That was then, this is now

I've been thinking a lot lately about the way I parent. I'm a big fan of Faber and Mazlish mainly because, when I read this book for the first time, I was struck by how much of it I was already doing instinctively, yet there was still a lot to learn about parenting in a positive way. I think I occasionaly approach TCS (Taking Children Seriously) but it's mostly a combination of relaxed parenting and my own particular spin of respect and compassion. With a dollop of Cesar Millan too:-) It works for dogs, but it also seems to work for children, especially when I remember to do the exercise part. I can't manage the four-hour hikes that Cesar does every morning, but we get fresh air and pack migration as often as possible. I digress.
What I was mostly thinking is that doing it this way demands a lot of energy and effort from me. And a lot of tolerance, patience, compassion, thought and negotiation. I should apply for a job a the UN. It'd be a breeze. The other day I had picked up a big bag of bird seed from the garden centre and the girls and I went through a whole long rigmarole of which child gets to sit where in the car. Although I was quite pleased at how I handled it and got the girls to agree on a workable solution, part of me was screaming ' Why shouldn't I just do it the way my parents did it?' You probably know what I mean. It would have been a case of 'Right! You sit there and you sit there. And shut up!' Never did me any harm, I thought to myself. Then I gave myself a chance to reflect on that thought. Actually it did do a lot of harm. It set my brother and me against each other. While our parents were around we were nominally obedient. Out of sight of my parents he was quite sadistic towards me. I can see now how obvious it is that that would happen. If you repress children and give them no say in their life then they are going to react against it in the only way they know how, which is to repress someone else in their turn. I truly believe that is how bullying happens in schools too. This kind of parenting also allows children no way of learning how to be anything but dependant and helpless and that sets up endless internal conflicts on reaching adulthood. My kids are lively and noisy and bolshy, but I'm almost certain that they are not mean or spiteful or sneaky with each other because they don't have to be. They get to work out how things should be in front of me. And I hope they realise that all feelings are acceptable, but that some actions aren't. And that it is possible to work things out in a way that respects everyone's needs as far as is workable.

A Grand Day Out

It's been a lovely day. It started with dental appointments for all the kids with glowing reports about their teeth, even Big Brother who is notoriously bad at brushing but has been remembering and doing it well lately, then off to Durham for a Breastfeeding Picnic to raise awareness about the disparity between Scottish law and the rest of the UK. Morgan puts it so much better than I could here:There were about 20 mums there and it was so nice to be in the majority for a change. Being a 'long term' breastfeeder can be a bit of a lonely old life at times, but there I was surrounded by other breastfeeding mums all enjoying the sunshine and having a good time. I met a wonderful young man called Daniel who sat happily on my lap and smiled up at me for ages. I also got distracted by the cute student eye-candy on my long walk back from the toilets in the cathedral:-) Then after the picnic it was off to a cafe bar to spend a great afternoon of adult chat with a Ma/Phd student discussing bed-sharing. The hours whizzed by and I think we covered every possible topic relating to attachment parenting. A whole day surrounded by like-minded people. Priceless.

Doing different

Whilst watching a tv programme on unassisted birth, (Extraordinary People: Outlaw births) I started to think about the parallels between unassisted birth and unschooling. I know I was supposed to be thinking 'Oh look at those strange people, putting themselves and their babies at risk by turning their back on the medical profession' but being fairly literate media-wise, and having taken part in a similar documentary ('Honey I suckle the kids'. That title sucks. Literally) I ignored the obvious bias and just watched the mothers talking and followed their stories.

Like unschoolers, or autonomous home educators, these mothers were following their own instincts, trusting their bodies and their babies and arming themselves with enough knowledge to cope with most eventualities. The process would probably scare the pants off most people (in the case of unassisted birth and unschooling) but the results spoke for themselves. You only had to look at the faces of the mothers and the body language of the newborns to see that both had come through an incredible experience. In one case the mother was in labour for only two hours and was exceptionally quiet throughout.

I suppose that for birth there is a kind of half way house, that is a midwife attending a home birth, which we did three times as a family, but I just couldn't think of an equivalent in terms of education. You either have the hospital birth/ send your child to school or the unassisted birth at home/ home education. There is nothing in between, no 'midwife' attending to help you through if anything 'goes wrong'. However the more I thought about it, I realised that the comparison doesn't work, for this part at least. We the parents are the midwives of home education. We are the ones with the expertise. We know our children and we make sure that each child gets exactly what he or she needs from the experience.

It is also quite a private experience, in both cases. No one really sees us 'educating' our children. We go out and mix with all kinds of people, but there is really no one else in our house (or walking round with us ) examining what we do, checking our pulse or our blood pressure, telling us when to push or not (I'm getting into the medical analogy now). Occasionally someone makes an attempt to tick their boxes by ensuring that we are indeed in labour/ educating our children otherwise than by attendance at school, but for the most part we are left to get on with it without interference.

I guess alot of people would see either stance as being quite arrogant or foolhardy. Who are we to question the received wisdom of birthing in hospital or sending our children at school? Who do we think we are, believing that tried and tested methods of birthing or schooling don't apply to us and our children? After all a lot of teachers/midwives spent ages in training and a lot of educatonal theorists/obstetricians spent years honing their skills so that teachers/ midwives could be taught exactly what works in a classroom setting/ hospital birth. There, though, is the rub. These methods may well 'work' in schools and hospitals, but things are different at home. The methodology is different. And what we do works for us.

There is also no predictable way to do it. Each birth/ child is different, and no one can predict how it will turn out. I suppose it comes down to a deep conviction that what you are doing is right for your child(ren) and your family, and the only way we can tell that we're doing the 'right' thing is by the way it feels. For the most part, with us, it feels just fine. There are a few pangs along the way, a few false starts, a few shifts of position, the odd scary moment and, as in labour, I do get to the point when I feel I can't take it any more. That of course is a very important moment in childbirth/ home education, because you know you're about to see the fruits of your labour.

Sorting it all out

Anyone who has known me for any length of time is probably familiar with my 'tidy-enough-house' dilemma. I like to be spontaneous when it comes to the kids' learning but the irony is that one can only be truly spontaneous when one has a rough idea of where things are, and that takes time and effort.  I've also noticed how my mood improves when the house is relatively tidy, and how muddled I feel when the house is in a more chaotic state. However, I just don't like housework. Perhaps I feel it's beneath me, or maybe it's just a hangover from my childhood when I had to follow someone else's agenda and timetable. I had a bit of an epic struggle this week with a small but very significant part of the house. I call it 'my area' (maybe I should change that to 'my space'!), and it's about six foot square with large windows looking out onto a lovely bit of the garden where the bird feeders are. Since we moved here two and a half years ago, it has gone through a few metamorphoses ranging from general dumping ground to depository for other people's stuff to 'this bit belongs to me - see? I've even got a storage unit (erected by me) to prove it'!!!

I had an external deadline to work to as we were having a new phone line put in and I just had to get it tidied, but when faced with the prospect of getting down to it I went into a kind of meltdown. It seemed to me to be the embodiment of a problem that's been getting worse and worse lately. I try to get things sorted, but when faced with what seems an uphill struggle I panic and freeze and feel totally overwhelmed by the task. I've been trying to sort the playroom (ie tidy, find a place for everything, throw away stuff we no longer need or use, gather stuff from around the house and put it where it should be) for the last 18 months. It just feels like such a mammoth task, and every time I get it sorted to a certain extent, life intervenes, I turn my back and it's all back to square one. I feel like Sisyphus some days.

 Well, with some emotional help from Gary I calmed down enough to make a start, but not before I'd retreated under my duvet to try and steady myself. I got stuck into it and the strange thing is that once I'd started to make a difference to all the piles, I actually began to enjoy it. It felt like a fog was lifting. Having the deadline both helped and hindered. It meant that I absolutely had to get it done, but it definitely contributed to the anxiety attack as well.

I never really know how to organise myself as there seems to be so much going on at once that it's hard to see what really needs doing and what can be left for a while. I did take on board something I read recently in a book called 'Undoing Depression' by Richard O'Connor. In it he talks about the difference between things being 'urgent' and 'important'. Too often we are governed by the tyranny of urgent tasks because they are in your face and demand your attention right now, but there are also important things, things that could really make a difference to your life, and even lessen the number of urgent tasks, but these important things keep getting pushed to the back of the queue by urgent tasks. I took from this that sometimes you have to risk the anxiety of ignoring the urgent tasks and actively decide to tackle the important ones. Like 'my area'. It's going to make a real difference now that I have a space to retreat to with a lot of my stuff around me, especially now that I have found homes for a lot of it.

Evne though I hate hearing myself saying 'Not now, darling' or 'Can't you see I'm busy?' I may just have to weather that for a while until I feel I have achieved more of the really important things in our life. Either that or take a leaf out of one home edding mother of six's book, whom I read about some years ago. She would get up at 4am apparently, so that she could get all the housework done before the kids got up, then she could devote her entire day to the kids learning. I certainly admire her, but I know for a fact I don't have that amount of stamina.