I really do love that she values her “work” and enjoys helping around the house. I have to remember that it’s ME who secretly wishes someone else would do the laundry, not her. I’m also proud of myself for not teaching her how to hate housework, when we clean, we sing and dance and have a very good time together. If I keep this up, she will gladly take over the responsibility one day. (not that I have any coercive ulterior motives, right)
Being in tune with my kids, communicating honestly and respecting their preferences and desires is a very important part of what goes on in our house. I am, by no means, perfect at this. Clearly, I screw up. We all screw up. But I guess we’ve been doing this long enough that we’ve established an open and constant dialog that they’ve mastered faster than I have. I will continue to be impressed and amazed by their pure love and sweet dispositions.
First of all, here are the top 5 reasons every woman needs a riding lawnmower for mother’s day
1- they’re white-noisy, which allows you to THINK – because listening to any thought that isn’t in your head is impossible
2- even if someone is yelling, you can’t hear anything and they can’t hear you either
3- so you can sing as loud as you want or yell or curse as loud as you want and no one will hear you
4- mowing the yard is fun
5- the engine vibrates
Everyone does things differently. In adults, we allow for this truth to be honored and respected. At work, everyone has a different job and that’s “his thing” No one would dare rearrange another man’s workspace, tell him to arrange his belongings a certain way, forbid him to listen to music while he works or check each step of his final process to ensure he “did it right”, though it happens to children. All. The. Time.
In adult relationships (except for religious courtship and arranged marriages), partners meet one another and spend a lot of time getting to know one another; learning how to make eachother happy and how to communicate, finding mutual hobbies, building memories and discovering what their preferences and tastes are and then, they may or may not consciously choose to call one another “family” through marriage.
But children don’t have that luxury. They’re born into our homes and unfortunately there’s a lot of people out there masquarading as “child development experts” that don’t even bother getting to know children. They force them into an “arranged marriage” of a relationship whereby the other partners (the parents) have already decided EVERYTHING.
Imagine how frustrating that would be.
But you’ve heard it. You’ve probably even DONE it. I used to say “My child will never play with a toy that isn’t made of natural materials, there will be no plastic in my home” or “My child will never wear shoes with cartoon characters on them, we’re not free advertising for corporations.” And I called these “responsible parenting decisions” because I was protecting this poor little thing. But what was I protecting her from?” LIFE? Making her own decisions? Reality, or do you prefer the term Pop culture?
Would you do that to ANYONE else out of love?
But children come in and surprise us. Every one of them has their own unique personality and identity from the DAY THEY are BORN.
But here are the experts saying “you can put ANY Child to bed at 7pm” and “At 2 months of age they need to drink 4 ounces every 3 hours and poop 125 grams at a time.” WTF? People buy that crap. People need to stop looking to parenting experts and just mow the lawn more often. So instead of buying into the idea that “In the 3rd month of 4th grade, students must memorize the capitol of every US state” and “the letters of the alphabet must be memorized in THIS order” and “the multiplication tables MUST be memorized in order to proceed…”
Remember being a kid. Do you remember what made you happy when you were a kid? Was it drawing, playing in the mud, swimming, wandering around aimlessly in the woods, building with blocks or boxes? What made you happy? How did you feel when someone told you not to do it? Or worse, criticized you for WANTING to follow your bliss all the time? Why did they tell us that THEIR agenda was more important than ours?
You were BORN whole and complete. Nothing you can think or want is wrong. We are here, in physical bodies, living in a world filled with stuff. This is a reality. Interacting with the stuff of the world can’t possibly be bad. Clearly, it cannot be denied that our minds function in order to decide what to DO with this physical body, this LIFE and the stuff that comes with it. The only way to do that and be true to our own design is to do the things that bring you joy, the things you’d CHOOSE to do without the influence of another human being. And allow our children the same respect, as humans.
that’s why it’s so important to rethink everything. Rethinking yourself, that may be a new way to look at depression. Each depression I’ve been through has represented a turning point in my life, I wonder if other women do that? I know many of us tell time by the ages of our children. I’ve looked at a photo and dated it by saying “That must have been in 2000 because I was standing by the blue chair I bought when I was pregnant with Gabriella but there’s no rip in the side, so it must been taken between April 25th and June 5th of 2000.” Surely, then, it’s not strange at all to look back and say “This was before the dog-death-depression” It almost sounds normal after the other example.
Anyway- so I’m mowing the lawn- 4 acres merits a riding lawnmower- and I realize that I have this crazy fucked up method of mowing. My husband (let me preface this for you) he makes perfect lines that run from one edge of the yard to another. Each one is spaced uniformly, as if he has placed cones as he was turning each corner or something. Honestly, I don’t know how he does it. Or why. I mean, sure it looks nice and all. If you like that sort of thing.
I have a different approach.
I’m arts-minded. I see the starry night of obstacles on my green canvas, OK. There are sprinklers to contend with. Trees, randomly sprinkled throughout the area. It’s an organic environment, we’ve got a mound of gopher holes here, sprinklers, like a graph, dotting through here. We’ve got “old doughboy pool, which, incidentally has a life of its own as my kids’ play area. There’s also “parked boat” and “big hole in the ground” and a bunch of other things. There’s 4 acres, man and it’s a busy place.
So- my lines are (in my opinion) just smarter than his.
Anyway, so here are my sweeping, flowing, ZEN lawnmowing lines. And here’s my husband’s industrial looking, hard, repetitive, BORING mowing lines.
Honestly, so why do we tolerate one another’s strange lawnmowing techniques? Because that’s what it means to be human. If wavy artsy lines inspire me, then that’s part of who I am. It’s the same reason we tolerate a messy desk, shoes that don’t quite make it into the closet and constant singing. because there’s really no reason to fight about these things.
There was a time when my husband and I would have fought over the lawn mowing. When we were first married, we bickered a lot.
“How come you can’t just do it RIGHT?”
“Right? so there’s a right and wrong way to cut the fucking grass? Come on- who the heck cares, it will grow back in a few days anyway- those lines don’t show up all the time and so what if they did? Are wavy lines THAT offensive? Let me tell you if a helicopter was looking for survivors on this landscape our wavy lines could SAVE YOUR LIFE, OK. So don’t tell me there’s a right and wrong way to mow the lawn because I see way more benefits to MY WAY, OK?”
But we never had that conversation, we’ve matured a lot over the years. Instead, he just decided just to mow the lawn without me around and keep it mowed so I couldn’t get to it. One day, though, as it happens, I heard him mowing and it sounded like so much fun. I’d been writing descriptions of hairstyles for a client for nearly 5 hours and was restless. So I went out and asked him to give me a turn. I covered about an acre with beautiful wavy mowing lines, watching the grass change colors by each row, rejoicing in not shredding anything messy, watching the grasshoppers hop away and hoping not to hear a field mouse’s squealing death (it happens). I was enjoying being alone; just me and the mower and a few of my favorite musicians. I sang at the to of my lungs to Paramore, Pink, Evanescence and a little bit of Nine Inch Nails and probably a few others, I forget. And that was the point. For a few long minutes I got to make art of my yard, feel the wind in my hair and SING as loud as I could.
But there’s more to it than that (There always is)
Once the kids got wind that mommy was mowing, they wanted rides, too. They’d ridden with Dad earlier and wanted to ride with me now. One by one, we made yard art.
Gabriella had a thousand questions for me about the engine. she also orally calculated the amount of days between everyone’s birth date. Then we had to discuss the various grains that grow like grass does, and speculate whether we were mowing rice, wheat or barley.
Madelyn was queit, watching the cut grass spray out of the sides and performing the Heimlich maneuver on me each time we went over a bump.
Evelyn shouted “woohoo” in my ears every 2 seconds and narrated for me, like a sportscaster. “We going this way now, we gonna hit tree mommy, can’t hit the tree.” and then again like Dustin Hoffman in Rainman “gotta go around it, gotta go around the tree”
And it hits me- this is how humans are supposed to co-exist. I’m BLISSFULLY doing my own thing- mowing the lawn and the girls are welcome to come join me. I learn about myself and the world from the girls by just watching them be whoever they are than I would ever learn by trying to make them be something else. In addition, they get to explore and experience new things every day, by my side. Never abandoned, never alone, never un-parented as the unschooling naysayers would imply.
There’s nothing wrong with mowing in lines, mowing wavy or mowing a herringbone zig zag. In fact, you might win some kind of award for that last one, surely that’s a recognized art form. I’d vote for you.
There’s nothing wrong with narrating the day, examining the infinite combinations of numbers in your world or holding on for dear life. This is who we are. I am me and you are you and if I want to truly serve ANYONE then I need to see that I’m not taking away from the happiness of those around me. Servitude isn’t lowly, it’s not a burden. Caring for the kids IS heaven. I chose this and they deserve to have me approach each conversation with as much love and open-ness as a ride on the lawnmower. See, they don’t care what the path looks like, they just want to be with us. I was waiting for one of the kids to point out my wayward mowing technique, but they never did. Even as I criss-crossed over my own lines and looped around obstacles, leaving crop circles in the yard, they never noticed. They were just enjoying the ride.
So next time someone asks “Why unschool?” my answer will probably not be very helpful. “You can learn a lot from mowing the lawn.”
My 2 yr old is reaching for a basket. She’s in my arms and it’s just out of her reach. She grunts and says “Help me reach it mommy” (but not like that, it’s more like 2 words “hewlpme reachitmommy”) and I lean over so she can reach.
I discover she was really reaching for the crochet hook inside. It’s hooked around one of the basket’s bottom pieces of straw, so the basket comes, too. She laughs “gottit bakstick mommy” and I turn to see why she’s laughing. She’s fumbling to get the basket off the hook.
I’d rather her play with the basket than the hook. It looks like she’s caught a fish. I tell her so and she thinks it’s funny.
She frees the crochet hook and looks in the basket. (which seems way more fun than the hook now, luckily) There’s nothing in there, obviously. She gives me a funny look. “Got fish in there?” She asks me. I said “You do?” and she decides that this is fun and plays along.
“Yeah, I got jellyfish in there, hold it.” I had a traumatic jellyfish issue in Hawaii when I was 9. Portugese man-o-wars, to be exact. I strung them all over my arms and stomped around the beach like a sea monster. A few hours later I was soaking in the tub with herbs and potions under the supervision of the local witch doctor, waiting for the swelling to go down and for signs of emergency, which would involve an air lift to the hospital. It wasn’t much fun. Nor was it fun that my Grandma stood over in the doorway, alerting everyone in the neighborhood that my breasts had begun to develop. To this day, I think she scared them. I’m not messing with jellyfish, I tell my daughter.
“No way, jellyfish sting, I don’t want to hold jellyfish.” “Oh” she looks down, a little dismayed, so I suggest she catches another kind of fish. She dumps the jellyfish back into the imaginary sea and catches “nahwahn fish” (another one fish) to show me. We admire the fish. it’s wet and floppy. She says that it “yooks yummy” but I’m not so easily convinced. She wants to go upstairs and show the girls. But first, she dumps out the new fish in order to catch more jellyfish.
So I go upstairs with her because it’s time for the nightly bedtime ritual anyway. I’ve mentioned before that we don’t have bedtimes, instead we just hang out and the kids still fall asleep.
Just because we don’t have a bedtime, it doesn’t mean we don’t go to bed, and it doesn’t mean we don’t have similar bedtime rituals. Ours are just more fun
Generally, We snuggle in on the 9 yr old’s bed, I go through a nightly checklist “did you brush your teeth?” and when the answer isn’t “yes of course” I sometimes ask “are you going to?” (only one sometimes doesn’t want to. A piggyback ride down the stairs usually solves it, she doesn’t like to be downstairs alone) Then we make sure feet are clean, especially in the summer. We make sure jammies are on, I collect the dirty clothes basket, helping make sure their toy are put away and sometimes we watch a movie.
The other day we had a great time making friendship bracelets. Sometimes we just tell stories or play word games or board games. Usually we read books, They each pick one (because I can guarantee I won’t fall asleep through 1 book each. If I’m still conscious when those are done, I’ll read more. The limit of 1 book is imposed because I tend to fall asleep reading and jumble the words, which the find amusing until they discover I can’t read anymore.
Tonight, I went in to escort Evelyn & her jellyfish, then read to them (not knowing exactly what was in store, I never do).
When we reached the top of the stairs, she goes in to my 16 yr old’s room first. “Embahlee, yookit, i got jellyfish. see jellyfish. yookit me bakstick (basket)” and she proceeds to show Emilee her basket and Emilee is notably impressed. Then we head out (cordial goodbyes and goodnights included) While I’m busy giving Emilee a goofy look, Evelyn is yelling to me from the hall “gum on mommy yets go” We arrive into the younger girl’s room and Evelyn goes from girl to girl, telling them about her jellyfish. They’re almost completely ignoring her and she’s annoyed, so I announce out loud. “Evelyn has caught some jellyfish in her basket and came all the way upstairs to show you girls.”
Within 5 minutes, we’re all sitting on the bed, pretending to catch fish in the ocean from our boat (the bed).
So yes, it’s true. We don’t have bedtimes.
But we do have bedtime rituals, which consist of enjoying each moment together until our bodies would rather sleep.
We sing songs, we make art projects, we watch documentaries, web videos, broadway shows and silent movies and old musicals or music videos, we draw or write or work out puzzles in schoolbooks or coloring books. Our bedtime stories, when we read them (sometimes 20 minutes a day, sometimes 90 minutes, sometimes zero minutes a day, even a week at times) may be fiction or nonfiction, color or black and white, classic or new or used, bought with allowance or given as a gift. They may be bestsellers, and sometimes they suck. Sometimes they’re not even in English, or a language we understand. It’s not about the books, it’s about the time we spend together. And falling asleep should be a pleasant part of one’s day.
So no, we don’t have a bedtime and we don’t fight about going to sleep. I’m not concerned about their sleeping habits because I don’t make a habit of scheduling things that will interfere with their natural sleepy times.
I’m not afraid that they won’t “learn to sleep” because they already know how to sleep. I don’t feel the need to manipulate their sleep times. It’s exhausting enough keeping up with their awake times.
After the deep-sea fishing expedition, we settled down. When the girls agreed upon tonight’s bedtime plan, we were to watch Dora the Explorer, then the 2nd half of Hannah Montana (they fell asleep last time, so we agreed that we’d have to watch the rest tonight)
The kids laughed at me when I mistakenly referred to “The Hoedown Throw Down” as “The Barnyard Stomp.” I was impressed that they knew the entire dance. That’s Gabriella’s favorite song. Because Gabriella got to play her favorite song for me, we needed to play Madelyn’s, too. She’s 6 and teeny, shrimpy, petite and squeaky. But she knows all the words to “The Climb” and I really had to fight back the tears. Who knew Hannah Montana had such a positive message? I sure hope she maintains her good-girl image.
Anyway, I asked the girls where they wanted the dolls (because the bed was covered with barbies, all of whom were arranged in rows, with swimsuits and beach blankets (made of socks and washcloths)
Grace swooshed them all off the bed into a pile in one motion. I started picking them up & said “Which toybox do these belong in?’ and Gabriella (not at all offended by Grace’s swooshing, by the way) said “They don’t go in a toybox, mom. They have a life, you know. They each go to their own houses, and she proceeded to place them all over the room, carefully into lifelike positions. The other girls seemed to know where each doll’s house is and what position they should be in. Most of the dolls were in beds, but some were sitting and reading, others were on their computer, one had to get in the car & drive all night to get to the airport and some were on the phone (presumably with each other)
The putting Barbies “away” took about ten minutes and when it was complete, I asked that the light be turned off so we could watch the movie. Someone pushed play & we watched the rest of the film, snuggled in together. By the time it ended, only I was awake.
I headed downstairs feeling like the luckiest mom in the world. When I hear other moms say “I know you don’t have a bedtime but I need to put my kids to bed at 7:30 or I will go crazy” I just shake my head. I’m not sure what they picture, but nothing is more fun or relaxing than allowing sleep to come, giving in to what the children want and just being present with them, approaching the end of the day with love and patience, allowing things to be put in order and letting love define the time, rather than the clock.
So what if it was almost 10:30 when I left their room. Instead of going in at 6am to wake them up (before the sun rises) for school, I get to sip my coffee (relishing one of the rare silent moments in my day) tiptoe in and kiss their foreheads. I get to make pancakes in peace and quiet, wondering which child will wake up to the smell & greet me with stinky kisses first. I’m not a morning person. Peacefulness and love, to begin and end each day, that’s what I need for my sanity.
I really love it when I realize I’m failing at something because it gives me a clear and present opportunity to improve. Seriously.
So a friend of mine, who is enrolled in a political science class, emails me to send me a quote from a Supreme court judge who is dealing with a case where a high school student was suing for a 1st amendment violation. The quote is:
when States developed public education systems in the early 1800’s, no one doubted the government’s ability to educate and discipline children as private schools did. Like their private counterparts, early public schools were not places for freewheeling debates or exploration of competing ideas. Rather, teachers instilled “a core of common values” in students and taught them self-control. Reese 23; A. Potter & G. Emerson, The School and the Schoolmaster: A Man-ual 125 (1843) (“By its discipline it contributes, insensibly, to generate a spirit of subordination to lawful authority, a power of self-control, and a habit of postponing present indulgence to a greater future good . . .”
By that measure, apparently, schools really are succeeding. They’re reaching their initial goal, as planned, to raise generations of Americans who don’t debate or ask questions, blindly trusting their leadership. So there it is.
Me being me, however, I kept replaying the words in my mind throughout the day, emphasizing each syllable differently, to see if the meaning could possibly be anything else, more innocent, more sinister, ANYTHING.
I’m moving through my “tasks-I-do-when-the-kids-are-very-involved-in-something” like hanging the laundry and doing the dishes. The kids were making miniature books upstairs, measuring, cutting, planning, designing… I overhear a fight between the girls and I listen long enough to get the gist of it and then I head upstairs to “say something.”
I swear, I should just keep my mouth shut. Why am I homeschooling when words of wisdom like this can extinguish any debate and communication that my kids DESERVE to engage in. Here’s what I said:
“I am sure that when she called it her room she wasn’t trying to minimize the fact that it’s your room, too. Stop picking apart every word that she says and trying to make it into a fight. So she said it was her room. Big deal. it’s your room, too. And just because she says “my room” that doesn’t make it any less “your room”
Then I went downstairs. Surely in my wake they were filed with peacefulness at having the situation resolved, right? Fat chance.
So in one bossy-mom-sick-of-hearing-the-arguing-incident, I managed to squash one of my favorite personal traits, and that is the picking-apart-of-language-to-get-the-deeper-meaning and also, standing up for oneself, defending property and debating semantics…. all of it, out the window, just because my sensitive ears were bothered.
Debate is so very important for civilized society. I hate conflict, my sister and I fought a lot as kids. Is there a link? We always got in trouble for fighting. Does that matter? As a mom I am always wanting to protect my kids (even from one another), but when I look back at my childhood, I don’t remember very much fighting. I don’t think I was as much influenced by the fights as I was by the feeling that “fighting is bad.”
I am so sick, today, of examining every thought I have in order to determine whether or not it’s worth keeping or tossing. The inclination to squash their fights and sort things out for them definitely needs to go. Sibling rivalry is totally a healthy way to learn about communication. Animal siblings do it and humans should, too.
Had their fight continued, they both might have come away with a deeper understanding of the need to communicate precisely. They might have physically hurt one another. They might have come away bitter about the distinction between mine and yours. they might have revisited the argument months later when the other sister made the dire mistake of saying “my room” instead of “our room” or perhaps the room-claimer would have been able to explain her way out of it, or apologize. Either way. I shouldn’t have stepped in. Kids have the right to communicate their feelings with one another honestly and openly. The best thing I can probably do for them is to model communication skills. Eventually, they’ll copy. I see this every day, they copy my good and my bad “behavior.”
This is their journey, not mine. If they feel the need to say hurtful things to one another, they deserve to see the honest result of that decision, not ME standing there, passing judgment upon their character, criticizing their instinctive communication, evaluating their worth, or predicting a life of misery.
I reserve the right, though, to call it like I see it. Instead of “seeing” a fight that needs resolved, I could have chosen to see “kids that could use some apple juice” and shouted upstairs to see who wants some.
While I probably won’t be marching upstairs to force peace upon them anymore (especially if I get an ipod for Xmas) I can totally discuss conflict resolution methods with them during peaceful times. In fact, we do that all the time.
This is where media comes in. Books, television and movies are filled with conflict and almost always, the viewers can think of different ways that the main character could have handled the situation.
The Thomas Jefferson method of homeschooling, which, along with the trivium, is the backbone for all classical education curricula, is highly dependent upon discussion. That’s right, talking. Our house sounds like a hen house sometimes with all of the girls involved in lengthy debates over the books they’re reading or the movies they’ve seen.
(Hey- another reason I need an ipod, my older girls & I can listen to audio books)
Anyway- the literature and books you read, discuss and debate become part of you. Some families use this as an excuse for limiting the books they allow their children to readfall in love with learn from. A lady in our local homeschool group wouldn’t let her son read Harry Potter because of this. I’m so NOT into censorship, and I believe that there’s good to be found in everything. We loved Harry Potter, and saw every movie the minute it opened, waited in line at midnight for the books to be released (in costume, no less) Our debates and discussions about the HP series were fantastic, and none of us came away with thoughts of malice. How could we?
So if anyone can name a book or movie where the characters debate everything based upon the meanings of the words, something that my 9 and 6-yr-olds would appreciate, then please let me know. Because this is the depth of how far I feel comfortable intervening. I can’t wait to look back & say “remember when you girls used to fight about every single word.” Hopefully the end result will be a deep and full understanding of the workings of language and increased, tried-and-tested communication skills.
And the pointless after-words: (because I don’t “do” short stories very well) is that on November 19th he went in and once January rolls around we can be quite sure and positive that every last one of them will be gone and we can MOVE ON from this phase in life (as much as we love it, of course)
Trying to explain to the kids was funny, though. They like to wrestle with him and jump on him. Madelyn (6) was worried to pieces when she heard he had surgery, she thought for sure there was something wrong. I mean, people don’t just GET surgery for no reason, right?
And Grace (4) was concerned that we “didn’t want any more kids.” She thought we were saying that we “don’t want kids anymore” and she was crying, she said “But we still want you” and it was the most adorable, pathetic thing, she just about broke my heart.
I spent some time reassuring her and explaining it a little more, I am sure that she understands better now. It’s just a reminder to take the time to communicate with kids (to their understanding) and to stay “connected” to be sure that they’re feeling secure and safe.
So anyway- that’s the biggest thing I am thankful for. Here are a few others:
1- I’m grateful for the luxury to work from home, control my own income and set my own hours, I wish I could share that with more moms.
2- I’m grateful that even though our families are all so far away, we’re able to keep in touch over Facebook and the kids can have relationships with our families, too even though we rarely see them in real life.
3- I’m grateful for my kids who are so fun to be around. Nothing is more fun than watching them grow up and embrace this amazing world that we live in. I love their righteous indignation at the world’s injustices. I love their questioning nature, grilling me for details so they can come to their own conclusions. I love to see their passions develop, to watch them learn about the world simply by doing what they enjoy. I love how quickly they notice the beauty in everything around them.
I see a rock, they see a million colorful spots all coming together into one mass that looks gray from just a few inches away. I see a ladybug and they see a small life, crawling along for a reason. They wonder where he’s going and why. They wonder what he’s feeling- is he scared of them? I wonder if I should step on it.
4- I’m grateful for blogging because of the wonderful friends I’ve made online and the women who inspire me, encourage me and make me a better mom
5- I’m grateful for my real-life friends, nothing can quite compare to girlfriends, can it? I hope that you are all enjoying this day with your families, and looking forward to dinner at the Indian restaurant in December, the roller-skating party, the Mom’s Xmas party, and exchanging cheer this holiday season.
6- I am grateful to live in a world where everything we want is within reach. Knowledge is free, a diverse field of perspectives and views enable us to see our own more clearly, and humans are ready to share their experiences, interest and knowledge with one-another, for the good of all.
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A word about our Thanksgiving “Dinner.”
The way that cooking has developed in our home over the past few months, we’re taking a very nontraditional approach to Thanksgiving this year.
I slow-roasted the turkey overnight (yep, it was completely frozen when I stuck it in the oven at 5 p.m. and I just took it out at 5 a.m. When the kids get up we’ll have banana pancakes and as they’re ready they’ll pop into the kitchen to make their side-dish with me. I haven’t done Thanksgiving in such a small kitchen before, so we plan to just cook and eat all day, without a specific meal time, probably. It’s not like we all fit at the table anyway.
We generally go see a movie on Thanksgiving but we’ve decided to save up money to attend the Unschooler’s Adventure cruise to Jamaica, Haiti and Cozumel in April.
It’s a very lofty goal, but our travel come-documentary that we’ve been working on for the past 6 years is coming into fruition as we speak. We have assembled an awesome team of producers who are passionate about the product and have worked their butts off making it something better than even we imagined. (and we’re quite imaginative)
I wish I could announce more about that, give me a week or so and you’ll hear all about it. Let’s just say that we have quite an adventure planned over the next year.
About that Cruise- Jamaican beaches, The warm waters of the Gulf of Mexico, Ancient Mayan Ruins, can I even express how much my heart swells to think that my family could be present in the same space as something so fascinating and ancient.
And also to share a great blog I found from a family who lives in their RV. It’s called Where the Fuhkaui. I love their blog’s tagline:
“Travel is fatal to prejudice, bigotry, and narrow-mindedness, and many of our people need it sorely. Broad, wholesome, charitable views can not be acquired by vegetating in one’s little corner of Earth.” – Mark Twain
Sometimes when homeschoolers or unschoolers are trying to explain how life and learning are naturally integrated, they use the example of cooking. I tried to intellectualize it in the article Cooking with Kids, but last night’s dinner hour was particularly good example of this “in action.”
All my girls love to cook. In fact, I was telling a friend the other day that sometimes we don’t have official “meals” because there’s someone cooking something all day long. A plate full of crackers with melted cheese, a blender full of fruit smoothies, a recipe someone saw on TV or invented from scratch. With so many people who like to cook, dividing our meals into specific menus really made it more work than is necessary.
Maddy (6) & Gabriella (8) like cook and serve food. When I am in my room working and the older girls are upstairs doing whatever t is older girls do (gossip, watch TV, write stories and song, dance or listen to music…) Maddy & Gabriella like to come around and offer everyone food.
Last night I was making dinner and Maddy came in, saying “I need a pan… the noodle-y kind”
In the past, I may have said “what for?” or otherwise grilled her, and come to the conclusion that since I’m making Dinner, she doesn’t need to cook. Instead, though, I just accepted that she needed a pan and decided to work on dinner alongside her, as equals.
So I opened the dishwasher (they rarely get a chance to cool off and get put away until we need them again) and I showed her all the clean noodle pans, she rejoiced with so much enthusiasm, saying “You are a master.” I thought that was pretty cute, but the conversation just kept getting better.
So we’re cooking together, she told Emilee that she’d make her a Top Ramen (blech) She knew how to prepare it all by herself. I wanted to carry the pan full of water for her, but we settled on having me bring it down from the sink. (me, being a control freak)
So she carried it to the stove, not missing a single drop. (physics)
Afterward, I said “Wow Maddy, I underestimated you. You really kept that balanced well” and she said “thank you. I know how to cook things because you showed me. I can just see you doing things and it makes me see that I can do them, too.” (self awareness, love of learning, gratitude, communication)
I was unloading the dishwasher when she said that and it was so relaxed and easy just being together. She was so proud, so articulate. (LIFE- kids are wiser than we give them credit for)
We made jello together, too. It was her first time making it. She was surprised that it was made with hot water because when she eats it, it’s cold. We discussed how the hot water melts the crystals and makes them swell up and the refrigeration glues them back together. (chemistry, physics) We measured water (doubling the recipe for math)
Both Maddy and Grace wanted to pour the crystals into the bowl. It takes 2 boxes for our family, so Grace (4) poured the first one and Maddy poured the second one. I pointed out that the pink Jello mix was the same color as their jammies. When we poured water into it, the girls pointed out that the red liquid was the same color as my shirt. We discussed the idea that everything pink turns red when wet and decided that it depends what it is. Pink toys won’t turn red. pink paint won’t turn red and their jammies would just look darker. (science, math, communication)
When the noodles she was making her sister were ready, I brought them out with a fork and asked “does she like the noodles with a lot of broth or a little? Maddy said a little and we both agreed that she preferred more firm noodles rather than mushy ones. Although Maddy likes them better mushy and I don’t like them at very much all. Maddy said “Everybody likes different things mommy, and that’s OK” (scientific observation, communication, Psychology)
Then she said “nobody would like cabbage and radish and (list of yucky things) in their noodles” so I said “there are some things everyone agrees upon, huh” I reminded her that perhaps in some country, some people eat that every day and it’s their favorite thing. (social studies)
She carried the soup upstairs to her sister, brought down the dirty dishes and said “Mom, I love cooking with you.”
These are the times that I wish more people understood. There’s no need to “make learning fun” because it already is. All we need to do is relax, and share our lives with our children. imagine- trying to pack all of that into a lesson plan for a first grader. Look at the insanity of standardized education. Look at what we would NOT have learned if I had said “I’m making dinner, sweetie. get out of the kitchen.”
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Upstairs, while we were cooking Dinner and the three oldest were watching a movie, Emilee asked Gabriella (8) what she should put as her facebook status.
Gabriella’s response:
” follow your heart, your heart will lead you to where you want to go.”
Watching my kids learn has been the most fascinating aspect of not sending them to school. Partly, I’m sad for the children whose education isn’t self-driven, because the “love of learning” face that toddlers are known for grows more beautiful the older a child gets.
At 4, Grace is very helpful around the house. Recently, she wanted to help me fold laundry. She sat by my side, wadding things up into little blobs while I obsessively created perfect folded squares. She looked at her pile and said “Mommy, show me how you fold.” So I did, we started with long sleeve shirts and she mastered it after 2-3 of them. Madelyn (6) came in and Grace was beaming at her new “pile” of perfectly folded shirts.
At 6, Madelyn is enjoying writing notes. Of course it’s faster to speak out loud but she is enjoying writing notes. She’s been playing Farmville and Yoville and some other silly FaceBook games and she has friends who write her notes while she plays. She loves chatting online with her friends and has decided that she’d rather communicate with everyone in writing. I must have spelled “I love you” out loud for her a thousand times last week. She doesn’t want me to write it for her to copy, she just wants me to say the names of the letters, including spaces and punctuation, for her to transcribe. She runs into the room several times a day to ask “Mom, how do you spell “get your stinky feed off of my pillow or you can’t be on my bed anymore” or maybe “Please please please get out of the bathroom I need to pee.” If I don’t say “space” or comma” when it’s time, she gives me an odd look. If a word doesn’t look right to her, she says “Are you sure this is spelled right?” At the end of each note, she EXPECTS a period, a question mark or an exclamation mark.When I don’t tell her to write one, she asks “Is this a complete sentence?
The kids have set up a system of mailboxes at everyone’s door and spend all day long passing notes throughout the house. So they’re learning to write and read and use punctuation and capitalization through love, through the desire to communicate. At this point, I can’t even imagine another way anymore. Imagine being assigned “Write “I love you” fifty times today. Wouldn’t that be ridiculous? It’s become increasingly ridiculous to me that kids are taught reading and writing OUTSIDE of the desire to communicate. THAT is what reading and writing are for. No wonder schools fail, when written communication is irrelevant.
At 12, Meagan spent many years as a victim of our aggressive work schedules. There just wasn’t much time or money to do the things she wanted to do. She always wanted to do Soccer but I could never find the sign-up information and Saturday 7am practices and games were NOT something we wanted to participate in. Actually- here, they practice like 3 days a week and play games on Saturdays at the crack of Dawn. So this year she decided she wants to take tapdancing. It works for us. We signed her up for a class for her age group and all of the girls in the class have been dancing since they were toddlers. The teacher showed them the dance really quickly. Meagan felt a bit lost, like she was in over her head. She set up the laptop in the kitchen and watched youtube to learn the beginner’s moves. She practiced tapping in the kitchen for hours and hours and hours. She didn’t even consider giving up. At class yesterday, she remembered the entire routine. She practices at home all the time. It’s noisy, but beautiful. She’s taking jazz, too and her smile is just phenomenal when she dances.
Learning is beautiful, when it’s rooted in love. Sometimes it’s my 6 yr old pleased to present us with personalized love notes or surprising us with notes she’s spelled on her own. Sometimes it’s my 4 yr old screaming at anyone who tries to fold a long-sleeve shirt because that’s her responsibility and sometimes it’s my 12 yr old tapdancing in the kitchen at 2am.
I am not a “morning person.” I wake up confused, my eyes are blurry, my voice is gritty and my body moves slowly. I tumble into the kitchen, straight for the coffee pot and stare at it cross-eyed until there’s enough to fill my cup. Sometimes I squat in the kitchen so I don’t have to use any muscles or energy to stand up.
Because of this (and the fact that it’s easier for me to work when they’re asleep) I get up between 5 and 6 a.m. while my kids don’t start waking up until 9 or so.
I have a happier day when I can wake up to peace and take care of my needs for coffee,solitude and silence before tending to the needs of the children. The kids have a happier day when the first words they hear are “Good morning sunshine” rather than “quit stomping on the stairs please.”
Most of my kids wake up chipper and happy, eager to get on with the business of whatever they’re interested in. Sometimes in the night, they find their way into my bed. There’s always someone extra in there when we wake up. This morning it was Grace, she’s 4 years old. She wakes up and rubs her eyes a little, looks around the room and smiles when I say “good morning.” Then she turns and snuggles in, saying “good morning” to the baby, kissing each one of her little toes. Within minutes, they’re giggling, kissing and hugging and asking for pancakes.
When the pancakes are ready, they come to the table, holding hands and Grace insists that their plates be identical this morning. Matching plates are rare in our house
Madelyn (6) comes down the stairs, we can hear her stomping. She’s a skinny little girl but sometimes I think she’s trying to press her foot through the stairs. Her first words to her sisters are “good morning” and she gives them each a kiss before sitting at the table for pancakes.
The other kids are asleep, it’s just me and the younger half most mornings. I don’t usually eat breakfast, I usually zip over to my computer to finish up whatever it is that I was working on when they woke up. As they finish their breakfast, they’re planning their first adventure for the day. “Grace, wanna go pick flowers with me?” or “Maddy I’m going to take a bath.” Every day it’s something new.
Some days I have surprises planned. Whether it’s an art project or a “field trip” (is there a non-school-y term for this… going somewhere just to learn more?) they’re usually excited about the plans I make. Since we both work from home, everyone doesn’t HAVE to go with us.
So what do your mornings look like? I was listening to a call-in radio show where the caller said something about how he can’t work from home because his kids go to school, the house is too loud in the morning. The host said “I know what you mean man, mornings are the worst.” Which was followed by an article I stumbled across that was trying to teach parents how to help their kids wake up in the morning for school.
I found the advice a bit sad, “Don’t let them press snooze” was probably the most painful. I remember how much I hated waking up for school as a kid, especially in high school. I’ve often thought that the “answer” to some of the problems schools have would be to operate a set of classes between noon and 6pm instead of forcing everyone to comply with the 8am-2pm thing. What’s wrong with waking up and getting a good start to the day. With school kids and their parents so over-scheduled, a 12noon start-time might help everyone start their day with a hearty breakfast and a peaceful home instead of the yelling, stress and rushing around that I hear so much about. Sure, some people function better in the morning, I’m not one of them, though.
I’m kinda sick of seeing so many programs for kids in poverty.
All over the place, it’s like saying that it’s expensive to help your kids be healthy or to learn or something. That could not be farther from the truth. Knowledge is everywhere, information is free. Everything a child could ever want or need to know can be conveyed without spending a dime, simply through conversation or google.
There’s absolutely no logical reason that a child from a family with an income of x should be at a disadvantage upon entering kindergarten than a child whose parents earn xxx,xxx. no reason at all. In fact, I will speculate that a mom who makes it her job to communicate with her kids all day, playing games and having fun, instead of working outside the home will bring down the family’s income base and possibly cause her kids to be “at risk” from a financial standpoint.
Oh wait- our government offers financial incentives for working women, bringing down their base income so that they can afford childcare. Does that mean that two-income families can also be “at risk?”
I think we need to change the terminology here because raising kids on a low income doesn’t automatically make them less intelligent, less healthy or otherwise place them at a disadvantage, period. In fact, I reckon that the TRUE cause of poor health in children is not poverty, but poor nutrition and lack of exercise, both of which our country promotes and encourages by spending so much money funding the processed food industry and promoting “early childhood education” which involves turning active, interested and engaged little children into mindless lazy robots.
Growing your own food and eating fresh local produce is not expensive. Eating processed foods causes malnutrition. For children to get exercise, all they need is open space outdoors. Most parks don’t charge admission. If you have a yard, that’s even better. People give away bicycles all the time if you don’t have the $100 or so that it takes to buy one brand new. You could also get one at a yard sale. Working in that homegrown garden is also a great way to get exercise. Perhaps children who aren’t getting exercise, regardless of their parent’s financial situation, are lacking energy from proper nutrition or aren’t allowed to play outside.
Where is this information that impoverished kids are at a disadvantage? Seriously, I’d like to see something that proves, statistically (because that’s how I am) that children of any race are at a disadvantage simply because of their parent’s economic situation, and not because of the rest of their lifestyle.
There isn’t any, because money is just a SYMBOL. Money is made up. Our income level means absolutely nothing when it comes to the health or intelligence of our kids, it’s WHAT WE EAT and HOW WE LIVE that puts kids at risk, not the income. When “poor” families choose to grow a vegetable garden, they can eat like kings on a grocery budget that’s just a fraction of what the average American spends eating junk.
In poorer areas of the world where they grow all their own food, they don’t have the health problems we have here (obesity, diabetes, cancer) because they’re eating REAL FOOD and not high fructose corn syrup or other garbage, refined flours, isolated starches and preservatives.
The numbers in the checkbook don’t mandate which books I read my children. In fact, did you know that “The Classics” which are supposed to make kids smarter as per the Thomas Jefferson method of education and the Well Trained Mind, are available for free download because they’re in the public domain. So don’t go complaining that your extensive literature collection cost a fortune, that’s a CHOICE. Once again, an impoverished family could share the same exposure to The Great Books that a family with money can. And libraries are free.
I know plenty of families who manage to live well on a low income. I also know plenty of moms with high family incomes who are saving and investing much of their income, rather than spending it on whatever it is that is supposed to make their kids smarter, and basically enjoying the same free and cheap lifestyle choices that the “poverty” moms do. The children are experiencing the same lifestyle, and both thriving. It’s not the bank balance that gives kids an advantage.
We’ve had our financial ups and downs over the years and there are advantages to both. That’s right, there are advantages to poverty and disadvantages to having money.
Our health care needs have not changed over the years, we rarely get ill. Mainly, what we miss when our income is low would be traveling. Surely there are studies showing that kids who travel are at an advantage, right? And how do they define disadvantaged anyways?
I’m not that impressed by all these programs that spend a fortune buying formula (with taxpayers money) for women who could be nursing (for free) and so called “nutrition” programs that buy a certain number of dairy products and processed cereals, with no regard for their cost, instead of actually teaching women how to read nutrition labels and grow a garden (SURPRISE- real food doesn’t even HAVE labels) Then, when kids are pumped full of high fructose corn syrup (subsidized by the government) they get state-funded health care for all the cavities and medical problems that the processed foods cause.
It’s not poverty that causes children to be ill or lack intelligence, it’s stupidity and well-intentioned “solutions” that presume to know all the answers without factoring in the importance of frugality, honoring nature’s design and the importance of healthy human relationships.
Even my very favorite magazine, Mothering, is guilty of this. So many times I’ve seen articles about “America’s poverty crisis.” In my mind, it’s not the poverty that’s a problem. It’s the decisions that families make about how to live, what to eat and how to entertain and transport themselves that impact a child’s experiences.
These programs for poverty do ONE productive thing, and that’s to send a message to parents and children that without money, you have no hope. Without money, you can’t take care of yourself. Without money, you have to depend upon the government for help. Why are these programs so widely publicized? Because a fearful population is easy to control.
Surely the IRS could raise funds by operating an opt-in mailing program, distributing information to families whose income ratio meets certain requirements, based upon tax returns. That would probably be cheaper than having each individual poverty-based-resource out there posting billboards, television and magazine ads perpetuating the myth that lack of income is the sole factor in determining a family’s effectiveness, instead of focusing on the OTHER factors like lifestyle, nutrition and happiness.
Poverty is a symptom, or perhaps a side effect, but not a disease.
And with that, I leave you with a video that you simply MUST watch if you’re making any kind of car payment.
The trip we just took to San Juan was exhausting, but wonderful. In my mind, being stuck in the car for hours was probably the worst part. Having 8 souls with different needs occupying a mere 25 square feet (my guess) makes for some piercing shrieks, lots of crumbs, inopportune pee breaks, cramped bodies that want to lay and stand and climb rather than sitting still and disagreements over the radio.
Nonetheless, the morning after we returned home, I found the kids in the living room playing car with all of the dining room chairs. I was mopping the kitchen and moved the chairs into the living room. ince we don’t really have a dining room right now, our table is in the kitchen.
Evelyn is actually sitting in a car seat that gGrace had grown out of and the baby doll is sitting in the infant seat that Evelyn grew out of. They had water bottles and even backpacks (stowed under the seat in front of them like an airplane) They sat there “driving” for at least half an hour. They sang to the music on the radio, they promised to get off at the next exit to go potty, they saw amazing things out the window and when they finally “arrived’ at their destination the backseat passengers all climbed out one door.
Best of all, the kitchen floor was able to dry without little footprints on it, or anyone getting hurt. It’s not that I don’tt love little footprints, but come on, we’ve had little footprints for the past 15 years. Hooray for road trips:)
Wow- can this have been the best day in our family’s life so far? We arrived at the loading dock for the ferry on time, since I misread the itinerary and didn’t realize that our crossing was figured into the time line. There’s nothing like thinking you’ll be driving for 2 hours and only ending up driving for an hour. Anyways, the hotel breakfast wasn’t much to speak of. I always realize what a picky eater I am at hotel breakfasts. Thank goodness it’s complimentary, and that my kids aren’t nearly as picky as I am. Give them some mini boxes of cereal, juice they can dispense themselves, individually wrapped tablespoons of cream cheese on cold bagels and my girls are in heaven. And coffee, with flavored creamers. Isn’t vacation fun? Crabby old me wants to wake up with PROTEIN- so I get a cold, hard-boiled egg. At least there’s that, though. Some places don’t even have that.
The ferry ride to the island was an adventure. Madelyn, always cautious, wanted to understand how all these heavy cars could possibly stay afloat. Gabriella was fascinated by the nesting birds at the dock- swooping down into the water to bring seaweed and small fish to their babies in the nests. We all wondered how the baby birds would be affected by nesting over water. (If their first flying lessons go awry, do they swim back to the pole and – then what?) We also wondered if Octopus Giganticus ate birds. We all got to play titanic, closing our eyes against the wind at the front of the boat, like flying.
Landing in Friday harbor was fun, it’s absolutely adorable. It’s so clean, there’s a fine of over $1000 for littering, which includes cigarette butts. The weather was perfect, and I mean P to the E to the R – you know what I mean, sunny but not too hot, slight breeze of fresh, clean ocean air with occasional whiffs of lavendar from the lavender farm store, absolutely beautiful.
Funny thing- we took a little stroll downtown, husband was hungry. They have a bunch of little shops and art galleries. We just kept walking past them. I was getting annoyed, so I said “Honey. maybe it’s a girl thing, but every time we walk past a store or gallery, we want to go inside. Some look less interesting than others, and we don’t have a schedule, but we can’t just keep walking past everything.” WHEW- he got it, and we all scattered into three different groups, to see the most recent place-that-was-calling-us-in. We LOVED the lavender store, but chose not to visit the farm. The homemade ice cream- well, after owning a gelato shop for several years, can I say I was totally NOT impressed with the homemade ice cream, but the man who owned the place was very nice. The art gallery was lovely- I’m not sure which one we went into, but my older girls learned of a shwimaanakku (spelling murder, sorry) legend, that they had to write down to look up, it involves a stone monument that they liked. We also saw a few souvenir shops, My oldest daughter spent her allowance on the coolest heart key chain thing, with beads- it’s called a “forever heart” I think and you can put different beads in it. I tried to convince her to get the “I love my mom” bead, but she insisted she’d rather have something red.
We got into the car and drove to the other side of the island for lunch. OMG- no mini marts, no corner stores, no nothing. It’s pristine and absolutely amazing, we were in heaven. We stopped our car in the middle of the forest to look at a very young deer, who just looked back at us while he chewed. I snapped a picture, but he’s kind of hard to see. The whole island is a preserve, no hunting. The deer wasn’t the slightest bit afraid of us.
On the other side of the island, in Roche Harbor, we ate lunch at the marina, tasting life on the “other side” of financial freedom. One day, when I grow up, I wanna sail the world in my Yacht. If you promise not to steal the name, I’ll tell you. It’s called “Nauta Yittle” And it’s bad ass, too. I’m sure I’ll post pictures when I buy it.
Unschooling at Roche Harbor
The kids were eager to show us the marine life that had built its home under the dock. Funny- I brought all these books about exploring tidepools, field guides to insects, trees, birds and wildlife. I tried getting the kids interested in the books on the way there “Here- check out all the cool stuff we’re going to see” and not a single one of them took a bite. After we laid on the dock watching these things, they had to look up the names, and make sure I was right about anenomes (whew- I read the books, OK) I don’t think we figured out the name of the “palm tree worms” yet.
Anyways, I have to get dressed & ready now for today’s adventure- Port Townsend. Here’s a picture of the 5 oldest girls, Gabriella just HAD to go down to the water’s edge “Mom- I NEED to turn rocks over and touch things.” Who can say no to that? When she emerged from underneath, a family, just stepping off of their yacht, was quite surprised to see this heathen child, filthy from some muck. We groaned “OMG Bubba- look at you” She was thrilled with whatever treasure she had in her hands (a giant clam, I think- alive) and the 20something young man in the crowd thought she was just the coolest kid ever, she loved it. We rinsed her feet off with the hose at a pristine little garden, Gabriella was proud when I asked for the hose. “We have a future scientist here, researching…. muck. Can I please use your hose?”
Future scientist explores roche harbor hands on
Anyways, I gotta go, I will have to write more in the car, it was an amazing day. Our family needed this, thank heaven for digital photography. I think the picture that captures the feeling of bliss the best may just be the one one I put first here- of seeing my kids & my husband lying on the dock, getting an up-close look at the sea life. Hmmm- later I’ll add the lighthouse pictures. What a perfect day.
Yeah- this is my house the day we get three ginormous packages from Rainbow Resource Center. Regardless of which homeschooling method we’re in the mood to identify with, stalking every UPS man in the neighborhood is a lot like listening for sleigh bells. I was in the middle of making pancakes when Gabriella started shouting “THE UPS MAN IS HERE” and the whole house went into chaos mode. Of course, the dog gets out and he’s freaking out because there’s a big brown muscular, strong man who always beings me just what I want delivery truck in the driveway.
Anyways- the boxes are in the kitchen, things are being opened and the kids are shouting “A Leonardo DaVinci kit, woohoo” and “I’ve always wanted this book, hooray” and “A bridge-making kit- yippee” and it was all very exciting. Ironically, the first thing that each of them wanted most of all was a sketch pad.
Yep- a spiral bound book filled with blank paper. WTF? Like we don’t always have blank paper in the house? What about building bridges, reading books, doing art projects and Leonardo Da Vinci stuff? All you want is the sketch pads?
first grade math
OK- whatever. My Madelyn was a sweetie, she became interested in the math book almost a full ten minutes later. She sat down and got through 1/4 of first grade math in a matter of 2 hours.
The other girls are now reading their high-quality literature and checking out the educational video games and building some Leonardo Davinci stuff. But still, the sketch pads are never out of reach. And I totally get it, but it’s ironic, isn’t it.
OK- Here’s a secret. I don’t get to hang out with many women in real life, but there are some local blogging moms that I totally blog-stalk because they are full of amazing, genius ideas, they do fun things, they inspire me, they make my world a better place.
de-stemming the lilacs for Lilac jelly
So since two of them blogged about making food out of flowers, I had to do it, too. Jennifer was boasting about the jelly they made from the harvest of their personal organic dandelion garden (I called them weeds) and Mama-Aya made muffins from lilacs. I mean, if there’s a scent in the world to preserve, lilacs would be IT. Their blooms are so fragrant and then they’re GONE.
So here’s what we did.
I liberated a BUNCH of lilacs from the bees and brought them in the house. then, I inspected them, using my eyes and my ears to make sure there were no bees in them. Then, I shut all the windows in the house, because the girls thought maybe bees would come inside if they smelled the flowers. Then, Madelyn and Gabriella removed all the flowers while I readied the kitchen.
We made about 3 quarts of Lilac syrup that I turned into Lilac gelatin squares, Lilac jelly, Lilac syrup for pancakes and I’ve reserved some to try the lilac muffins.
I poured 4 quarts of boiling water over 4 quarts of rinsed lilac flowers (no green parts.) it promptly turned brown, wilty and ugly (as shown)
I strained the liquid with a coffee filter and was surprised to see how dark it was, it looked like… coffee.
I boiled 2 quarts of it with 5 cups of sugar and 1 packet of sure-jell (magic jelly making stuff) The minute I added the sure-jell it turned a beautiful shade of pink. Then I followed the directions all except for the complicated canning stuff so that in the end instead of jelly I really just have super thick syruppy juice that I’ll use for other things, like Lilac Soda Pop (mix w/carbonated water like an italian soda)
making lilac jelly
I used 1 quart of the liquid with gelatin and sugar to make jigglers. Because the sure-jell made it so pretty, I added fruit color preserving stuff for the jello, so it could be pink, too.
Since the jelly got screwed up, I’m turning it into pancake syrup.
The rest of the reserved liquid will go into a muffin recipe, but not the one my friend used because that had flower chunks in it and no liquid, so i need to find a muffin recipe that will take the liquid, because I promised my kids muffins. Probably the tightwad gazette muffin formula I would have posted it here, but I’m sure that copying from a book isn’t copyright-kosher:) (but linking to it is, right?)
So far, we haven’t been bothered by bees in the house.
Emilee and Meagan take ten thousand pictures of themselves and of each other all the time, but I thought I’d share these because they’re particularly fantastic. Somehow- the stormy weather, the outfit and makeup, with the black-and-white seemed to make each of these shots just beautiful. Meagan is modeling and Emilee is the photographer, I think they made a great team. My mom took a few to work and someone said “This one looks like the cover for a movie I’d want to see” which I thought was a cute compliment. I’d wanna see the movie, too:) I hope you enjoy the pictures.
It might look like they’re playing dice, but they’re really just gathering candy from the pinata. We had to do it inside because it was windy. I’ve never seen a pinata that tolerated each child having three turns “up at bat;” it was very strong, and my kids have eaten nothing but candy for the past 12 hours.
Believe it or not, we had two Maddies, two Cinderellas and Two and a half Graces, spread between five little girls. My house didn’t tip over and the skunk underneath the house didn’t make an appearance. Actually, we haven’t smelled him in a few weeks and I’m afraid my husband’s night time gas has actually made the skunk find a new home.
Next order of business in the Russell house is doing our taxes. Yes, we’re last-minute tax filers. Even though I have obsessive spreadsheets that track almost every penny going in and out of the house; we’re April filers.
Here’s a funny fact; My husband’s parents would say they were “doing the taxes” whenever they were in their room making out. I think my kids know too much about taxes to fall for that, though. I’m sure my 12 year old would be able to figure out that if we don’t have to do quarterly payroll taxes anymore, and we don’t have to figure unemployment taxes, then why the heck do you need to do taxes three nights a week in a room without any table? I guess my kids know too much about taxes.
Sisters competing to see which party-planner will make the cut. I guess in my mind it sounds like a reality show. I guess everything does, though. Strange for someone who doesn’t watch a lot of TV. I guess I can just relate way too much to the “life; edited” concept. Because my life this week has really been edited a lot. See, and you never would have known (except I haven’t been blogging- for me, that’s edited)
Anyways- so Madelyn turns six today. It’s a big day here. We’re having company here at Amityville for the first time EVER- yeah. We’ve got two different kinds of finger sandwiches going and some homemade chocolate covered buttercream eggs.
Two sisters made homemade birthday party invitations for the party (Gabriella won)
Two sisters designed pinatas (Meagan won because Gabriella didn’t know how to make a Pinata, but she watched Meagan and now she knows)
FOUR sisters worked their little buns off removing some crap the homeowners had left in the yard that I declared “No one will ever be allowed to have guests until that pile of crap is cleaned up”
FIVE sisters cut and looped together a bazillionty pieces of construction paper for streamers that now cover my living room like a canopy
Two sisters designed and painted a sandwich-board sign to go out on the curb because our house is kind of hard to find
Two sisters fought about what kind of cake to bake from scratch. The winner was the one who decided we’d get a boxed mix (that might have been me)
So it’s a princess birthday party and all the kids have to come in their princess dresses. We have little gift-bags for the guests. I couldn’t get special plates or napkins and the 3 little girls she invited happen to be daughters of some of my favorite ladies on the planet.
The fighting I’ve heard this week has been hilarious “If you don’t help me clean the bedroom then you are fired” and “You can’t fire me from party planning or I will rip up the dragon I made” (There’s a reason I didn’t mention the fire-breathing dragon, he’s a casualty of the royal army)
All-in-all, the teamwork and combined effort to create a complicated party has probably fueled Madelyn’s inner-diva but it’s been really cute to watch.
They have games planned- a teddy-bear walk (which is like a cake walk, but with stuffed animals because I can’t bake cupcakes in my toaster oven)
They made the pinata and decorated it on their own
The decorations, party hats, party bags and invitations were all construction paper- this party has taken DAYS to plan. And they didn’t ask for much help, I’m really impressed. So I don’t know how it will turn out, but I was hired to be a photographer. I hope I do a good job, I hear the boss is a real meanie. Or maybe it was doody-head. Either way, I better go. I have batteries to charge.
And before I go, I just wanna direct you to another Maddy, Madeline Spohr, who passed away yesterday at the age of 17mos. She was due to be born about a month after Evelyn, but ended up being born about a month BEFORE Evelyn. The family is taking donations for her burial, and giving the rest to March of Dimes. They help preemies.
I think it’s awesome how kids create their own reality. Our dumpy little house has a huge doughboy pool with no liner- so it’s basically a ladder up to an empty old pool, with no water in it, just a sandy bottom.
They’ve set up an entire land of their own. So far there’s fairyland and the beach. In the beach, they have lawn chairs (sand dug into pits where their bums fit snugly), beach towels laid out (panels of curtains from their room at the old house), drinks with plastic lemon wedges on the side, silly straws and a few umbrellas propped up in the sand. Next to one of the umbrellas, there’s a little red cooler.
They’ve taken workbooks and coloring stuff out to the beach. The books are in the cooler to protect them from the incoming tide. They ate their lunch at their beach and now they’re asking me whether or not you’re allowed to camp at the beach.
I visited their beach today and, for early spring, it’s surprisingly warm. The sides of the pool, about 4 feet deep, shied it all so that there’s no wind at all. They’ve taken several packets of seeds and dug little furrows into the ground near the fairy land so that flowers will grow. Fairies like flowers.
There’s actually three distinctive areas in their land, one has yet to be developed. They haven’t decided whether they’ll be building a clubhouse or a firepit. I’m voting for the clubhouse.
In the meantime, while lounging in their swimsuits, they’ve managed to
read seven Magic Schoolbus books in one day. Gabriella has been doing most of the reading, but when she gets to a word that’s “easy” she presents the book to Madelyn. Mrs Frizzle is shrinking the kids down into water droplets and they’re sliding down leaves as part of the water cycle. Madelyn says, “Mom, school looks like fun.” I tell her to write Mrs Frizzle a letter and invite her to our beach. She might like it.
Sisters competing to see which party-planner will make the cut. I guess in my mind it sounds like a reality show. I guess everything does, though. Strange for someone who doesn’t watch a lot of TV. I guess I can just relate way too much to the “life; edited” concept. Because my life this week has really been edited a lot. See, and you never would have known (except I haven’t been blogging- for me, that’s edited)
I think it’s awesome how kids create their own reality. Our dumpy little house has a huge doughboy pool with no liner- so it’s basically a ladder up to an empty old pool, with no water in it, just a sandy bottom. 
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