Un-Parenting Part II

(Part of my tribe)


Okay, so this has become a serious rant, but I'm frustrated and you don't have to read, so I'm going to continue...



I have felt like the world's worst mom recently because things seem to happen to my children when I'm not around. They get hurt at school, they learn I word I know I've never used, they catch a cold when no one in my family is sick.



I work in part because I like to and in part because necessity demands it. But I often feel like I'm the only one NOT educating my kids. They learn the alphabet at school, they learn their bible verses at church and they learn colorful words overhearing the television. What do I teach them? "NO!", "Don't touch the lamp", "You HAVE to at least try your veggies", "Buggers do NOT count as a vegetable".



I watch other mother's who are able to spend all day with their kids, pouring their knowledge into them. They seem so calm. I feel like a complete failure.



Then a funny thing happened on the way to outright depression. My dad said something intriguing. A saying that goes like this: "It takes a village to raise a child". Something about hearing that again made me think. Do some villages REALLY raise kids? Why yes, yes they do. Thanks to the almost all-knowing Google. I found an article (check Part I of this rant) about tribe in the rainforest that subscribes to that philosophy, like thousands of other tribes and cultures have for THOUSANDS of years.



In these cultures the entire village takes part in raising the children. Not good at harvesting wheat? The guy in the little hut down the river is, he can teach you. Sewing not your bag, no sweat, your neighbor's grandma will teach you how.



We are made for community and I have a great one where I live. In the past two weeks alone I think I've had four different sets of families watching one or the other of my boys while I take care of some catstrophe or another. I have felt so guilty about not only strapping someone else with my brood, but also the inability to take care of everything myself. While it's still never ideal, the knowledge that I have so many people I can trust with my family brings a peace that is hard to put into words. They are my tribe, and I hope I can be theirs.



Maybe I can teach someone to dance or sweet talk their way out of homework (what? it's a marketable skill). My husband can teach a kid to fish (or at least to cast and enjoy the river). From Amy my boys will learn how to laugh and find joy in almost anything. They'll learn how to be a friend. From Stephanie they might learn patience and calm (Please, Jesus). From my mom, they learn how to organize themselves and of course how to weasel a cookie or five. From the grandpa's they'll learn hard work and discipline. From Nana, faith and the ability to field lemons that are being pelted at you from every direction and make sweet lemonade. From Andrea, they'll learn compassion.



I hope they see this in John and me as well, but I don't want my kids to be just like me. I want my kids to be villagers. I want them to be part of a community. I want them to know when to ask for help. I want them to see that life does not have to be accomplished solo. I want them to see Jesus in everyone.



Thanks to everyone in my tribe. It's an honor to be doing life with you.

Un-parenting

I have decided that this country has done lost its mind when it comes to power-parenting and I am done with it.



Easy hair-trigger, let me explain:



I read this article

http://tribes.intodit.com/page/natural-parenting-and-the-wisdom-of-the-rainforest



About an anthropologist's studies of a tribe he lives with in the rainforest. It was fascinating...because it was so simple. I run my head into walls (at first figuratively, then as my day wears on, literally) every day trying to teach my kids proper behavior, manners, sense. It's like I am trying to teach them to be good kids. Sounds reasonable, right? Two problems with this the way I see it.



1) I am no longer a kid (as much as I like to pretend to be at times)

2) I don't want them to stay kids, I want them to become adults.



Oh, I know. "Don't rush it." "Let them be kids." I get that, but here's the thing. If I were to do absolutely nothing but observe my children for days, weeks, without intervening I bet they would still be kids. They are 3 and 4. I don't need to teach them to be children. They ARE children. I am currently trying to teach them to share, to play nice, to be sweet children. I am trying to teach them to be something I'm not. When I tell my son to share a toy with his brother, I do it 90% because I don't want to hear his brother whining and 10% because I want my son to learn to share. If I teach him to share for sharing's sake I've taught him nothing. My goal should instead be to show him the pleasure of making someone else happy by the act of sharing. Being forced to do something may create a habit but probably not a behavior.

What would happen if I took this tribe's advice and let my children learn by experience instead of trying to save them from every possible calamity and heartache. I'm not saying I plan to let my kid wield a machete and march off into the rainforrest, but I am doing nothing but chase my tail when it comes to reasoning with these boys. It DOES NOT work. Maybe it works for you (your parade will begin later) but I don't think my current methods of an adult teaching a child to be a better child are making any real impact other than frustrating the lot of us.



I think we make everything in parenting entirely too difficult. Children must be put to sleep like this, at this time. Don't give them too much of this, or that MIGHT happen. Socialize them just enough that they aren't jerks, but stay-at-home with them so they have access to you at all times. Spend at least 60 mins a day on flash cards or writing, 60 mins playing outside, only 30 in front of the TV and make sure it's educational, like Elmo singing about poo.



We stretch ourselves to within inches of our sanity and at the end of the day.....they are still children. Aren't we supposed to teach them to become adults? I don't know about you, but I don't typically sing about my poo. (I am noticing I blog about the subject an awful lot though) This doesn't mean I want my kids to be "adults" by age 9, but that's because they just won't be. I don't have to try, kids will stay kids until events in their lives demand they become adults. For some it happens too soon, for some it unfortunately never happens at all (ach..lindseylohan...choooo). I have to model being an adult so when the events happen, my kids know how to behave. I don't want them to need to make a snap decision about rescuing someone from a burning car and think, "my mom always taught me to share...is there anyone else around who might like a turn at saving that poor person?"

(Not) Sleeping Beauty

Well, I'm up so I might as well be productive. Okay, so maybe productive would be cleaning my house or folding the laundry that has my name on it, but it's 2am, so cut me some slack. I hear that's actually how Martha Stewart became Martha Stewart, she couldn't sleep at night so she got creative. I'm not Martha.

It's amazing the things you notice in the middle of the night when the rest of the world (or at least your house) is asleep

For example:

• My house is a mess. It's a mess during the day too, but I suppose I don't notice as much. I guess I could clean it while I'm up, but that borders on obsessive Martha, so I'll just be a lazy insomniac instead. Although, maybe it could get me my own show...something to think about..


• My 4-year-old talks in his sleep. Sounds like he's annoyed with someone. Can't really understand the words, but he doesn't seem happy. I hate that.


• My air conditioner is loud. I keep jumping out of my skin every time it turns on. Sounds like a bear waking up from hibernation...maybe that's what Wilson's talking to...


• My husband grunts in his sleep. Every time he moves, he grunts like it takes too much effort to move.


• My dog sleeps with his ears pointed straight up...he kinda looks like Yoda.


• Cereal is bad option for a midnight snack. Milk leaves an icky taste in your mouth and brushing would wake up the grunter.


• Looking up cures for insomnia online does not actually help insomnia, as one of the cures is NOT looking at a computer screen at night. I'm told it messes with your circadian rhythm or some such thing. Personally, I don't care much about rhythm when I'm trying to sleep.


• When you're not waking up due to panic attacks, it's actually kind of peaceful to be the only one awake. Makes me feel kind of powerful...or maybe it's voyeuristic..whatever, it's late.


• When sleep does finally come, it hits like a linebacker, hard and heavy.


• Lastly, it's probably not a brilliant idea to blog at 2am. I have a feeling I'm going to have blogger's remorse in the morning. It's sort of like drunk dialing but without the drunk...or the dialing...so maybe it's nothing like drunk dialing.

So, if you're ever up in the middle of the night, I would say check in with me to see if I'm up, but according to the experts you'd be dumb to get on the computer. So I guess, get your circadian grove on and go read a boring book. Or clean your house you Martha :)

God speed and goodnight.

Stop It

So there's this video I found on You Tube. It's a MadTV epidsode with the sublime Bob Newhart. Bob plays a wise therapist who has found the solution for every mental malady. Just watch





Brilliant, right? Just knock it off! Whatever it is stop it. What's my response and the response of just about everyone else who deals with anything...IT'S NOT THAT EASY! Or is it? What if you could just turn it off? Tonight I got anxious. I have had a really hard time getting to sleep, just when I get close, BOOM goes the dynamite.

So I got up and talked to John, at some point, I started to get pissed. I'm just so tired of this. I hate feeling trapped in my own head. I hate that this all happened so suddenly. The day I got help for depression is the one day in my life I think I would take back if I could. I got mad, and John noticed immediately that my voice changed. It got deeper and the fear dissapeared.

Maybe I need Bob's kind of therapy. The kind that's not nice, but blunt and real. The kind that reminds you that there are very few records of people dealing with this before the age of self-help and medication for everything. Sorry, probably not fair.

With any luck though, maybe I can just STOP IT.

Sunrise, Sunrise

I'm not sure how I ended up here today. My mouse just moved in the direction of this portal and somehow clicked the "New Post" button without my permission. Now that I'm here, I suppose I could just click back out and go about my day, but my fingers feel good on the keyboard so I'll stay a while.

If I've learned anything over the past year, it's that precious, precious little in life is actually certain. People can be deceiving, winds can change, and answers can disappear like puddles drying the sun. One moment they are deep and real, and then you return 10 minutes later to find bare ground again. You wonder if you imagined it all. I have spent a lot of time, too much really, trying to decide if I like the certain things in life or the wild wind. If I want to be like a palm tree and bend with each storm or just be a leaf and ride with it.

I don't have an answer, and I'm starting to get the sense that THAT is the point. I'm looking for answers where answers don't, or rather, don't NEED to exist. Scientists are always trying to find reasons that things do what they do. Why does the sun come up? Why is the sky blue? Why is dirt brown? I'm not against discovery in general, just the perpetual search for answers that ends up sucking the life right out of life. Instead of why does the sun come up, why not just stand there and let it hit your face and warm you to the core as it makes its progression across the sky? Why is dirt brown? Who cares, just don't eat it.

I know I sound jaded and, to some, a bit ignorant, but I've got too much trash in my mind to find space to give a hoot what anyone else thinks anymore. But what if the answer IS the question? I know, way to philosophical for a Friday, but go with me here. What if the wondering, the wandering, the questions, and finally the acceptance of the mystery, is actually the answer we look for?

I've been searching for answers to why I went from mostly normal (not enough time to get into what I actually think of the word "normal") to mostly neurotic in the space of a year. I have been trying to find out why, what happened, how can I fix it. Everything is so different, so scary, that I've wanted answers like a kid wants the lights on to make sure the shadows in his room are really only shadows. Meanwhile, I've forgotten to enjoy what hasn't changed. There is so little certainty out there I should have been clinging to the few things that have remained the same.

I know that as long as he physically can, my husband will come home every night. I know that no matter how old they get, my children will always be my babies. I know three women who will always pick up the phone when I call. I know as long as my legs work, I'll dance; as long as my mouth works, I'll share my opinion; and as long as my heart beats, I'll search for God. You can't find truth, you just know it's there when you're in its presence. Answers are elusive, and too many questions are waste of a good life. So face East during the sunrise, let the sun kiss your face and trust that there ARE answers, even if you never find them. The truth is found in the warmth--and of that I'm certain.