my square one

As a Matter of Fact....

2012-02-04T11:03:00.000-08:00

As a matter of fact, no, I'm not concerned about how my children are doing. That is, if by concerned you mean worried enough to let you plant seeds of doubt in my thought.

I am, however, involved with my children. I spend my days learning with my children, having fun with them, simply enjoying our life together.

I do not spend my time concerned about how they match up with other children you may know or have read about. I'm not concerned with how well they'd do on a test, or whether or not they are 'up to grade level' as compared to students their age in school, either in our local district or even nationwide. I don't feel any particular need to answer to anyone, other than my husband and our children for how we spend our days, our weeks and even our years.

How do we spend our days, you might ask? But likely, if you're one of those expressing your vague concerns (especially if you're expressing them to people other than me, in the hopes they'll be able to convince me where you've failed) you won't. It's been my experience that the people who want to plant seeds of doubt, who want to use their 'concern' as a way to convince us to parent our children in a more mainstream way, seldom bother to ask what we do. Neither do they want to know what our goals are or why we've made the choices we have. They seem more concerned with what we don't do. I understand that. But I'm not swayed by their concern.

Sometimes, I'm willing to speak to other's concerns, to calm their fears if I can. I'll do that once or twice even, but if those 'concerns' become a pattern of interference, I begin to dismiss them, and I'm likely to keep those people out of my children's lives. I am very interested in how my children are doing, in whether or not they are happy, engaged in life, well supported in the pursuit of their passions, if they are joyful or peaceful. I revel in their accomplishments, listen as they tell me about their passions, and often just notice for my own internal checklist of sorts which practical skills (the things they might miss by not being in a classroom) they use routinely.

I also look for signs that they may be struggling, or frustrated, or bored and in need of something new to catch their attention. Really, this is much less arduous than it sounds. I keep track of all this by spending time with them, joining them for their favorite tv shows, watching a youtube video when they ask, asking how Andy how his latest World of Warcraft campaign went, and listening to his answer. I do this by staying for Dan's soccer or baseball practice, by talking to the boys in the car as we run errands or go shopping, by asking them about their plans for the day.

I make sure we have the things they need to have fun, to learn, or to simply enjoy a day -- dry ice, magazines about video games, songs on iTunes accounts. We window shop at Sportsmans' Warehouse, Gamestop, the knife store in the mall. We watch tv news, and trade online links. I know the music they enjoy, which games they play and what things they'd like to buy with the money they are saving up.

I know who their friends are, and what they talked about with my friends (because my kids tell me, not that my friends tell me), because they are as likely to talk with the other adults in our social circle as they are with friends their own age.

We read newspapers, talk about elections, candidates, politics and what's happening in the world around us. They ask me about my opinion on a topic, about what I liked or did for fun when I was their age. They share with me what they think, what they believe and how they arrived at those opinions and beliefs. And I learn so much from those conversations. For example, I had no idea who Schrodinger's cat was, and the link to quantum physics, until Andy cited that in explaining his own beliefs about God. He'd heard it mentioned on a tv show, was intrigued by the reference and read up on it. Then he applied the principle to his own questions.

Taking in all this information about my children and their day to day lives, I get a good sense of what kinds of things they might enjoy, so I know what sorts of other things they might enjoy and what things might contrast with their understanding of something and might spark interest in new areas. I share cool things I come across with them, just as I share cool things I see with Gary. Some of the things I share they snap right up and enjoy, others sit for a while until someone notices and runs with them or lays them aside for attention later, or maybe never.

As the days go by, we all weave a life together. Passions come and go, interests peak and wane, joy is found in unexpected places and small -- or large -- moments shine brightly. In the midst of all this joy and calm and peace and the bright moments, which add up into bright, joyful hours and days, we come to know more about each other. We learn together, and I am continually amazed by how much my children are learning and growing day by day, by how much we all grow together.

The learning we manage to pack into a day can sometimes be hard to define, but when looked at big picture, I can honestly say I'm not concerned. I am convinced that this life we've crafted for ourselves, that we continue to define as we go along together provides for our children all they need to be happy, joyful, peaceful, interesting people. And that's all that matters to me!

For anyone who might be concerned, our boys are generous, helpful, reliable, funny, smart and passionate about what's important to them. Really, what could I possibly find to be concerned about?

on Love

2012-01-17T07:09:00.001-08:00

I sat down to write on the topic of love, thinking I'd have wonderful, uplifting words to share. I was surprised when what spilled out seemed a little darker than I usually post publicly. I've decided to go ahead and share it anyway.

The love that existed in my childhood was entirely conditional.

Now, more than 40 years later, I understand that was because neither of my parents had experienced unconditional love, had never been loved simply for who they were. Each had internalized in their own way the message that they weren't good enough to be loved as they were, which naturally meant that kind of love simply didn't exist. Rather, they learned that loving someone gave you the right to define their value, to reshape them.

As a child, though, it wasn't at all clear to me what it meant to love or be loved. I very naturally loved people as I found them, with no expectation that they'd change for me. I assumed other people loved the same way I did. When I found my love wasn't returned as genuinely as I expected, I took that as a sign I wasn't worthy of love. This isn't to say I wasn't told I was loved, but that I knew I wasn't loved for who I really was -- I was shown love and rewarded for being who my mother wanted me to be, who she needed me to be. For a time, I tried to become what my parents wanted me to be. Gradually, though, I learned to keep who I was, what I felt and thought, private -- secret even.

That misunderstanding of love colored my life for decades. I continued to believe it was sign that something was inherently wrong with me. To be safe I hid myself, waiting for that day when I'd find people who could love me. As a consequence, my parents never fully understood me. I don't know if honesty on my part would have made any difference. I suspect it would only have made me less safe. The feeling of unworthiness is something I still occasionally struggle with, though less often now.

That life was supposed to be hard, unfair, mean, untrustworthy was a given. My parents did love us (as best they could). I remember my mother insisting was her job to teach us how the world *really* was, to help us fit into it. They believed, as so many people do, that learning early on how to fit in was the only way we'd ever be happy, the only way to spare us the pain of unfulfilled, unrealistic dreams. She deeply believed, and often told me, that I was "too sensitive" and "real life isn't like you think it is." I believe that in their paradigm, they felt reshaping us was a kindness, in addition to being their duty. It was also a given, in that children needed to be shaped, controlled, led, protected. It was the only loving thing they knew to do.

I disagree. To this day, I am convinced that once we accept that life is supposed to be hard, we give ourselves an excuse for unkindness, and we perpetuate the hard life we've come to expect. Certainly that's not a loving legacy for our children.

Still today, I see many parents who seem to believe the same things about how hard life is; who believe that part of their responsibility as a parent is to prepare their child for that hard life. Parents who feel that part and parcel of loving a child is a responsibility to mold and shape their child to be sure he or she will to be sure their child will be found loveable by the other people we meet in life -- grandparents, teachers, employers, future partners. Usually, that's just a reflection of how unworthy so many of us were made to feel in our own childhoods.

As a parent, I've found myself asking if it's even possible to reshape another person -- as a positive act, I mean. We all know that by not loving a child, or even by loving them not enough or in a manner unsuitable to the child; by mistreating, abusing, or neglecting them, it is absolutely possible to warp, stunt and misshape a child. In fact, becoming stunted and misshapen is virtually guaranteed when a child is insufficiently loved. I've come to see that reshaping another person, adult or child, is like squeezing a jelly-filled doughnut into another shape. No matter what you do, what's inside comes spilling out, impossible to contain. You end up with a misshapen, empty doughnut. Except that as a parent, we risk creating a misshapen, empty person.

Often, those misshapen people in their own turn go on to repeat those methods with their children. It usually begins with a desire to protect them from a harsh and unfair world. And so often that shaping of a child to make him more loveable goes against everything in a parent's heart. Why else would there be so many conflicting voices on how to control, direct, guide, protect, educate -- in a word, shape -- your child? Why would training, controlling, directing our child be so painful to our own hearts? Why is it so hard to hear your child cry it out? Why do parents tell children "this hurts me more than it hurts you"?

Those things are hard and hurtful because those aren't expressions of love. They are distortions of love. The only reason someone needs to tell parents such things about loving a child is because that advice goes against the grain of what it really means to simply love a child, or a partner or ourselves.

How about instead we re-shape the world that others would have us accept? We love ourselves enough to love our children, our partners, our friends the way we all deserve to be loved, by loving him or her as they are? What could happen if we allow ourselves to cast out the misshapen parts others imposed on us, to question the "have to" aspects of life, to step back a bit from the fears inculcated in us by our parents, our teachers, our culture at large, and give ourselves permission to radically love -- our partners, our children, ourselves?

In the almost 27 years I've been a Mom, to three very different children, I've found myself called often to step back, to look at the child standing before me with love, to stop myself from telling him who he needs to be today, or to become tomorrow, what he 'must' do to fit into the world as I see it, as others would define his future. I've learned to support them for who they are, to help them define who they want to be, and what they want from life. I know there are times when I'm not entirely adept at this, moments when their definition of who they are and what the world is, bumps against my fears for how they'll be accepted, whether they'll ever be happy, my desire that they be loved.

And I've learned, when those fears are about how they'll fit into the world, that I want passionately to change that world for them. I'm not always able to change the world for them, but that doesn't mean I have the right to change my child. His path is his own to find.

The love I feel for my children that calls me to help them craft a life that will feed their souls is what led me to unschooling, to parenting and living as we do. It also calls me to love myself. At first, I did this only because I believed that loving myself would make me a better support for my boys; now I see that we all, even myself, have a right to be loved for who we are. Would that I had figured this out about love much sooner than I did. I hope my boys figure it out faster than I did.

Let's love our children and ourselves -- as well as our partners and friends -- enough to see that we can reshape the world to accept us as we are. It's much more productive to reshape our world than it is to reshape someone else's identity.

Celebrating Life's Events -- Nov Blog Carnival

2010-11-17T09:16:00.001-08:00

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.

Is it radical unschooling. . .

2010-08-17T05:25:00.001-07:00

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 now 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.

just how radical?

2010-08-04T15:42:00.001-07:00

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'm that Mom

2010-07-26T16:53:00.001-07:00

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.

unschooling myself -- body, mind and soul

2010-07-02T13:14:00.000-07:00

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,

My Own Magic Wand

2010-06-25T08:42:00.000-07:00

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!

The Value of Things

2010-05-17T07:29:00.000-07:00

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.

Living My Joy Out Loud

2010-04-20T20:09:00.000-07:00

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.

on unconditional love

2010-02-01T21:15:00.000-08:00

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.

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.

Expectations and Authenticity

2009-12-02T11:22:00.001-08:00

Yesterday, again over at Facebook, I responded to a status update about not having any expectations who our children will "turn out" to be. I said that I don't think expectations are necessarily all bad, that I do have expectations for my kids.

In the course of that conversation, I looked up the word expectation and found that it doesn't fully capture what I meant to say. I think it's become another catchword that people use when they really mean something else -- something like rules or requirements or enforcements, because "expectations" sounds nicer and makes us feel like we're being respectful.

The original poster said she's ready for "some new radical unschooling catch words...with their true meanings applied." My response to was that I'm so over catchwords, because they quickly get re-defined for individual purposes. It occurs to me that a more honest word for me that maybe "standards" is a better word than expectations in this instance. There are standards I choose to ask my children to meet. I don't feel it's wrong for me to hold my children to my standards for behavior and they way I'd like to see them treat each other. I also choose to point out to them behaviors I consider important in how they treat their friends. I regularly share with them my own observations about how I see the children we know treat each other, and I tell them I feel it's important for them to speak out when they see any person mistreat another. Standing by quietly makes us complicit, and sometimes that complicity costs us friendships.

I will be honest about this. Sometimes I am coercive, and we do have standards for behavior in our home, which sometimes are enforced by the adults who can see a much bigger picture than the kids see in this moment. And I'm okay with that.

I've heard a lot of talk about authenticity lately (another of those catchwords come back to bite us in the ass). I've seen parents stand by quietly, giving no input, while children are unkind to other people (kids and adults), while they damage or destroy property. Often, these parents defend their own non-involvement as respecting their child's authenticity, or as letting them learn from life.

Is it more valuable for me as a parent to respect what may be my child's authentic desire in each moment, with no regard for the long-term effects, or to intervene in the hopes of averting damaging long-term effects? Has authentic become just another mutating catchword in the semantics game?

Sometimes our kids do things that Gary & I sincerely believe aren't in their best interest, things that aren't going to help them in their path to becoming the people they want to be. Is quietly standing by when a child threaten to breaks a game/toy that is important to him (or expensive to replace) because, in this moment, he authentically feels angry really a loving choice for me to make? I don't think so. I'm going to point out to him that if he breaks that now, he'll likely miss it later when he's not angry. I may even take the item away from him to prevent him from doing something I know he will regret.

What if he authentically feels he'd like to punch his brother? What if he feels really justified, and if even I can see his brother "has it coming"? Is it okay for me to let the angry, perhaps wronged child, do whatever he *authentically* feels like doing? No, I can't do that, because everyone who lives in our home has a right to safety. Equally important, I know my child doesn't really want to be the one who hurts other people. At his core, he's kind and loving, but just doesn't always have the tools to take the high road. He needs someone to remind him of who he is, of who he wants to be.

That's not true just for children either. Sometimes, I react badly to something someone's done that hurts or angers me, and I'm grateful for the times Gary, a friend, or even my own children, remind me of what I hold dear, and the qualities I really want to express; of who I really want to be -- and who I don't want to be, because those lessons can take 47 years (or maybe even 77 years) to remember in the tough moments.

Sometimes, too, our children do things that cost a much higher price than they can comprehend at their ages. Things said to another child, a friend, that are deeply hurtful and simply can't be unsaid, no matter how many times one apologizes. Friendships can be lost completely in those moments. Unhealthy patterns of behavior can be learned on both sides. If no one points out the damage done, unkind, hurtful or unsafe, may be the way others come to see a person. It can be hard to undo that damage, both to other and to ones' self-image. Children seldom understand the real damage words can do. For that matter, many adults seem ignorant of the damage words do, the damage intolerance and unkindness does to a person's heart and mind.

If I can help my children avoid hurting other people, and by extension, themselves, it would be unloving for me to stand by and "let them figure it out on their own". For me to neglect to share my perspective and experience with my children and call it respectful parenting just isn't something I can lovingly do.

Simplicity Parenting -- Updated

2009-11-21T08:24:00.000-08:00

After I wrote this blog post last week, a friend who hadn't read the Facebook discussion (she's not online) brought me a copy of the Time magazine with the article about Over-Parenting. I told her some of what had been discussed on Facebook about the article, and that I was bothered to see unschoolers defending 'benign neglect' as being part of unschooling.

My friend made a good point that for the target audience of the Time article -- mainstream parents who tend to over-schedule their kids and overwhelm them with expectations of what they *must do* to be a success in life -- neglecting their kids likely would be an improvement over the madness of having 'helicopter' parents. I agree that it's counter-productive to schedule and control every moment, or even most moments, of a child's life, but I simply don't like the word neglect, even benign.

======

In the past couple of weeks, I've seen unschoolers cite news reports of what's being called a new movement in parenting -- Simplicity Parenting or Slow Parenting. Some are hailing it as a good move, something that may bring families closer to unschooling or peaceful parenting. I've read several links and I'm not convinced it's a good move in and of itself.

Yes, it's a move away from over-scheduled, over-stressed kids who appear to exist simply as vicarious vessels for their parents, but it looks a lot like just the other end of the pendulum swing.

The latest article, at time.com The Backlash Against Overparenting is the one I read this morning. A couple of folks have posted links on their Facebook walls saying *I love this!*

I followed the link to read it, and I'm not loving it. Yes, the stories shared show some kids are being allowed to step off the achievement junkie train, but at the same time parents are still being encouraged to do things that diminish kids as people.

There were lots of parts in that article I didn't love. This part, for example, is just so disrespectful of children:

*Kim John Payne, author of Simplicity Parenting, teaches seminars on how to peel back the layers of cultural pressure that weigh down families. He and his coaches will even go into your home, weed out your kids' stuff, sort out their schedule, turn off the screens and help your family find space you didn't know you had, like a master closet re-organizer for the soul.*

How many kids are going to be happy, or feel loved and respected when Mom/Dad bring in a stranger (or do it themselves) to *weed out the kids stuff*? Would the same parents want their kids to take it upon themselves to weed out Mom's closet, or get rid of Dad's computer? I doubt it.

It may be a positive move away from over-scheduling and over-controlling kids, but it doesn't appear to be any more respectful of kids as people. Looks to me like the other end of the pendulum swing from over-parenting.

It was pointed out to me that integral to Simplicity Parenting is letting go of fear as parents. That's a good thing. Every day, we're told what we should fear for our children -- whether your child will fall behind, or miss some essential experience, or never get into the *right* college, that they'll never be happy or successful, that danger lurks around every corner. The media in general seem to exist for the express purpose of elevating our fear level.

I don't know what Slow Parenting is all about (tho it makes me chuckle and I instantly thought of a TV show title I saw last week, "Pregnancy for Dummies". Maybe slow parents are what pregnant dummies become?).

Step parents

2009-11-10T18:37:00.001-08:00

I've been pondering a lot lately on the idea of family in all its forms. Good or bad marriages, good or bad divorces, good remarriages -- all seem implicated in some way in folks' opinion of what best fosters unschooling and happy, well-adjusted children.

Earlier today, on Facebook, there was a post topic entitled *Tell Me About Your Fabulous Kids* which included the following question about Step-parenting:

Are any of your kids adopted/step/foster kids? Do you find it makes a difference?

I read this reply:

No. I had step parents. I think it makes a difference...for the worse for me, and others I know. Haven't seen a situation where it made a difference for the better yet. **

.... and want to share my story of a situation where a step parent did and does make a difference for the better.

Our oldest son, Will, was born during my first marriage, so he's my biological child and Gary's step-child. It's been so long (14 yrs) since Gary adopted Will, that we don't think in terms of step-child anymore.

My family lives a situation where having a step-parent has, and does, make a difference for the better. My ex has never had contact with my son. He couldn't be bothered to even send b'day cards, tho he always knew where we lived. Never called. Never visited. Only sent two child support checks in 9 years. He isn't Will's Dad -- Gary is.

Gary's presence in Will's life made it possible for him to leave school at 16 to homeschool, allows our family to unschool. It makes it possible for Will to afford college (Gary's Dad set up an education fund for the boys). Because I married Gary and Will has a stepfather, he also has very loving, generous grandparents who love him. He's closer to Gary's parents, than he is to my parents.

There is no way that staying my first marriage would have been good for Will, or me. He'd have been abused and frightened and manipulated by people with questionable motives. We both would have been.

There is also no way that remaining single and never remarrying -- avoiding the dreaded step-parent -- would have been a better situation for Will. It would have meant remaining the financially struggling only child of a single Mom, stuck in school, no money for college, no opportunity to have me at home in his teen years. It would have meant no Dad to love him, guide him, or care for his mom (me).

I cannot express the joy and wonder Will would have missed by never having younger siblings, or a huge loving extended family (dh's family). Just the opportunity to have a Dad in itself would have been denied my sweet boy!

I don't know, can't know, if Gary loves Will with the same depth he has for our two younger sons, his biological children. I do know that Gary loves Will more than Will's bio-dad (my ex-husband) ever did. I do know that Gary provides a better life for Will -- who's back home after losing his job last Dec, while going to college (a very generous gift from *step* grandparents) -- than I ever could have alone.

There are times when a step-parent does make a difference for the better. And I'm ever so grateful for that.

to label or not to label

2009-10-20T08:12:00.001-07:00

Earlier today, I joined a discussion of *unschooling special needs kids* over at the Radical Unschooling forum.

I think many people find homeschooling or unschooling because their child doesn't fit into society's box, but I'm not convinced that labeling is helpful for every child who doesn't fit into that box. It's really a very small box.

In my experience, once you go through the diagnostic process with your child, whether you're given a label or rule labels out, the questions only grow. If a label *fits* your child, then what do you do next? Do you try to fix your child, to make him normal? Which method, drug, or treatment plan will achieve the goal of normal? Or, do you embrace his differences and find ways to support who he is, moment by moment?

Sometimes parents ask if the labels -- medical or behavioral -- mean their child can't unschool. They are afraid to fully trust their child to learn without some kind of imposed structure. Sometimes they have several children and worry that the special needs child should be treated differently. Really, all children should be treated differently, uniquely, because each child is unique.

Even without labels, I find myself doing different things with each of my 3 kids, because they're very different people, and their needs from me vary. My needs in my relationship with them vary, and each situation calls for an individual response. I'm very aware that Will's Mama is not exactly the same as Andy's Mom or Dan's Mom -- but I do my best to be the best mom to each of our boys. Really, they don't need the same Mom. Each boy needs his Mom to be respond to him in the way that best supports him.

I agree that there can be times when a child's particular needs result in different responses to situations. Knowing my child will be who he is for much longer than the time he'll spend living in my home, I'm committed to finding ways he can get his needs met, so that when I'm not there to tell him what I think he needs to do, he'll be able to figure it out for himself.

In recent years, the numbers of kids with spectrum qualities has sky-rocketed. I think that is in large part due to a narrowing of the definition of *normal* for people. There have always been people who don't fit the average expectations for a population at large. Looking back into my own family, from stories I heard over the years, I can pick out the *odd* ones. The uncle who never married, and lived in a travel trailer in the family's backyard; the aunt who re-defined *eccentric cat lady* are only two.

If the online screening tests I've seen are any indication, I fall somewhere on the autism spectrum. The difference is that 40 years ago it was perfectly okay if a smart girl was shy, and read lots of books, and was a little different. Really, we're an odd bunch overall, so it should surprise me that medical science has now found a label for several of us? Not a bit!

Andy, our intense, sweet, generous, amazingly funny, and very unique son, has had some challenging times this year. I've heard -- and well remember -- that being 13 is like that. For me, it was the transitional nature of the teen years. I'm really no good at transitions. I fight change tooth and nail. I like things just. the. way. they. are, thankyouverymuch. Even when things are not easy, I like predictability. Andy's like that, too, so the seemingly never-ending change of the past year has been a bear. Not always our wondrous Andy-bear, more like a raging, hungry bear. It's been rough not just for Andy, but for those of us who love him, too.

Truth be told, the past several months have been challenging on so many levels for our family. Andy's just our second-most reliable bellwether, after me. That's because we're both just big empathic sponges, and incredibly intense. I'm just more experienced at managing the onslaught. It gets easier after 4 decades or so.

We recently considered having Andy diagnosed. I talked it over with him, asking whether he thought it would be helpful to have a label that might give us some new tools for coping. I was feeling very out of tools, and at a loss for how to help him with some issues. Some years ago, in talking about school and Will's time there, I had mentioned to Andy that the kind of different he is, they have names for. Andy knows he's not like most people, and having carried that around most of my life, I see no reason to avoid talking about differences. For us, they're just a part of life, of who we are.

Andy and I discussed the possibilities with his regular doctor. It was a difficult conversation, in part because we explored just how unhappy Andy has been, which had me in tears. It was helpful, tho, in that I heard things from Andy that he'd been keeping from me because he didn't want to add to my burden, or to Will's burden. He was willing to hack his way through the jungle alone, but it was just becoming too much.

We got a referral, thought about it for a few more days, called to set up an appointment, and never heard back from the doc. In the meantime, there were more conversations, where I found out more of what was going on inside his thoughts and heart. This lead to brainstorming solutions. I think it also helped relieve Andy's feelings that he's alone in this. A common thread for Andy is he worries that if he asks me for help, he'll never figure out how to solve problems on his own, so he tries to get by without help.

Along the way, I looked more into myself and gained some insights -- some easy to follow, some less easy to explore and sit with. With those insights and a move to find strategies to help me be more present, more aware of our needs, solutions have come to light.

Today I'm feeling it's good we didn't get to actually talk to the referral doc. We've found new tools and insights on our own, and I'm confident that, right now, a label wouldn't really add anything helpful to our life. Andy was really back and forth about seeing another doctor. He'd have gone, but I don't really think his heart was in it. He's not interested in having a label, but would have let us get one if we thought it would help us.

Labels just aren't what we want in our lives right now. They're not likely to bring us more joy, which is what we want in our life right now.

the good and the bad

2009-09-15T04:51:00.000-07:00

Someone recently asked me what I thought about authenticity, in the context of how the unschooling life is depicted online. I think there is, in human nature, a tendency to depict ourselves in ways that promote the wonderfulness of our chosen life. We all want to look capable and successful. We want privacy for our flaws and foibles. We naturally feel a desire to protect our less-than-wonderful moments from the harsh judgment of others.

When we're talking about and encouraging others to understand what we love, like unschooling, it's easy to share the good and triumphant moments, and we're understandably reluctant to share the rough moments. I've always felt that's unfair to others, because sharing only from our good file can make whatever we're doing look unattainable to anyone who is slogging through the trenches. People new to unschooling sometimes reply that our kids must be easier to live with, which is unfair to their kids and ours. Some days we're all in the trenches, so it's not even fair to ourselves to pretty it up all the time.

When I share the difficult moments, I do my best to do it in ways that don't malign Gary or the boys. I don't always share everything, because as a mom, I feel a responsibility to respect my sons' privacy. The same is true for my relationship with Gary. Just like I don't complain about his flaws (no, it's not just because he's perfect), I also respect the privacy of our more personal conversations.

I don't share any bad on the family blog, and not a lot here either. I'm thinking that's about to change -- at least on this blog. The family blog address has been shared with the grandparents, and I'd rather not share my bad days with them, thankyouverymuch.

Whether I'm posting in an online unschooling forum, or talking in person with other unschoolers, when I share the things that make me look bad or petty, it's because I want to be called to task, to be reminded of my higher standards and goals. I don't want someone to tell me it's okay that I'm falling short, that my kids will forgive me or that we all fail sometimes. Still, it helps me to know that everyone fails sometimes -- not to excuse my failures and mistakes, but to let me know perfection isn't required and that I can keep trying, even when everything has me feeling like I should just give up.

I think the risk of sharing only good, happy moments is that people can become ashamed of their own ugly moments, which can result in not sharing the bad, and what's never given the light of day can't be improved. It becomes just more secret-keeping, which is crazy-making for kids. All this said, I still struggle with it today - how to keep my kids safe from prying eyes, (I'm reluctant to share my kids' bad moments because I don't want those moments to define them forever) while being honest with myself and my kids, and finding answers to our struggles -- all without ever really detailing for someone else all of our struggles... it can become a vicious cycle that increases shame.

Sometimes I need a good kick in the pants, and I count on my friends to do that for me. I've read the argument that posting about our shortcomings and failures won't help people to come to unschooling/peaceful parenting faster. Some people apparently feel that talking about failing for a moment (or several) gives the impression it's okay to be unkind to your kid or partner when you're having a bad moment/day; that if we admit that even long-time unschoolers sometimes yell at their kids (I know I do on occasion, when I'm overwhelmed) we set the standard too low. So ugly moments are seldom shared, which can leave some feeling that 'real' unschoolers never have ugly moments. Trust me, we all have them.

And maybe, I'll be sharing some of them here, when I'm feeling the need for a good kick in the pants... Now, tho, I'm off to find online info about the James May's life-sized lego house.

To ask or not to ask, and for what?

2009-09-07T18:21:00.000-07:00

It seems everywhere I look these days, unschoolers are either embracing the law of attraction (loa), or completely refuting it. Over the past few years, I've wondered about the loa.

I have a long history with the loa, and for many years it made complete sense to me, in the way it was presented as part of Christian Science. Since leaving the church in 2002 (after spending most of my life with that as my only religious practice), I've thought about the loa a lot, wondering how much of it I could keep while growing out of the rest of the package. In my days as a religious person, I really liked the loa, and giving it up was scary. It appealed to me as a promise that if I just *knew* the right truths, and incorporated them into my life, I'd manifest only good. Of course it wasn't that simple -- no philosophy practiced in everyday life ever is.

An early question for me was whether or not I believe it is actually possible to 'manifest' or call things into my experience. I've seen many instances where, even today, I absolutely believe I have 'called' things into my experience. I've seen healings of physical conditions (really, I can't call them anything else). I've also seen physical conditions unhealed, despite the same fervency of prayerful reliance on God.

People quoted and recommended books, and I read a few of them -- The Law Of Attraction, The Power of Now, You Can Heal Your Life. I found that each book offered some things I thought were helpful to me, but none of them really spoke to me in whole.

The idea that you can simply ask the universe and it will provide what you want -- fabulous wealth, physical health, the job of your dreams, etc -- is attractive in its own right. I was open to the possibility that there might be something to this, but still hesitant, having seen too many moments when the loa seemed not to work for some people.

All the books I read hinted that anyone not experiencing all good in his/her life just wasn't trying hard enough. None of them come out and say it, but the overall gist seems to be 'if you're not manifesting everything you want, you're just not trying hard enough", or maybe "you're asking for the wrong things for you" (maybe having enough money isn't everyone's right thing, I guess?). Does this mean that not everyone can expect goodness to come to them in the same way it came to someone else? Why not? Why can't the loa -- if it's as all powerful as its proponents suggest -- simply manifest more stuff for more people, in an endless supply of stuff? Could it be that life really does come with limitations? Ah! If that's the case, then one person's abundance might well come at the expense of others who won't be able to attract wealth because others got there first.

I understand the reason I so much wanted to believe the loa during my religious years, and why I wanted to find some way to believe it works in the years since, too. I like guarantees. Plain and simple. I like to be able to trust that if I do all the right things, things will be okay; that I don't need to be afraid. And, hey, a handy list of all the right steps gives me the power to control my experience, and I'm all about control. Those are just my reasons, tho -- I can't speak for anyone else's reasons for believing in the law of attraction.

My experiences also tells me it's not as easy as just asking and receiving. It's no secret to anyone who knows me that I wanted a daughter. It wasn't that I didn't want boys, just that I always expected that someday there'd be a little girl in my home. If it were simply a matter of asking and receiving, I'd definitely be the mother of a daughter or two. I'm not the mom of a daughter, tho. I have three magnificent sons, whom I love completely -- and I'd not trade any of them for a girl. I don't believe there was a was a particular purpose in all my children being boys. It just happened that way. I can assign a purpose to it if I want, but even that conveys some kind of qualifier that makes it okay that I didn't get what I asked for. I'd much rather see my sons' presence in my life as pure love and joy, so I'm doing all I can to take joy in the life I have today, and to not dwell on the things I don't have.

After all the reading and exploring and thinking, where I am today is a meeting of expectancy and pragmatism, I think. Here it is:

Life is unfair. Things happen -- some of them seem good, some seem bad. It's not because I was carelessly thinking about the right or wrong thing, or because I asked for the wrong things, or because I didn't pray/hope hard enough. When bad things happen, there's no inherent purpose in them. The can only have the purpose/s I assign to them. And, really, why would I want to assign power and purpose to bad things? I'd rather assign purpose and power to my response to those bad things.

So, when something bad happens, I have a couple of choices. I can surrender and let them win (never my first choice), or I can ask questions and make what I feel are my best decisions, those most likely to serve me and my family. I can respond lovingly, kindly, and with an expectancy of good. I can strive to be fair to everyone, keeping in mind that I cannot possibly know what the right path is for anyone but myself. I can trust that everyone's motives are good and that we are all, every moment, doing the very best we can with what we have and what we know.

When good things happen, I'll enjoy them, expecting that good will continue -- or at least that I'll manage to find the good in my life, no matter what's going on around me. I'm not comfortable taking credit for any good that doesn't result from actual steps taken by me, just as I won't take blame for any bad that happens despite my best efforts.

Maybe Shakespeare was right when he wrote, "Nothing is either good or bad, but thinking makes it so." Which brings me back to the whole idea of assigning purpose and value to events as they happen. If that's the case, all I can do is try to stay in a mindset of expectancy of good, hopeful that things will all work out for the best, remembering I have no real idea of what the best might look like for anyone else.

After all, if I have no idea what's really good or bad, how will I know what to ask for?

And if I don't know what to ask for, how will I know when *it* has arrived?

Is it supposed to be easy?

2009-06-11T22:44:00.000-07:00

I just love today's note from the Universe!

Sylvia, it's supposed to be easy. Everything is supposed to be easy.
Everything is easy. You live in a dream world. You're surrounded by illusions.
And the illusions change when you change your thinking!

Tell yourself it's easy. Tell yourself often. Make it a mantra. Eat, sleep,
and breathe it. And your life shall be transformed.

It's supposed to be easy,

It just spoke to me so deeply. All our lives, our culture tells us "no one ever said it would be easy" and "nothing worth having comes easy" and "life is supposed to be hard".

In my heart of hearts, I've always thought, "why can't it be easy?" or more honestly, "why does it have to be so hard?" What I've found it that those voices telling me it's not supposed to be easy are the voices from outside me, squashing my own intuitions. I also find that it's hard because I'm getting in my own way, and I'm getting in my own way is because I'm listening to those outside voices.

I don't mean this to say there won't be effort involved or steps to be taken in order to reach our goals or become who we want to be, who we are meant to be, but that when we listen to our own inner voice and are authentic, whatever work must be done won't be onerous. The steps required may be mundane or inane, or simply routinely what must be done next to get from here to there, but they need not feel like insanely hard work.

This idea that all goodness must be earned leads to a feeling of inherent unworthiness, which in turn leads us to ask others for confirmation of our worth; to show us our path, instead of finding that path within ourselves, which allows us to reclaim our worth. Because we are inherenly worthy. And when you're worthy of joy and wonder, why would it be hard to have those things?

It's been a loud and distracting walk the past few days; troublesome and maddening at times, but throughout it all, what needs to be done next has been very clear to me and each step taken brings me closer to my center.

And I love pondering the idea that maybe they're all wrong and it is supposed to be easy.

The nature of hope

2009-03-05T20:43:00.000-08:00

I've been told both hope and trust are good things. I struggle with both, for reasons many and varied. Trust is too big to tackle in one blog post (or maybe in my entire lifetime) but hope is one Gary and I talked thru tonight. I know he doesn't really understand my perspective, but he does understand it's how I feel, which has helped him to reconcile some things about our current situation.

In my own life experience, tho, hope is a liar and a thief. Hope lets me believe that things might be better someday, if I just wait long enough. Which allows me to abandon efforts to make now better because, soon enough, it'll get better. If we can just survive -- not enjoy -- until the hope pans out, then we'll be okay. It's the abandoning now that causes problems for me, because in my sphere of existence, hope is like heroin. I can ignore all the yuck of today -- yuck I could change if I tried -- until the better of my hopes comes to be. And on those occasions when hope doesn't pan out, I'm devastated. I just can't do hope.

This past week, Gary heard about the potential for a local job/route, with the same company that employs him now. I tried not to let myself get too hopeful, not to be too attached to this job as the potential deliverance from this awful time. I hadn't realized how much I'd let myself hope until today, when he found out that job isn't really available after all. The company decided to keep on the driver they were considering letting go. And we're right back to the same reality, minus hope. He still has this job where he's gone 6 days and 4 nights a week.

Really, nothing has changed, except that I allowed myself a week-long trip on hope, and stopped trying to make things better in now-land. And giving up the hope of that job, means I'm stuck back on now-land, where things aren't as I'd like them to be.

The good part, for me, of abandoning hope is that once I refuse the drug hope is for me, I can get about the business of finding the best there is to have in now-land. Sometimes, it's simply an exercise in not letting 'em win -- this is the only time I'll live this day, and dammit, I'm going to enjoy if only to show them I can be happy. At least I used to work that way, but somewhere along the way I've lost touch with the girl who could be happy even when life sucked. In her place is disconsolate madwoman, and she's no fun to live with!

I'm starting to see, tho, that disconsolate madwoman is the outgrowth of doing hope. Since I can't embrace now and hope at the same time, and now is all I have, I'm swearing off hope.

Really, I feel better already. Gary doesn't understand it, but he's happy to say goodbye to disconsolate madwoman.

Is happiness possible?

2009-03-05T17:16:00.000-08:00

A friend had a quotation on her blog "There can be no happiness if the things we believe in are different from the things we do." (Freya Stark) So, does this mean that once I agree to something I don't believe in, there's no way I can be happy? Really? What about if what I agreed to is consistent with another belief I hold? Is it possible to hold conflicting beliefs, or is that just crazy-making?

I believe it's absolutely essential for kids to have both parents (unless one is dead, of course) home at some point during the 24 hours that make up each day. Simply put, parents should sleep at home every night. I believe that when one chooses not to have both parents accessible to the kids, they're failing their kids. I really do believe this. Kids do not need absent parents.

I also believe Gary has a right to be happy in his work, to be free to try new things as long as there's enough income. So, 18 months ago, when Gary told me he'd like to try an over the road driving job, that it would increase his potential for better-paying jobs, and I could see it was really something he needed to try. I felt there was no way to say no to him, and be true to my belief that I want him to be happy.

So, I said yes. Knowing how much we'd miss him (tho we've missed him more than I could have anticipated). Knowing how much hard it would be for me (tho, again, it's been harder than I anticipated). Even tho I suspected the job market was soon going to tank, I hoped against hope he'd be able to try this, and get out in time to still find a job at home.

And here we are today, with me living a life that if anyone were living it, I'd say their unhappiness is just what they had coming. I mean, if you make a choice you know is in opposition to what you fervently believe, you can't expect happiness to follow.

Have I really given up any possibility of happiness by agreeing to something that opposes one belief, while supporting another? Man, I hope not. Which brings me to my next post......

choosing happiness

2008-09-30T04:40:00.001-07:00

The past couple of weeks have been hard for me. Rather, I've made them hard for myself. There seem to be good reasons to be in a funk -- Gary is still away, working, six days a week; the economic crisis has so many implications and we appear powerless to do much about it; my local unschooling group isn't seeing as many families at outings as have joined us online; a home across the street was robbed yesterday, sometime around 8 or 9 am, no less! Plenty of 'reasons' to be worried and stressed, leaving me feeling very out of sorts.

What to do about it? Well, I know I can choose to be happy even when not everything is as I'd like things to be. I've done it before. I can fake it til I feel it, which sometimes works. I can choose to look at my life, to smile at my children, to enjoy the sunshine and blue sky, I can think of Gary even when he's not home and know that I am loved.

Along the way I stumble across reasons to be happy and grateful for all I have -- even when it's not exactly the way I'd like it.

We live in a house that meets our needs for comfort and safety, even with an increase in the mortgage and too many legos on the floor.

Our children are happy, healthy and full of energy. They laugh at the most silly and simple things. Our house is filled with more joy and laughter than my own childhood had.

I have wonderful, amazing friends who really understand me -- and they still like me!

So why is it such a challenge for me to really embrace joy and happiness? To sit with it and feel truly happy and at peace for more than a few minutes? I'm doing my best to get to those answers, walking through the unhappy moments. After all, I don't have to be happy each moment to have a joyful life. I want to be happy overall, tho.

I got a bit closer today, as I woke thinking about how to be happier today, how to reach the end of my day feeling like it was well-spent -- no, even better, that it was well-enjoyed, that I really did spend my day grateful for and celebrating the good I have.

What came to me is that, while I can choose to be happy with less than I had plans for, less than I ideally want, somewhere inside myself, I struggle with feeling like I want it known -- on record, as it were -- that while I made the best of it, this wasn't my plan. I feel like I need people to know I wanted more.

Is that really what I want tho -- to be acknowledged as some tragic soul who wanted more but was denied it? Who figured out a way to make the best of it and sometimes to be grateful and express joy, despite life not being what I planned? What does that do for me, really?

Let's see...

it might relieve me of responsibility for making my own joy, claiming my own happiness,

it might just garner some sympathy from others, more likely, tho it will only garner pity and resentment from folks who say 'why is she so bitter?' (shades of my mother, definitely)

it certainly distracts me from embracing each moment as it comes into my life, from truly being happy right now,

most unforgivable of all, in my book (and this is my book, yes?), it lets 'them' win... let's who win? lack, frustration, disappointment, all those who've said 'you'll see -- life's not always what you want it to be'

Yes, not letting them win may seem like a poor motivation, but it's been a guiding force for me. Sometimes it's good force. It reinforces my determination to keep walking when I could just sit down and give up. Other times, it's not really helpful because it can become a rallying cry for a battle, when I'd be better off just walking away and letting go. Who cares if it looks like 'they' won? When I find my joy then I'm the one who wins the day.

Still, tho, why this frustration with choosing to be happy with less than ideal conditions? I'm beginning to see it's really about fear and distrust. Fear that if I smile and find a way to be happy with now (while still holding hope for more of what I want at some time) others will stop trying; will think I'm happy enough so there's no point in helping me have more. Distrust that the universe really has any good to offer me. Doubt that I have any right to expect as much good as I want. A little anger that others appear to have all they want -- at least they have things that I'd like to have -- while what I want feels like such a struggle. And a measure of petulance that it's not supposed to be this hard.

And, really, is 'my plan' better than what I do have right now?

I have a wonderful husband who loves me, friends who understand me, beautiful healthy kids who love me (I am still daily awed by how much my kids love me. I don't know why it still surprises me after 23 yrs, but it does. Who ever knew I'd be so valued?) We live in a house that meets our needs, in a city we all consider absolutely home, with wonderful fall weather all around me.

Really, how could I choose not to be happy? And that's my epiphany - every time I deny myself the right to be happy and joyous right here, right now, I'm actively choosing NOT to be happy.

So, in this moment, to quote a friend I love, whose path is recently much more rock-strewn than my own ~~ "I want to be happy. So I am."

Then today this quotation showed up in my email box, and it was such a good reminder for me:

We act as though comfort and luxury were the chief requirements of life, when all that we need to make us really happy is something to be enthusiastic about." ~Charles Kingsley

But even more, I can choose to be enthusiastic about even the most ordinary things.

On gunplay

2008-09-24T16:11:00.001-07:00

Another collection of my thoughts that has appeared elsewhere online, imported here.

My Mom was one who never allowed my brother to play with guns—toy or real. We lived in the country until he was 10, and every other boy he knew had a pellet gun. By high school, my brother's life dream was to be a Marine Recon Ranger (he ultimately got 4-F'd) and he could field-strip and reassemble a M-I in under a minute. As an adult, he keeps a gun in the house and shoots at a target range, but has never shot anyone.

When oldest son was young, I 'allowed' gunplay. He had nerf guns, noisy machine guns, a paintball gun at 15, and spent two years of high school in ROTC. He, too, announced his desire to become a Marine. At 16, he quit all that, and explained that while he still enjoys target practice with real guns, he doesn't believe he could ever kill another human being.

Both my son and brother are decent human beings, with no violent tendencies. My son does seem a gentler soul than my brother—or maybe just less battered by life, so less angry.

I believe kids are smarter than many adults give them credit for. I know mine are. As unschoolers, we know our kids are bright enough to figure out there's a difference between real violence and game playing. I'd bet that as free children living more autonomous lives, they understand that you don't have to have a gun to be violent towards someone else. That violence isn't about guns (they're just tools, after all)—violence is about power and control over other people. My instincts tell me that people who have been controlled, limited or denied by other (more powerful) people are more likely to be violent than those who have been respected and supported in pursuit of their own lives.

from a recent discussion on divorce

2008-09-24T16:04:00.000-07:00

I posted a reply over at RU sharing some of my thoughts on divorce and its effects on kids.

After a bit of clean up and some cutting, here's what I have to say:

I used to disagree with the idea that divorce should be avoided whenever possible. I felt then that if one person in the couple was deeply unhappy and wanted out, their right to happiness might mean divorce was the right, or maybe least-bad, answer. I grew up in a home with two parents who should have never married. It wasn't entirely hellish, but close enough that I used to wish my parents would divorce. They finally did when I was 18, just after I left home, and it was beyond hellish for my younger brother and sister who wanted nothing more than to survive long enough to leave home (as I had).

I was divorced once, tho I'm married now. I left an abusive marriage when I saw my then-husband hit our infant son. I used to argue that there were good reasons for divorce aside from abuse. I could even say that kids can turn out okay in divorces -- my oldest son Will and many other kids have turned out okay. But now that I look at Will -- he's 23, and I remarried when he was 10 -- I see the damage a divorce did. Even a good, necessary divorce. The man he is today is in many ways defined by the years he spent as the child of a single mom. His perspective on the world is shaped by that. And he didn't grow up with parents fighting over him (we had only one contact with my ex after we left) or grandparents criticizing Mom.

In recent years I've watched three marriages end to divorce, in unschooling families, and heard news of at least one other, just in my own city which has changed my perspective somewhat. I've also factored in the damage I see in my younger siblings, and the long-term effects on Will, and now, absent abuse (adult or child), I would encourage everyone else to stay married and find a way to work it out. Not to stay and suffer, but to really commit to re-making their marriage into something that protects and blesses their entire family.

This isn't a Christian perspective. Neither is it a non-feminist opinion. I consider it a more pragmatic one. Even in a 'good' divorce, kids have to leave their childhood home on a rotating basis, negotiate new household expectations, spend holidays with only one parent, meet new partners.

In the past few years, I've really come to appreciate the example my in-laws give us, and Gary as a child, about what really is involved in a good marriage. They weren't as good at putting it into words as I might have liked, the but the way they live their marriage is a wonderful example. I can see where I missed huge and very essential lessons in marriage as a result of the fact that neither of my parents were willing to do what it takes to make marriage work.

I hope we can be an equally good example for our kids when they choose partners and get married.

Parents who lie

2008-08-10T06:08:00.000-07:00

Yesterday, I was enjoying a quiet moment to myself (no kids) at a favorite local restaurant. A large family group -- 6 adults and 5 kids -- settled in at the next table. As I read my book, I could overhear snippets of conversation. Before food arrived, I heard the mom threaten 'time-out' twice to one child or another. I considered moving to another table, but I really liked my spot there on patio.

When the food arrived, the little girl (she was 4) was very excited to see her oatmeal arrive. Soon, tho, she wasn't so happy, because it wasn't as tasty as she expected. Then, she complained that she didn't want the milk her mom had ordered for her. She wanted root beer, like her older brother (J) and cousins were having.

Little girl said "I want root beer. Why can't I have it?"

Mom said, "No, because you're not old enough."

"But J has root beer."

And Mom actually said, "The restaurant said no one younger than 5 can have soda."

Does this mom actually think her daughter won't figure out that's a lie? Maybe not today, but someday. More likely, daughter will learn that Mom lies -- to get her own way, and to shut off any further discussion.

And someday the parents will wonder why their little girl lies to get her way and to keep them out of her business.....

I just really can't go out in public anymore without being saddened at the way adults treat children.

This Moment

2008-07-28T10:21:00.000-07:00

On a yahoo unschoolers' group, there's currently a discussion about choosing to fully engage in each moment. At least, that's what I'm getting from it. It dovetails with other thoughts playing out in my life right now.

This past year has been a difficult one for me. Gary being gone 3 (or more) days at a time, week after week for 10 months, has provided ample opportunities for personal growth. That's a good thing, but it didn't always feel good in each moment. There were moments when staying right here felt almost impossible. Gradually, the moments, hours and days have gotten better. I owe much of that the amazing community of friends in my life. People both here in my daily life, and those I only see online, who gave me space, emotional support, and sometimes a kick in the pants (Diana was even kind enough to deliver her kick with a hug).

All this growth has brought me to a place I'd been avoiding most of my life -- being with myself. I've stayed busy, very busy, mostly because I've never been comfortable just being alone with myself. That would require me to be still for a few moments, and I've never been good at that. It would mean I had to acknowledge my own needs - not distractions or indulgences (I'm good that seeing those) -- but my real needs. I'd have to take care of me, honor myself and love myself. Yeah, really not good at that, because first I need to claim my worth. So, what do I do instead? I stay busy, I overbook myself, I avoid being home.

In the midst of this very busy season, I've had such unbelievable love and support from my children, and from Gary, of course. Will comes over and hangs out with us, giving me another adult in the house. Andy asks me when I'm going to make time to take a bath and relax. Dan provides quiet moments and the sweetest hugs. Sometime in this past year, I've met myself. And I see I need more -- from me. I need to BE in each moment - unhurried. I need order and peace and joy. Most of all I need to stop once in a while.

My first step in this was to give up multi-tasking. A big order, since I've multi-tasked virtually my entire life. Certainly for my entire life, I've been a champion multi-tasker. Gary has often told the boys, "Mom can only do 12 things at once and she's at that now, so give her a break." We used to joke about it. Really, tho, I've always envied people who can sit and do nothing for any length of time. Even when I look like I'm doing nothing, I'm mentally filing thru the bills or our schedule, finding several things to worry about doing later! Bad habits and hard to break.

No more, tho. I'm taking time to choose each moment, to either stop what I was doing and be fully present to do the next thing, or to ask for a moment to wrap things up so I can do the next thing. More changes are coming, I know. For today, tho - this moment - it's enough to claim my right to do one thing at a time, to rest once in a while, to have a clean, non-cluttered place in my head and in my soul, and yes in my house -- to just BE.

Feminist Homeschooling?

2008-07-24T11:06:00.001-07:00

Earlier today, I came across a discussion at Radical Unschoolers' Network about an article that appeared recently in bitch magazine online. The author was writing about what she called ‘feminist homeschooling’ and use the phrase 'Radical "unschooling" Moms' in the article's subtitle.

I posted a reply at RU Network. Here it is -- still no excuse, tho, to skip the network.

Overall, I wasn't really impressed with the article.

The whole topic of feminism is a challenge for me. The idea that unschooling is somehow an obstacle to feminism? I'm not crazy about feminism and the way it's presented anyway.
I'm 45 yrs old, and grew up in the days when the feminist message made it very clear that no self-respecting girl should want to be 'just a mom and wife.' Child care was beneath anyone but babysitters and grandmothers. My mother was always back to work 3 wks after having a baby.

I can see that in the 70's, feminism was very much about giving women rights to self-determination. Feminism started as a great idea -- everyone is entitled to self-determination, to find and define their own identity in the world. In that time, there was a need to help women find the power in their own lives to not be dependent on a partner who mistreats, abuses or controls them. Women didn't have any real expectation of rights to fair divorce, reasonable child support and custody or equal protection in domestic disputes. In some instances, women were denied equal access to colleges, jobs and legal equity.

As happens in so many instances, tho, feminism was more a reaction than a response. Not surprisingly, there was much anger, posturing and just general flailing about -- at times, it looked like an all-out tantrum against anything traditionally feminine. Feminism, in many ways, pitted women against children. It said women are ultimately more important than their children.

Wow, there's a message to send your children.

From the age of 10 or so, whenever I told people that the only thing I knew I wanted was to be a Mom, that I wanted to stay home with my kids, I was told I was 'too smart' to be just a Mom. Somehow being a Mom was viewed as a 'just' vocation, presumably only for lazy, not-so-bright women. Who wanted to be 'tied' to a baby?

Recently, my brother told me that he believes I'm 'not living up to my potential' as a person. I could be doing much more important things than being home with my kids, let them go to school. Apparently, spending my time with my kids isn't worth full-time effort -- it can't possibly really engage an adult full-time. Really, caring for children is so unimportant it can be done by any string of minimum-wage-paid daycare workers. It sounds to me like he thinks adults pursuing their own interests is more important than adults supporting their children in exploring the world. Oh wait -- that is what he thinks! And that may be his reality, but it's not mine.

I was bothered by this question: Can women trade their careers for their families without sacrificing a few of their feminist values - the very values that inspired many of them to homeschool in the first place?

I'm always suspicious when anyone tries to tell me how I should feel/behave/respond based solely on the fact that I'm a woman (or because I'm white, or whatever group they lump me into).

The author then goes on to talk about a Mom who worries that her economic dependence on her husband could set a bad example for her daughter. Would she prefer that the wife support the husband, or is both parents working as proof of each partner's independence the only acceptable model? Isn't the Mom's contribution of time and energy at home valuable? Is there no place in feminism for interdependence?

The idea that choosing to be at home always means we're vulnerable and dependent is offensive to me. It implies that no matter how successful a partnership is, the woman can't really trust that it will work out. Really it says women can't trust any man. That's not a message I want to send to our sons. I spent years -- decades -- getting past that message myself. My definition of a family is one where any adults involved in providing for their children need to do whatever is required to meet the children's needs. In the early years, it works best when one parent is able to be home. Being the one at home need not be a precarious, dependent position. Certainly it doesn't define one's inherent value as a person.

I understand the premise of equal rights and protections for everyone -- women, men, people of color, those of any economic class. I see it more as a call for individual rights; for everyone to have the right to find his/her own authentic call to joy and life and happiness. It's all about choice -- some women choose to have a full-time career, some choose to spend time at home with children instead. Many of us have the opportunity to spend a season of our lives in each pursuit.
I've been a single working Mom (with my child in school then), then a work-at-home Mom with one child in school and an infant at home, now I'm an at home, unschooling Mom. As it happens, I'm happiest at home with our kids. I don't feel diminished in any way by choosing to be at home with my kids. I'm not powerless because Gary earns the money. I don't feel that I'm giving Will, Andy & Dan the message that the only option for a woman is to stay home and care for the kids.

This brings me to the part of the article that really did offend me. Near the end of the article, the question was posed: What does it mean to raise a feminist kid?

Do I need to raise feminist boys? Is that the same as raising masculinist girls? Is that even possible? I'd much rather we helped our kids to embrace the ideal that every individual, regardless of sex, race or class, has a birthright to define oneself, free of titles that separate us from each other.

Is there really a feminist homeschooling movement? Wouldn't the kids be better served by a 'kid-ist' homeschooling movement?