This month's Unschooling Carnival is on the topic of Celebrating Life's Events. I've really wanted to come up with something for this one, if only because I feel like I'm neglecting my writing, which feels somewhat like neglecting my soul.
In the Carnival announcement, the following questions were suggested as prompts:
How has celebrating changed in your house?
How do you celebrate, and why?
How do I make Christmas (insert holiday) special without the deprivation before hand?
What about relatives?
Celebrating Birth days and other anniversaries
Adding or stopping certain holidays
Feeling abundant in a daily celebration of life
How do YOU celebrate?
I'd been hoping for an *easy* blog carnival -- you know, one where I could dash off a quick post full of sparkling stories and flowing words. Okay, so this isn't the easy, free-flowing topic I'd have ordered, but it just amazing how life weaves together just the right responses and questions for me. I won't be answering all those questions, but the overall idea of celebration caught my attention.
I've been exploring the idea of rituals and traditions myself lately. Not so much in an unschooling context, but in a personal context. And just as I'm wondering how to answer those yearnings of my soul for more recognition and celebration of the wonders and joys in my life, Andy comes to me with the same yearning. Now I find myself learning about Winter Solstice traditions which, I'm sure, will lead us to explore other rituals and traditions in that same swirly way all our conversations around here lead into each other. We discussed why we've continued to observe some Christmas rituals, even tho I walked away from Christianity 8+ years ago, after a heartfelt practice of 17 years as a true believer. Andy has never considered himself to be a Christian, and leans much more towards Buddhist concepts.
We, as a family, don't embrace or practice any one religion. Even when I had a religious practice, it wasn't one that had any overt rituals -- many discreet, personal ones, but not really any big celebrations. At first, it was enough just to separate ourselves from the trappings of that religion. In the years since, tho, I've wondered if we're all missing something, by not keeping to many -- if any -- of the cultural traditions we both grew up with. We've never made a big fuss about Santa or the Easter Bunny, or even the Tooth Fairy. I'm sure my mom-in-law thinks I'm somewhat remiss in those areas.
As I've thought about it more recently, I realize we do have rituals and touchstones. They are rituals of our own making, observances small and large that speak to who we are.
There are the daily rituals --
Each night as we go to bed, Andy, Gary and I repeat the same script in response to each other. It's one that evolved a couple of years ago, at a time when Andy needed some comforting routines. I find that it's as comforting to us as it is to Andy. And someday when he's outgrown it and left home, it will be one of the sweetest memories we have.
Until recently, Gary read Garfield comics one or both boys at bedtime. Only now that they often stay up later than the old folks has that become rare. Still on occasion, as we head into winter with more indoors time, Dan has requested evening reading time with Dad.
I have my morning cup of tea, and my nightly time updating the boys' journal and my own.
Gary and I have always shared a kiss as he leaves for work, and again once we're home for the evening. Our day just doesn't seem complete without those kisses.
We have birthday parties for the boys, of course, and Gary and I always remember our anniversaries.
I'm pleased that this season brought this topic to my thought, and I look forward to exploring more traditions and celebrations, and to trying new ones both privately and as a family. I don't know if or which other celebrations or rituals we'll add in years to come. I'm sure that, as with the ones we have today, they'll be celebrations of the moments, small and large, that are most precious to us rather than simply because it's what we're supposed to do.
Wednesday, November 17, 2010
Tuesday, August 17, 2010
Is it radical unschooling. . .
or just the only way of living with my family that's true to who I am?
Lately, I have find myself answering questions people seem to think unique to unschooling as a lifestyle (radical unschooling -- tho that's a designation I seldom use). One friend said, "for people who are all about not having rules, there sure are a lot of rules about what an unschooler is." Another has asked questions that feel to me like, he's sure I really am a reasonable person, and he must have just misunderstood me -- surely we must fundamentally agree, if only he were asking the right questions in the right way.
The more often these conversations come up, the more difficult it is for me to put into words how I feel about unschooling and why I live as I do. No answer I've yet been able to come up with is complete and I'm just not articulate enough -- or maybe not comfortable enough with the line of questioning to be articulate - to get the words in my head and heart out in ways that others won't misunderstand and, as a result attack, as illogical. Or maybe each of us -- myself included -- is so sure we're right (and maybe we are for our own, individual truth) that no one can truly see another's perspective. What I do know is that it leaves me feeling misunderstood, and the conversations feel circular and pointless. I suspect this is one of those areas in which Gary's wisdom surpasses mine with his simple, "everyone's mileage will vary".
I don't need any of the people I've talked with lately to agree with me or understand me. They seem intent on trying to, tho. It's beginning to feel very much like when I was a child and the adults regularly told me variants of "you know that's not really how you feel". Adults who were wrong, and really wanted me to feel something I didn't feel. It feels like the times when people I've disagreed with worked very diligently to get me to trip over my own arguments and show that they really were right about me, and how misguided I was. All in all, not good feelings.
This morning, while reviewing yesterday (which was an angst-filled, somewhat sad and difficult day for me) I realized part of the problem. Here's what hit me just moments ago -- it's not about the unschooilng! I know I've said that before, but this time it spoke to me in a different way.
With all these conversations, I've let it become about whether or not my choices as a parent, as a partner, as a person, are part and parcel of being an unschooler. I've let others frame the conversation as a validation (or not) of unschooling, as if the ONLY reason I do things the way I do is because I'm an unschooler. That I live this way because the *rules of unschooling* require it of me. Further, it seems to have somehow become about whether or not choosing to unschool, makes one a superior parent, partner or person. In my experience, claims of superiority in any situation are entirely subjective.
The way I live, the path I choose each moment, is the only one I can really attest to. My path doesn't define unschooling for me, nor should it for anyone else. As far as I'm concerned, it's not about unschooilng; it's about living. It is about living the only way I know how, the only way that brings me any measure of peace. In large part, it's how I lived long before I found unschooling. It is the only way I know to share love and to delight in being loved. My choice to follow my child's lead, to honor his feelings, to respect his choices, to embrace and celebrate who he is (all three of my children) is something I have always tried to, always been called back to, even when the other voices around me told me how mistaken I was. I choose to live the way I do because it is simply the only way I know to love, making it the only way I know to live. My choices about how to live those I love are the very definition of love in my life. To explain it only in the context of unschooling philosophy ignores that the way I parent, partner and live is simply who I am, making it much more than just whether or not our children go to school.
And as such, I'm not really comfortable defending and explaining myself to others just now, certainly not if it's only going to be a debate about what is wrong or right about unschooilng.
So here is my answer to friends who've recently asked and debated with me about what is or isn't unschooling. It's not that we live this way because we unschool; we unschool because it fits the way we live. It's simply the only way I know how to live with the people I love.
Lately, I have find myself answering questions people seem to think unique to unschooling as a lifestyle (radical unschooling -- tho that's a designation I seldom use). One friend said, "for people who are all about not having rules, there sure are a lot of rules about what an unschooler is." Another has asked questions that feel to me like, he's sure I really am a reasonable person, and he must have just misunderstood me -- surely we must fundamentally agree, if only he were asking the right questions in the right way.
The more often these conversations come up, the more difficult it is for me to put into words how I feel about unschooling and why I live as I do. No answer I've yet been able to come up with is complete and I'm just not articulate enough -- or maybe not comfortable enough with the line of questioning to be articulate - to get the words in my head and heart out in ways that others won't misunderstand and, as a result attack, as illogical. Or maybe each of us -- myself included -- is so sure we're right (and maybe we are for our own, individual truth) that no one can truly see another's perspective. What I do know is that it leaves me feeling misunderstood, and the conversations feel circular and pointless. I suspect this is one of those areas in which Gary's wisdom surpasses mine with his simple, "everyone's mileage will vary".
I don't need any of the people I've talked with lately to agree with me or understand me. They seem intent on trying to, tho. It's beginning to feel very much like when I was a child and the adults regularly told me variants of "you know that's not really how you feel". Adults who were wrong, and really wanted me to feel something I didn't feel. It feels like the times when people I've disagreed with worked very diligently to get me to trip over my own arguments and show that they really were right about me, and how misguided I was. All in all, not good feelings.
This morning, while reviewing yesterday (which was an angst-filled, somewhat sad and difficult day for me) I realized part of the problem. Here's what hit me just moments ago -- it's not about the unschooilng! I know I've said that before, but this time it spoke to me in a different way.
With all these conversations, I've let it become about whether or not my choices as a parent, as a partner, as a person, are part and parcel of being an unschooler. I've let others frame the conversation as a validation (or not) of unschooling, as if the ONLY reason I do things the way I do is because I'm an unschooler. That I live this way because the *rules of unschooling* require it of me. Further, it seems to have somehow become about whether or not choosing to unschool, makes one a superior parent, partner or person. In my experience, claims of superiority in any situation are entirely subjective.
The way I live, the path I choose each moment, is the only one I can really attest to. My path doesn't define unschooling for me, nor should it for anyone else. As far as I'm concerned, it's not about unschooilng; it's about living. It is about living the only way I know how, the only way that brings me any measure of peace. In large part, it's how I lived long before I found unschooling. It is the only way I know to share love and to delight in being loved. My choice to follow my child's lead, to honor his feelings, to respect his choices, to embrace and celebrate who he is (all three of my children) is something I have always tried to, always been called back to, even when the other voices around me told me how mistaken I was. I choose to live the way I do because it is simply the only way I know to love, making it the only way I know to live. My choices about how to live those I love are the very definition of love in my life. To explain it only in the context of unschooling philosophy ignores that the way I parent, partner and live is simply who I am, making it much more than just whether or not our children go to school.
And as such, I'm not really comfortable defending and explaining myself to others just now, certainly not if it's only going to be a debate about what is wrong or right about unschooilng.
So here is my answer to friends who've recently asked and debated with me about what is or isn't unschooling. It's not that we live this way because we unschool; we unschool because it fits the way we live. It's simply the only way I know how to live with the people I love.
Wednesday, August 4, 2010
just how radical?
The question came up recently - just how radical does one need to be to identify as an unschooler. Well, we're pretty radical here at our house.
I was hanging out with three friends who belong to our local unschoolers' group, two of whom do not identify as radical unschoolers (the third friend sat quietly, listening to our conversation). The first friend, who is really an eclectic homeschooler not an unschooler, told of his experiences at an unschooling conference last Fall, sharing that his advice about organized sports upset some of the more radical unschoolers at the conference.
As we talked, the second friend, who unschools as an academic choice, but not a lifestyle (she feels as a single parent she really can't let go of bedtimes, etc) asked how radical those parents from the conference are. The reply was, "more radical than Sylvia." At which point both I and the second friend (who has known me for several years now) explained that I'm pretty radical, and in answer to the other friend's question, yes, my kids stay up as late as they want. They also choose what they eat and when, the clothes they wear, their friends, their schedule, their activities (or lack thereof), whether or not to play a sport, what tv shows they watch, and so on. Apparently, before that clarification the friend in question thought I was a reasonably traditional parent. I thought he knew me better than that!
Both of these friends expressed that radical unschoolers come off like we're telling parents -- newcomers to unschoolers, those curious, and those who don't choose such a radical lifestyle -- that there's only one right way to unschool or even parent. I replied that really, I think most of us feel our way -- whatever it is -- is the most right way. That's the mark of a true believer.
Does that mean it's impossible to mix unschooling and a more mainstream lifestyle? Probably not. What it does mean is that when you try to do anything less than radical unschooling -- holding on to arbitrary rules, or teaching *just English & Math* or requiring bedtimes, limiting choices your children make because you (the parent) *have to* get time alone, sleep, or feel that children don't know what they *really want* or what's *good for them* -- and it doesn't work out as well as you'd hoped, don't blame it on the unschooling. Just maybe, it's the result of limiting, controlling, and generally not trusting your children, or because your choices -- usually made to fit within your comfort level, not your child's -- have upfront eliminated the many possibilities for harmonious life.
I was hanging out with three friends who belong to our local unschoolers' group, two of whom do not identify as radical unschoolers (the third friend sat quietly, listening to our conversation). The first friend, who is really an eclectic homeschooler not an unschooler, told of his experiences at an unschooling conference last Fall, sharing that his advice about organized sports upset some of the more radical unschoolers at the conference.
As we talked, the second friend, who unschools as an academic choice, but not a lifestyle (she feels as a single parent she really can't let go of bedtimes, etc) asked how radical those parents from the conference are. The reply was, "more radical than Sylvia." At which point both I and the second friend (who has known me for several years now) explained that I'm pretty radical, and in answer to the other friend's question, yes, my kids stay up as late as they want. They also choose what they eat and when, the clothes they wear, their friends, their schedule, their activities (or lack thereof), whether or not to play a sport, what tv shows they watch, and so on. Apparently, before that clarification the friend in question thought I was a reasonably traditional parent. I thought he knew me better than that!
Both of these friends expressed that radical unschoolers come off like we're telling parents -- newcomers to unschoolers, those curious, and those who don't choose such a radical lifestyle -- that there's only one right way to unschool or even parent. I replied that really, I think most of us feel our way -- whatever it is -- is the most right way. That's the mark of a true believer.
Does that mean it's impossible to mix unschooling and a more mainstream lifestyle? Probably not. What it does mean is that when you try to do anything less than radical unschooling -- holding on to arbitrary rules, or teaching *just English & Math* or requiring bedtimes, limiting choices your children make because you (the parent) *have to* get time alone, sleep, or feel that children don't know what they *really want* or what's *good for them* -- and it doesn't work out as well as you'd hoped, don't blame it on the unschooling. Just maybe, it's the result of limiting, controlling, and generally not trusting your children, or because your choices -- usually made to fit within your comfort level, not your child's -- have upfront eliminated the many possibilities for harmonious life.
Monday, July 26, 2010
I'm that Mom
Inspired by Ronnie, Jenna, Frank and several others, here's my impromptu blog carnival entry.
I'm that Mom who carries an amazing amount of kids' stuff in my shoulder bag or my pocket. PSP, cell phones, watches, half-eaten bags of chips or popcorn, coins, bottle caps, rocks and other special treasures.
I'm the Mom who carries all those things for my kids, because I know how easy it is for me -- at 47yo -- forget where I've put my stuff. Because I will never say to my child "sorry, you lost it, now it's gone and I won't replace it." Because it's no big deal for me to take from my child what he asks me to hold, and put it in my bag so it won't get wet, or stolen, or stepped on, or broken.
I'm also that Mom who does this so automatically I often forget what I have, or even that something was given to me, so I'm often heard to say, "I don't know where that is. But if you gave it to me, it's in here somewhere."
I'm also that Mom who always has a band-aid, no matter where we go. Other kids in our tribe know this and bypass their own Mom to come ask me for a band-aid.
I'm that Mom who carries an amazing amount of kids' stuff in my shoulder bag or my pocket. PSP, cell phones, watches, half-eaten bags of chips or popcorn, coins, bottle caps, rocks and other special treasures.
I'm the Mom who carries all those things for my kids, because I know how easy it is for me -- at 47yo -- forget where I've put my stuff. Because I will never say to my child "sorry, you lost it, now it's gone and I won't replace it." Because it's no big deal for me to take from my child what he asks me to hold, and put it in my bag so it won't get wet, or stolen, or stepped on, or broken.
I'm also that Mom who does this so automatically I often forget what I have, or even that something was given to me, so I'm often heard to say, "I don't know where that is. But if you gave it to me, it's in here somewhere."
I'm also that Mom who always has a band-aid, no matter where we go. Other kids in our tribe know this and bypass their own Mom to come ask me for a band-aid.
Friday, July 2, 2010
unschooling myself -- body, mind and soul
Some time ago, Ronnie Maier posted a blog titled body love, body unschooling and more recently Tara Wagner blogged in the same vein, on the topic of body compassion. Since reading Ronnie's post, I've given a lot of thought to how to go about unschooling myself as radically as our kids unschool - body, mind and soul - because for me those three are too connected for me to unschool only my body. The epiphanies coming to me as I explore this idea are too many for one blog post, so there may be several. I wanted to post some today, tho.
If I truly unschool myself, body mind and soul, what will it look like? I will .....
delight in my interests, preferences and choices, just as I do for my kids,
give myself permission to change how I express myself, what I do, what I love,
explore who I really am, since it's clear to me that somehow along the way I lost, or hid, a lot of who I am,
stop demanding that I multi-task to *get more done*,
be patient with myself,
appreciate my body for all it has done and continues to do for me,
forgive my body its imperfections,
embrace and love my quirks just as I love my kids in all their quirkiness,
allow myself to feel what I feel in each moment,
allow myself time to rejoice or grieve or learn or explore my fears or try new things,
forgive myself for the moments when I feel like I've not done the best I wanted to do,
play more,
laugh more,
not rush to judgment,
If I truly unschool myself, body mind and soul, what will it look like? I will .....
delight in my interests, preferences and choices, just as I do for my kids,
give myself permission to change how I express myself, what I do, what I love,
explore who I really am, since it's clear to me that somehow along the way I lost, or hid, a lot of who I am,
stop demanding that I multi-task to *get more done*,
be patient with myself,
appreciate my body for all it has done and continues to do for me,
forgive my body its imperfections,
embrace and love my quirks just as I love my kids in all their quirkiness,
allow myself to feel what I feel in each moment,
allow myself time to rejoice or grieve or learn or explore my fears or try new things,
forgive myself for the moments when I feel like I've not done the best I wanted to do,
play more,
laugh more,
not rush to judgment,
Friday, June 25, 2010
My Own Magic Wand
The other day, I posted a status update on Facebook, about feeling overwhelmed that our kids desires always seem to outpace our income. I received plenty of sympathetic replies, but one in particular made me think.
Ginger Sabo said, "I feel this, too. Hugs. I'm still looking for the magic wand. I thought for sure I'd find it when I started packing everything."
I'm beginning to see we do have a magic wand of sorts -- time with our kids, really BEing with them. Dan's been needy lately, wanting to know where I am at all times, how long I'll be gone if I go out. Once I am out, he's calling pretty frequently, or he sends texts that simply read "Mom".
This has been a hectic season for me. I'll admit that first, I felt put upon, and found myself thinking "what does he want NOW?" I'm so grateful I didn't say that, tho. Instead, I reminded myself that when a child who is otherwise very capable of being away from Mom seems to need more, it means just that he needs more. He doesn't need to be told how big he is, or that he should be able to do it for himself. When a child, no matter how old he is (even not a child anymore) says he needs his Mama, he needs his Mama.
So, I've smiled and asked what I can do for him. I've stopped what I was doing to snuggle with him, because really is anything more important than my child's need for a hug and a smile? "Yes, I'll be happy to get your a glass of iced tea! Would you like something to go with that?" And five minutes later when he decides he would now like something to go with that, I take care of it and smile at him again. I've been at this thing for a while now, and I know that what works for our family is to give them what they need. And how cool is it that when he has a need, Dan trusts he can bring it to me and I'll help him out?
Yesterday, he was my almost constant companion. We stopped by the Nature Center to sign him up for a class this evening. Looking at the schedule he saw several classes he'd like to try out. This is a first for Dan, who has really blossomed this year. We stopped at the co-op market and chose some vegetables and fruits for the new (to us) juicer. Dan chose limes to make limeade when we get home.
We drove to Los Lunas (about 30 miles away) to pick up a juicer someone is loaning me. We talked and sang together on the drive there. Dan spotted the building that burned down last week, and we talked about a fire we'd seen on the news the night before (it's fire season here). I pointed out which mountains we could see from there, and that we could still see our mountain, but it was farther away than I like. We had a nice time with my friend, trying the juicer, got some pecans and began our drive home.
Dan was hungry, so we hit the McDonald's for a cheeseburger with pickle. Three blocks later he was still hungry, so we hit Wendy's for another cheeseburger, and this time I specified pickles, since the first one had only one pickle. He ate both in short order, and was a very happy boy, talking about which was better and marveling that both came on warm buns, which he says never happens at other fast food places.
We arrived home to a beautifully clean kitchen and dining room! Will does this for me every so often, when I'm too busy to keep up with the general clutter. This is the same young man who as a young child and teenager didn't clean the kitchen. Now, as an adult, he's amazingly sweet and helpful. More gracious and generous than I was with him at times, because when he was young, I was single Mom, working full-time, and often impatient, without the tools -- the magic wand -- I have today. More proof that I am indeed loved!
Once we got home, I made juice -- six times, in different combination for Andy & Dan, washing the juicer and all its parts each time. We all enjoyed the excitement of a new gadget, exploring all it will do.
I remembered I had forgotten one errand in town. Dan again wanted to come along. When we got to our stop, there had been an accident. Fire trucks and emergency responders in the intersection. A wrecked SUV on its side against a building. Dan was fascinated. We parked in the empty parking lot nearby and watched for a while, talking about how the accident might have happened. How did the SUV get over on its side? Talked about centers of gravity, momentum, how tippy taller vehicles can be. We hoped no one was hurt badly.
Driving a few blocks later, we saw a huge old cottonwood tree that had been felled - twisted and thrown across the side street -- by the wind the previous night. Dan commented how lucky the tree hadn't fallen on any cars, or the busier street we were driving down. We talked about so many things on our way home. Dan's always been such a quiet boy, but now he has so much to say, to share. I love being invited to hear what's going on in his thoughts.
Once we were back home, Dan described the accident scene to Gary, who talked more about how the SUV could have gotten on its side. I made juice, and washed the juicer parts; made more juice, and washed it again (six times in all!). Dan just hung out and talked with us, about his plans for today, what we'd seen, whether or not he wanted to wait for a 3DS or buy a DSi when we can, and we assured him we'll keep his request in mind as we look at expenses over the coming weeks.
Sure, Dan still wants a DSi, and we're still brainstorming ways to get it. But when I stopped for a moment to really look at Dan, really feel who he is, his need for connection, that was, IS, my magic wand.
Thanks, Ginger for helping me put the feelings swirling around in my head and heart into words!
Ginger Sabo said, "I feel this, too. Hugs. I'm still looking for the magic wand. I thought for sure I'd find it when I started packing everything."
I'm beginning to see we do have a magic wand of sorts -- time with our kids, really BEing with them. Dan's been needy lately, wanting to know where I am at all times, how long I'll be gone if I go out. Once I am out, he's calling pretty frequently, or he sends texts that simply read "Mom".
This has been a hectic season for me. I'll admit that first, I felt put upon, and found myself thinking "what does he want NOW?" I'm so grateful I didn't say that, tho. Instead, I reminded myself that when a child who is otherwise very capable of being away from Mom seems to need more, it means just that he needs more. He doesn't need to be told how big he is, or that he should be able to do it for himself. When a child, no matter how old he is (even not a child anymore) says he needs his Mama, he needs his Mama.
So, I've smiled and asked what I can do for him. I've stopped what I was doing to snuggle with him, because really is anything more important than my child's need for a hug and a smile? "Yes, I'll be happy to get your a glass of iced tea! Would you like something to go with that?" And five minutes later when he decides he would now like something to go with that, I take care of it and smile at him again. I've been at this thing for a while now, and I know that what works for our family is to give them what they need. And how cool is it that when he has a need, Dan trusts he can bring it to me and I'll help him out?
Yesterday, he was my almost constant companion. We stopped by the Nature Center to sign him up for a class this evening. Looking at the schedule he saw several classes he'd like to try out. This is a first for Dan, who has really blossomed this year. We stopped at the co-op market and chose some vegetables and fruits for the new (to us) juicer. Dan chose limes to make limeade when we get home.
We drove to Los Lunas (about 30 miles away) to pick up a juicer someone is loaning me. We talked and sang together on the drive there. Dan spotted the building that burned down last week, and we talked about a fire we'd seen on the news the night before (it's fire season here). I pointed out which mountains we could see from there, and that we could still see our mountain, but it was farther away than I like. We had a nice time with my friend, trying the juicer, got some pecans and began our drive home.
Dan was hungry, so we hit the McDonald's for a cheeseburger with pickle. Three blocks later he was still hungry, so we hit Wendy's for another cheeseburger, and this time I specified pickles, since the first one had only one pickle. He ate both in short order, and was a very happy boy, talking about which was better and marveling that both came on warm buns, which he says never happens at other fast food places.
We arrived home to a beautifully clean kitchen and dining room! Will does this for me every so often, when I'm too busy to keep up with the general clutter. This is the same young man who as a young child and teenager didn't clean the kitchen. Now, as an adult, he's amazingly sweet and helpful. More gracious and generous than I was with him at times, because when he was young, I was single Mom, working full-time, and often impatient, without the tools -- the magic wand -- I have today. More proof that I am indeed loved!
Once we got home, I made juice -- six times, in different combination for Andy & Dan, washing the juicer and all its parts each time. We all enjoyed the excitement of a new gadget, exploring all it will do.
I remembered I had forgotten one errand in town. Dan again wanted to come along. When we got to our stop, there had been an accident. Fire trucks and emergency responders in the intersection. A wrecked SUV on its side against a building. Dan was fascinated. We parked in the empty parking lot nearby and watched for a while, talking about how the accident might have happened. How did the SUV get over on its side? Talked about centers of gravity, momentum, how tippy taller vehicles can be. We hoped no one was hurt badly.
Driving a few blocks later, we saw a huge old cottonwood tree that had been felled - twisted and thrown across the side street -- by the wind the previous night. Dan commented how lucky the tree hadn't fallen on any cars, or the busier street we were driving down. We talked about so many things on our way home. Dan's always been such a quiet boy, but now he has so much to say, to share. I love being invited to hear what's going on in his thoughts.
Once we were back home, Dan described the accident scene to Gary, who talked more about how the SUV could have gotten on its side. I made juice, and washed the juicer parts; made more juice, and washed it again (six times in all!). Dan just hung out and talked with us, about his plans for today, what we'd seen, whether or not he wanted to wait for a 3DS or buy a DSi when we can, and we assured him we'll keep his request in mind as we look at expenses over the coming weeks.
Sure, Dan still wants a DSi, and we're still brainstorming ways to get it. But when I stopped for a moment to really look at Dan, really feel who he is, his need for connection, that was, IS, my magic wand.
Thanks, Ginger for helping me put the feelings swirling around in my head and heart into words!
Monday, May 17, 2010
The Value of Things
A couple of days ago, Andy shared with me a conversation he'd had with a friend of mine, a fellow unschooling Mom, tho not a radical unschooler. The conversation began with her advancing her belief that it's human nature to value what we earn more than we value what is given to us or falls into our laps. Her strongly held theory is that kids who are given 'everything' -- a too big allowance, their own car, expensive toys, etc -- won't value them as much as things they buy with money they earned; that making a child earn his money teaches them that we all have to work for what we want in life.
She and I had recently had a conversation -- okay a debate -- on the same topic. She was concerned that Andy talks in terms of how he'd spend lots of money if he won the lottery, for example. Her concern is that Andy (almost 14) doesn't appreciate that he will someday need to work for money to buy things, and that he needs to understand that and plan for a future. She shared her concerns, opening with "I know this is an unschooling thing, to let kids have whatever they want....." I told her that, in fact, Andy does know most people work for a living, and that he has plans for a job someday. But, really, isn't it much more fun to dream about what we'd do with several million dollars? Who among hasn't indulged in such a flight of fancy?
I didn't give the topic much more thought until Andy's comments to me and Gary a couple of days ago. In talking with him, I realized just how strongly I disagree with her notions, how injurious I think they can be to our children.
First, is it really true that everyone values things earned more than gifts? I know in my life, that's not true. Many times in my life, I have benefited from the generosity of others, and I am so grateful to be the recipient of such expressions of love. I've also been in the position of giving -- money, things, my time -- to others, simply because I wanted to make their life bigger and brighter, to help in a time of need, or just to say I love you.
I recognize that accepting a gift graciously -- and gratefully -- can be an equal expression of love back to the giver. When we are grateful, and aware of how loved we are, it's only natural to enjoy and take care of what we've received.
I told Andy I disagree with my friend. Gary chimed in agreeing with me, and we talked about our thoughts on experiences with gifts. We're very fortunate, in that Gary's parents have always been very generous with us. They've flown us to Hawaii for visits, helped us buy a used car a few years (a totally unexpected gift, at a wonderful time), provide college funds for Will to attend community college, even buying his books. Gary's Mom flew out to care for our family 9 years ago when I was on bed rest, while expecting Dan, spending two months over Christmas and New Year's away from her home and husband. In large part, they are able to be so generous because Gary is an only child. Really, tho, they are such generous people that if they had more children, they'd simply find a way to give even more. Happily for me, Gary is every bit as generous and thoughtful as his father. We've also watched our boys become very generous people.
I explained to Andy that it's a common belief in our culture that kids 'need to learn to earn what they want.' I went on to say that really, if we can give our children what they want, and choose to withhold something to 'teach them a lesson' the only sure thing we teach them is that we're not very generous people!
In my childhood, I often heard the same tired opinion -- that we value what we earn. I was also criticized for not being grateful enough, for not being as careful in taking care of gifts as my mother thought was appropriate. We weren't given an allowance, or even the opportunity to earn one. Chores were simply expected us as members of the family, and not rewarded in any way for completing them. Instead, she would give us money to go to the movies, etc, when we asked only if she felt we'd been 'good enough' to deserve it. What I learned from her method was to resent that I had to be 'good enough' to have my desires fulfilled. We all learned, to varying degrees, that we weren't 'good enough' to be entitled to money. It's a lesson I spent many years unlearning, sometimes very expensively.
Resentment is another lesson resulting from telling our kids they will only value what they earn. The reality is that, no matter how much money or how many things we have, we'll always see or know others who have more. Often, what others have appears to have come to them in ways that don't look like much work to us. It's easy to resent that others have more than we have, that their lives look easier and more bountiful. When I was young, and for some years into adulthood, I saw people whose lives looked more abundant than mine, people who had the things I lacked. Thanks to my mother and her practice of determining whether or not we'd been 'good enough' to share in her money, I took my own lack to mean I wasn't worthy of having my desires fulfilled, or even having my needs met. I don't want to repeat that lesson with my own children. They are so worthy -- we all are!
I don't give to my children conditionally, thinking I'll only continue giving if they take proper care of my gifts. I give to them as much as I can, simply because I love them, and I know what I'm giving will bring them joy -- and I want them to be joy-filled.
Another point, as I thought it on more deeply, both during our talk with Andy and later talking with Gary about it, is that parents who forward this opinion malpractice their children. We all know kids often do and become what we expect of them. It's the best argument for saying "walk!" instead of "don't run!" After all, if Mom felt a need to say "don't...." then she must believe the child was going to do what she just prohibited. By saying to children "we only care for what we earn" what we're really doing is giving them license to devalue gifts, both received and given. We're saying we expect them to be careless with the things we give them. We're telling them that the only way to receive any good in life is to earn it. Those aren't the lessons I hope to give my children.
I want my children to be both generous and grateful, to recognize and honor the inherent worth of everyone they know and love. To care for and enjoy what comes into their lives, whether they earned it or someone else gave it to them. To be cheerful givers and cheerful recipients. I want them to know that sometimes the best expression of love we can give someone is to let them help love, honor and celebrate us by accepting their gift.
She and I had recently had a conversation -- okay a debate -- on the same topic. She was concerned that Andy talks in terms of how he'd spend lots of money if he won the lottery, for example. Her concern is that Andy (almost 14) doesn't appreciate that he will someday need to work for money to buy things, and that he needs to understand that and plan for a future. She shared her concerns, opening with "I know this is an unschooling thing, to let kids have whatever they want....." I told her that, in fact, Andy does know most people work for a living, and that he has plans for a job someday. But, really, isn't it much more fun to dream about what we'd do with several million dollars? Who among hasn't indulged in such a flight of fancy?
I didn't give the topic much more thought until Andy's comments to me and Gary a couple of days ago. In talking with him, I realized just how strongly I disagree with her notions, how injurious I think they can be to our children.
First, is it really true that everyone values things earned more than gifts? I know in my life, that's not true. Many times in my life, I have benefited from the generosity of others, and I am so grateful to be the recipient of such expressions of love. I've also been in the position of giving -- money, things, my time -- to others, simply because I wanted to make their life bigger and brighter, to help in a time of need, or just to say I love you.
I recognize that accepting a gift graciously -- and gratefully -- can be an equal expression of love back to the giver. When we are grateful, and aware of how loved we are, it's only natural to enjoy and take care of what we've received.
I told Andy I disagree with my friend. Gary chimed in agreeing with me, and we talked about our thoughts on experiences with gifts. We're very fortunate, in that Gary's parents have always been very generous with us. They've flown us to Hawaii for visits, helped us buy a used car a few years (a totally unexpected gift, at a wonderful time), provide college funds for Will to attend community college, even buying his books. Gary's Mom flew out to care for our family 9 years ago when I was on bed rest, while expecting Dan, spending two months over Christmas and New Year's away from her home and husband. In large part, they are able to be so generous because Gary is an only child. Really, tho, they are such generous people that if they had more children, they'd simply find a way to give even more. Happily for me, Gary is every bit as generous and thoughtful as his father. We've also watched our boys become very generous people.
I explained to Andy that it's a common belief in our culture that kids 'need to learn to earn what they want.' I went on to say that really, if we can give our children what they want, and choose to withhold something to 'teach them a lesson' the only sure thing we teach them is that we're not very generous people!
In my childhood, I often heard the same tired opinion -- that we value what we earn. I was also criticized for not being grateful enough, for not being as careful in taking care of gifts as my mother thought was appropriate. We weren't given an allowance, or even the opportunity to earn one. Chores were simply expected us as members of the family, and not rewarded in any way for completing them. Instead, she would give us money to go to the movies, etc, when we asked only if she felt we'd been 'good enough' to deserve it. What I learned from her method was to resent that I had to be 'good enough' to have my desires fulfilled. We all learned, to varying degrees, that we weren't 'good enough' to be entitled to money. It's a lesson I spent many years unlearning, sometimes very expensively.
Resentment is another lesson resulting from telling our kids they will only value what they earn. The reality is that, no matter how much money or how many things we have, we'll always see or know others who have more. Often, what others have appears to have come to them in ways that don't look like much work to us. It's easy to resent that others have more than we have, that their lives look easier and more bountiful. When I was young, and for some years into adulthood, I saw people whose lives looked more abundant than mine, people who had the things I lacked. Thanks to my mother and her practice of determining whether or not we'd been 'good enough' to share in her money, I took my own lack to mean I wasn't worthy of having my desires fulfilled, or even having my needs met. I don't want to repeat that lesson with my own children. They are so worthy -- we all are!
I don't give to my children conditionally, thinking I'll only continue giving if they take proper care of my gifts. I give to them as much as I can, simply because I love them, and I know what I'm giving will bring them joy -- and I want them to be joy-filled.
Another point, as I thought it on more deeply, both during our talk with Andy and later talking with Gary about it, is that parents who forward this opinion malpractice their children. We all know kids often do and become what we expect of them. It's the best argument for saying "walk!" instead of "don't run!" After all, if Mom felt a need to say "don't...." then she must believe the child was going to do what she just prohibited. By saying to children "we only care for what we earn" what we're really doing is giving them license to devalue gifts, both received and given. We're saying we expect them to be careless with the things we give them. We're telling them that the only way to receive any good in life is to earn it. Those aren't the lessons I hope to give my children.
I want my children to be both generous and grateful, to recognize and honor the inherent worth of everyone they know and love. To care for and enjoy what comes into their lives, whether they earned it or someone else gave it to them. To be cheerful givers and cheerful recipients. I want them to know that sometimes the best expression of love we can give someone is to let them help love, honor and celebrate us by accepting their gift.
Tuesday, April 20, 2010
Living My Joy Out Loud
The recent newscasts on Radical Unschooling, and subsequent online and in person conversations with other unschoolers, have spurred an epiphany for me.
Not about unschooling specifically. I'm already decided and happily so on that point. We are definitely whole life unschoolers. My aha moment is about living my joy, sharing it with others, not to convince them of its rightness, but simply because I want my joy to be completely savored, to infuse my every moment. Not only can JOY and fear not co-exist, joy can't even fully co-exist with reluctance or when hidden.
For much of my life, I've hidden my joy from my own family of origin (sometimes going to great lengths), and of course, from most other people, too. The notable exception is that I never hide my joy from Gary or our children, because I know they completely 'get' me, and won't laugh at what makes me feel joyous.
Growing up, I quickly realized that what I celebrate as joy and wonder, others viewed as naivete, irresponsibility, idealism. I was dismissed and mocked for my joy. I was told I was mistaken, that really what I celebrated wasn't worthy of celebration; that I should aspire to more 'important' things than just happiness.
So, I learned to hide my joy from them, as a way to protect it, to keep my own soul safe. Those experiences left me reluctant to show my joy to anyone, lest they use it to criticize and wound me. I also resented feeling like I had to explain or defend my joy to anyone, especially those who purported to love me. Soon, I was hiding my joy from teachers, all adults, school friends (I wouldn't want my fanciful ideas to cause them to dislike me), and sometimes even myself. I was afraid to be joyful because it was one more thing 'they' could take from me. Experience tells me that first they'll do their best to sully my joy, to shame me into letting go of it, and if that doesn't work they'll try to deny me it outright.
And while I know, in the depths of my soul, that my joy is real -- that no one can take it from me -- I still tend to hide it. It's an old habit. For years, I was afraid they were right -- that I wasn't worthy of real joy. That no one is, because joy and happiness are the panacea of the ignorant. Today, when I hide my joy, I tell myself it's because the naysayers aren't worth my time and energy, and I can quietly go about my life, keeping my joy hidden in the shadows. Really, tho, it's because I don't want to feel like I have to fight for my right to live joyously. The truth is I DON'T HAVE TO! How cool is that?! And how freeing!
I don't really fear 'them' now, but still I let my old habits of hiding hold me back. I walk around expecting a fight, expecting to be told I'm wrong, that the world isn't the way I want it to be, the way I know it can be. That tendency to hide my joy dampens my active enjoyment, tho.
I see now that what I need for my joy to be truly full is to live that joy out loud. Not with a sense of belligerence that I don't care what others think, but with a full embracing that joy exists, in me, around me, simply because joy IS. And because hidden joy cheats me and those I love. Joy is meant to shared and lived out loud.
Not about unschooling specifically. I'm already decided and happily so on that point. We are definitely whole life unschoolers. My aha moment is about living my joy, sharing it with others, not to convince them of its rightness, but simply because I want my joy to be completely savored, to infuse my every moment. Not only can JOY and fear not co-exist, joy can't even fully co-exist with reluctance or when hidden.
For much of my life, I've hidden my joy from my own family of origin (sometimes going to great lengths), and of course, from most other people, too. The notable exception is that I never hide my joy from Gary or our children, because I know they completely 'get' me, and won't laugh at what makes me feel joyous.
Growing up, I quickly realized that what I celebrate as joy and wonder, others viewed as naivete, irresponsibility, idealism. I was dismissed and mocked for my joy. I was told I was mistaken, that really what I celebrated wasn't worthy of celebration; that I should aspire to more 'important' things than just happiness.
So, I learned to hide my joy from them, as a way to protect it, to keep my own soul safe. Those experiences left me reluctant to show my joy to anyone, lest they use it to criticize and wound me. I also resented feeling like I had to explain or defend my joy to anyone, especially those who purported to love me. Soon, I was hiding my joy from teachers, all adults, school friends (I wouldn't want my fanciful ideas to cause them to dislike me), and sometimes even myself. I was afraid to be joyful because it was one more thing 'they' could take from me. Experience tells me that first they'll do their best to sully my joy, to shame me into letting go of it, and if that doesn't work they'll try to deny me it outright.
And while I know, in the depths of my soul, that my joy is real -- that no one can take it from me -- I still tend to hide it. It's an old habit. For years, I was afraid they were right -- that I wasn't worthy of real joy. That no one is, because joy and happiness are the panacea of the ignorant. Today, when I hide my joy, I tell myself it's because the naysayers aren't worth my time and energy, and I can quietly go about my life, keeping my joy hidden in the shadows. Really, tho, it's because I don't want to feel like I have to fight for my right to live joyously. The truth is I DON'T HAVE TO! How cool is that?! And how freeing!
I don't really fear 'them' now, but still I let my old habits of hiding hold me back. I walk around expecting a fight, expecting to be told I'm wrong, that the world isn't the way I want it to be, the way I know it can be. That tendency to hide my joy dampens my active enjoyment, tho.
I see now that what I need for my joy to be truly full is to live that joy out loud. Not with a sense of belligerence that I don't care what others think, but with a full embracing that joy exists, in me, around me, simply because joy IS. And because hidden joy cheats me and those I love. Joy is meant to shared and lived out loud.
Monday, February 1, 2010
on unconditional love
Recently, the idea of unconditional love has been put forth as an essential part of radical unschooling and parenting. I've been back and forth on the topic myself. While the idea of being loved for exactly who I am sounds very good and comforting, I'm not sure what that really means. We all want to be loved, and we want to be loved and valued for who we are. But what does that really mean?
In the past several months, I've seen five couples decide to separate or end their marriages. In my relatively small social circle, five is a big number. In the context of that, and thinking about my experience with divorce -- my own and my parents' divorces -- I've given a lot of thought to what people mean when they talk about unconditional love. Could unconditional love save/redeem those marriages? What part does it play in my own marriage?
My first thought is "what is unconditional love?"
Does unconditional love mean loving me even with graying hair, 50lbs overweight, sometimes grumpy and impatient and tired, being patient with me and kind to me when I'm sick? Does it mean appreciating my individual interests, strengths and passions, and loving me for who I uniquely am? I have to say that sounds pretty good!
Does it also mean loving -- and staying with -- a partner who is being dishonest, or unfaithful, or physically abusive, or who gambles away the paycheck? If not, what does unconditional love mean in those circumstances?
Today's thoughts on unconditional love started with this quotation posted to a friend's facebook statue:
"I Love You' has very little meaning if 'I Love Me' is not anchored and integrated first." Jim Self
I replied:
I could argue that one. I agree that loving myself is important, but I have found that it is possible to really love other people without fully loving yourself first. It's what saved my life 25 yrs ago when I loved my child so much more than I loved myself. And it wasn't the only time I learned that lesson, tho each time I come closer to really loving myself as much as I'm blessed to be loved by others.
More back and forth followed, and the idea of unconditional love was added to the mix. I could feel a blog post coming on as I posted a reply much too long for someone else's status update. That left me feeling like I would really enjoy exploring the whole idea, so I've expanded on my answer here.
I'm not really a proponent of unconditional love for adults, even myself. I feel that I love my children unconditionally, but even then I wonder if it's more a conviction within me that my children simply aren't capable of doing anything that would result in me not loving them. What I mean by that is, there are definitely actions that could cause me to stop loving a person, I just believe my children are emotionally healthy enough to choose not to do those things.
And if they did those things, I'd have to wonder where I failed them as a Mom.
In the past several months, I've seen five couples decide to separate or end their marriages. In my relatively small social circle, five is a big number. In the context of that, and thinking about my experience with divorce -- my own and my parents' divorces -- I've given a lot of thought to what people mean when they talk about unconditional love. Could unconditional love save/redeem those marriages? What part does it play in my own marriage?
My first thought is "what is unconditional love?"
Does unconditional love mean loving me even with graying hair, 50lbs overweight, sometimes grumpy and impatient and tired, being patient with me and kind to me when I'm sick? Does it mean appreciating my individual interests, strengths and passions, and loving me for who I uniquely am? I have to say that sounds pretty good!
Does it also mean loving -- and staying with -- a partner who is being dishonest, or unfaithful, or physically abusive, or who gambles away the paycheck? If not, what does unconditional love mean in those circumstances?
Today's thoughts on unconditional love started with this quotation posted to a friend's facebook statue:
"I Love You' has very little meaning if 'I Love Me' is not anchored and integrated first." Jim Self
I replied:
I could argue that one. I agree that loving myself is important, but I have found that it is possible to really love other people without fully loving yourself first. It's what saved my life 25 yrs ago when I loved my child so much more than I loved myself. And it wasn't the only time I learned that lesson, tho each time I come closer to really loving myself as much as I'm blessed to be loved by others.
More back and forth followed, and the idea of unconditional love was added to the mix. I could feel a blog post coming on as I posted a reply much too long for someone else's status update. That left me feeling like I would really enjoy exploring the whole idea, so I've expanded on my answer here.
I'm not really a proponent of unconditional love for adults, even myself. I feel that I love my children unconditionally, but even then I wonder if it's more a conviction within me that my children simply aren't capable of doing anything that would result in me not loving them. What I mean by that is, there are definitely actions that could cause me to stop loving a person, I just believe my children are emotionally healthy enough to choose not to do those things.
And if they did those things, I'd have to wonder where I failed them as a Mom.
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I find the idea of unconditional love is a very intriguing concept to explore, and I keep coming back to it. Gary and I have talked a lot about it. We agree that neither of us would want the other to love us unconditionally, as we define 'unconditional'. While we do want to be loved for who we innately are -- our passions and quirks and as we age -- we each also expect the other to call us on it when we're not being the person we'd like to be. I don't want to have to feel like I have to be perfect all the time, or like I can't be myself, but neither do I want to be allowed to regress to the point of unkindness or selfishness.
When I'm being impatient with the kids or just in a foul mood for some reason, I'm uncomfortable when Gary sometimes comes to my defense. Yes, I can see it means he loves me, but I expect him to call me to be a better person. When he doesn't do that, I'm horrified to see him defending me when I feel that what I've done is indefensible. That I've put him in the position of defending a temper tantrum on my part? Ick! That's not helpful and I do self-correct, because I want to be a kinder, more patient person. I Yes, I can make excuses for my behavior, but even better if he can point it out to me and stop me before I fall short.
As I continued to think about this, more specific thoughts followed.
What would this unconditional love I hear folks extolling really look like in day-to-day life? Would it mean staying with a partner who abused you, or slept around, or gambled away all the family's income? Really? Those are healthy things for our kids to learn, healthy examples for them to emulate?
If unconditional love means standing by a partner who mistreats you, then how does that demonstrate any bit of the self-love cited as a requirement for loving another person? If I love myself, aren't I worthy of being treated kindly? If I'm kind to my partner, why let him be unkind to me? Is it somehow wrong for me to say "I am valuable and deserve better treatment from you, and if you continue to mistreat me, I'm going to leave you?" Is it wrong for someone to say, "you've treated me badly, and honestly, I just don't love you anymore"?
More importantly to me, is this a standard of behavior I want to model for my children? Do I really want my son to believe it's okay for his wife to have multiple affairs while married to him? Would I want my daughter (if I had one) to continue loving a man who hit her, or her children? After all, wouldn't leaving be conditional love?
And do I really want to be loved unconditionally? I don't really think I'd be well-served by believing that I could treat Gary badly and expect that he'd still love me unconditionally.
The reality for me is that love is conditional. I fell in love with Gary because he was a good man, who was/is nice to me, and he's intelligent and funny and generous and patient. If he were brutish and stingy and impatient and abusive, I'd not have fallen in love with him.
I had a husband before Gary, who was immature and impatient and abusive and petty. I loved him, at a time when I definitely did not love myself. And I stayed until the day I saw him hit our 5 month old baby. I can honestly say that in that moment I stopped loving him. I lost the ability to ever trust him again. I certainly couldn't stay and face a future of explaining to my (abused) child that we stayed because I love people unconditionally.
I welcome comments on this topic and I'd like to see what answers others have found to my questions. I'd really like to explore this topic more, to better understand what my friends mean when they talk about unconditional love. So fire away if you disagree with me.