Why we hardly ever get the paint out

Because they find it absolutely impossible to do anything half-way. Painting inevitably turns into paint-skating. This time I was able to confine it to the old shower-curtain. Of course a bath came immediatly afterwards.

I think this is pretty typical for free-range unschooled kids--the way they can't seem to do something just a little bit, but get completely immersed and absorbed and carry it through until they've exhausted all possiblities. I think it's cuz I hardly ever said, No you can't. You can't paint with your feet. Which is what led to the skating. It's one of the things that excites me but also frustrates me, because I need to find a way for them to go all out without wrecking the house.

I'd love to hear stories of what YOUR kids do. I bet they're very similar!

In which Mama Bear makes some phone calls

I've never felt very comfortable with Wyatt's optometrist. She is very 'nice' (in a fake, high-pitched, 'good booooy!!!' way) when the kids are 'good' and very mean when they are 'bad'. We've stayed with her though, because Wyatt did get used to her and he was always 'good' after he got used to her. But Wyatt wasn't 'good' on his last visit, and it was horrible, and we left with him crying and without having had his eyes checked. And I wasn't a good mama, I was upset with Wyatt for being so difficult. Sometimes there is such a gulf between what I know in my head is the way I want to be and how I act when real life throws a situation like this at me. I was even arguing with myself while I was in there, and the devil on my shoulder that wanted to look like a good mommy for the mean doctor won.

I don't know why this seemed so hard to do--but I procrastinated for a week, and then I had to talk myself into it by doing The Work. I've always been terrible at making phone calls. Especially ones that require me to stand up for myself rather than just take the ill-treatment of my children with a smile. So I called Wyatt's optometrist and cancelled his next appointment and said that we'd be going to a new optometrist. And today I looked in the yellow pages, picked one in the area of town closest to us, and called. I said something like this:

My son Wyatt is 5, and he has some sensory issues. He often needs a little extra time to get used to new people and places. We often felt rushed at his other doctor's, and I feel that he needs somebody that's more flexible and patient! Do you think this office would be a good fit for Wyatt?

We nailed it on the first call. The receptionist was extremely kind and understanding, made pleasant noises throughout this speech of mine, and said, at the end, "Yes! Dr. M likes to give a lot of time for each appointment, she's not rushed." So I said yay, that's awesome, and we made an appointment for a few weeks from now.

Hmm. I feel really glad that I've done this, and even glad that we had a very bad episode with his last doctor that sent me over the edge and forced me to do this. I talked to Wyatt about it a lot, and, short of me becoming an optometrist myself so that I could do his eye exams, this was our favourite solution. I think we may even stop in at the office so Wyatt can check it out before his apointment. I guess I realized that, hey, I'm a consumer here, I get to pick who we go to. We don't have to stay with a doc we don't like...we can change as many times as we want till we get somebody that works well with Wyatt. It's important. We've got the power. And a very important lesson for my kids too-- when it comes to doctors and other professionals, it is often very hard to stand up for yourself, but it is absolutely your right. Ask questions, rock the boat. Two things I'm not very good at, I like things to be SMOOOOOTH.

Have you even taught him anything?

This is part of an email I sent to the parents of one of my piano students. Last week I met the mom for the first time and she started questioning me about what her son had been learning. "Can he even play a song?" I talked to her quite a bit and I think she felt better afterwards. But, yeah, people, your kid is FOUR. He isn't going to be playing much yet. I feel like I'm walking this line between keeping the parents happy by trying to force the children to learn something tangible, and not outright killing the kids' love of music. Especially this boy--he's obviously got musical talent--but at age four, this doesn't necessarily translate into him wanting to read music and play what's written on the page. He just wants to jam. And I often let him jam, and join in with him on the uke. So I wrote this as his regular monthly piano update.

I believe kids learn best when the subject is self-directed and being enjoyed by the student. Music is something that Jack loves--you obviously know this, but it's obvious to me too. He has great ideas and is very creative. Because of this, I am even more hands-off with him because it is so important to me that he keep his love and interest in music intact. He is very self-directed. I don't want to push him to learn what isn't the right thing for him at the time, which could turn him off music lessons for a long time. Because of that I wouldn't want to make him practice at home, just let him explore and play as much as he wants, even if it doesn't sound like he's playing an actual song. If he keeps doing it, he's learning and progressing--if he wasn't, it would be boring for him and he'd stop. I brought a 1/2 size violin for the kids to try out yesterday. Jack really liked it and got into it right away. It's so important for them to explore a lot of instuments, even if they don't pursue them beyond that. When I was in college piano was my major but I also played violin and cello--and playing those instruments greatly changed the way I played the piano. I have introduced reading music (not on the staff yet, but soon) to Jack and he understands it and can play songs from the book (he's in Book 2 of Music for Little Mozarts) independently. This is less fun for him than making up his own songs though--but we do work in the book each lesson and he learns musical terms, how to find the correct notes on the piano, how to read a rhythm, etc. But when he is creatively making up his own songs, this is probably when the best learning takes place. Please let me know if you have any questions or concerns--I know I'm probably unusual as a music teacher, but teaching really young kids takes something very different than with the older ones. Let me know if you want to discuss anything!

I decided I might as well just be honest. If they don't like it, he doesn't have to keep taking the lessons. And he would still be a musician--I'm not kidding myself that I made him this way.

Looking Back, in response to Stella

A few days ago, one of my favourite ever bloggers, Stella, posted this about life with her newborn. It hit me like a ton of bricks, sent me reeling back to seven years ago when Fiona was new, and cried so much that I wanted to stab the exercise ball with a paring knife, and drive head-long into cars that weren't moving fast enough, and throw bowls of peaches that hubby had sliced for me into the wall. And lots of other things. I did throw the peaches, I broke several dishes that way. I also turned a regular knife into a serrated knife by banging it repeatedly against the sink. I couldn't handle her misery. I couldn't handle not being able to fix her problem, and it was horrible.

I was diagnosed with postpartum depression when I finally told all this to my accupunturist who sent me immediatly to my family doctor. I wasn't depressed--I was anxious and angry. I was given some anxiety meds and took them when I was about to lose it. But that was just a band-aid. I still don't know if I actually had PPD, or if it was just a horrible combination of very fussy, sensitive baby, sensitive and young and untested mom, and not enough support. I say untested because until this time, mostly everything I'd ever done came fairly easy to me. I was usually pretty good at stuff. I'd never been in a situation I couldn't fix or walk away from.

When Fiona was happy and I'd had a decent sleep and enough support, I was great. I was 100% fine. I loved being with her, looking after her, taking her places. But when she screamed and I couldn't stop it, and she wouldn't nurse, and she wouldn't sleep, I wanted to run out the door. It was absolutely overwhelming. If it weren't for Richard--constant, calm, strong, always strong, I don't know what I would have done. I know I was on the edge of a nervous breakdown with him there, so I suppose I'd have gone over the edge without him.

Two retrospective thoughts:
1. I needed more support the post-partum stage. I think there is not nearly enough support for new moms, especially when there's a fussy baby. Having a supportive father around is crucial. But it's still not enough, because he may be experiencing many of the same feelings the mom is. He's new to this too, he's bonding and getting to know his baby too. I know, KNOW that if I was living in a community with many other mothers or grandmothers around throughout the day, everyday, it would have been much better. I felt really alone. I have to mention that I had friends with young babies, and we got together often. I had a surrogate grandma living down the street who cooked and babysat for us occasionally, and my mom helped as much as she could too. But I needed more.

2. Adjusting from non-parenthood to parenthood is huge. It's a huge, huge adjustment and I didn't know that. I thought it would be smooth and fairly simple. For an HSP with an HSC, it's an even harder transition.

When Wyatt was born, I went through a watered-down version of the same thing. He was a calmer baby, I had more self-awareness and a lot more experience. But it was a still really, really hard, and it was still a difficult transition. It was (and was for years) hard for him to fall asleep, and stay asleep. I still wanted to run away sometimes. I broke fewer dishes, but I still broke them. Sometimes I hid in the closet. Sometimes I was rougher than I needed to be, on purpose.

I was desperate to hear from other moms who were going through the same thing. I wanted to write a book, a compilation of the real stories of motherhood. I journaled and screamed on paper. Sometimes I screamed out loud. But I didn't often let anyone besides Richard see or hear me at my worst, because I didn't know that they would be ok with that. I remember once calling a friend, and crying on the phone, and she was uncomfortable and didn't say much. I feel so sad for that me, crying on the phone. And nobody wanted to hear.

Listen. If you are a new mom, or an old mom, and you are losing it, I am here for you. I have been there, and I'm now grateful for that experience because I've no longer got myself up on a pedestal. It was the first nudge towards real self-awareness for me so of course it was worth everything. I think it was also the first step to the knowing that I couldn't just follow the rules and the books and crank out good little kids who turn into successful adults. I even found out that I didn't want good little kids!

What to do when you feel defensive

I picked up Byron Katie's Loving What Is again today...I love her. I always, always feel great after reading her. Such an attitude shifter!

Here is a quote I really liked:

If one of my sons said to me, "You're not a good mother, " I could honestly say, "You know, sweetheart, I can find that. I travel the world, I'm hardly ever physically there for you and my grandchildren. Thank you for bringing that to my attention.What do you suggest?" My sons and I have everything in common. They tell me what I may not have realized for myself. I look inside myself to see if they're right, and so far they always have been . It's simply a matter of going deep enough into the truth to find it. I can go outside and attack them and their ideas about me in the attempt to change their minds and keep my lack of awareness or I can go inside and search for new truth that will set me free. This is why I say that all war belongs on paper. Inquiry takes me to the answers inside. And when my children tell me, "You're a wonderful mother," I can go in and find that, too. I don't have to go out to them and say, "Oh thank you, thank you, thank you," and live my life proving it. I can just go in and find, "I'm a wonderful mother. " And then I don't have to diffuse it by doing all that thank-you stuff. I can sit with both my sons, wordlessly, with tears of joy just streaming down our cheeks. Love is so big that you can die in it--die of self and be fully consumed in it. It's what you are, and it will have all of you back to itself again. So simple. My sons are always right. My daughter is always right. My friendsd are always right. And I get to realize it or suffer. All of it. I am everything they say I am. And anything I feel I need to defend keeps me from full realization.

I'm going to add some of my thoughts here. I think that, taken out of context, this quote can be misunderstood.

Sometimes, when I talk about homeschooling with people, I start feeling defensive. They think homeschooling is BAD for the kids. I start thinking that I need to prove them wrong, and I start arguing. I have 1000 reasons why homeschooling is good for the kids. But when I've been able to stop that, look inside, and find a way to agree, I can say, 'You know, I can see a way that you are right. It would be easier for the kids to learn French if they were in school. That's one of the things that makes homeschooling a challenge, and something I think about a lot.' We might have a discussion. The other person backs off, because they know I'm being honest. We might have a really great, connected conversation and may even talk about the challenges of homeschooling in a meaningful way. Probably by the end of it the anti-homeshcooler can see some positive stuff about it.

Doing this creates connection. It expands you both. It doesn't mean you agree with everything the other person thinks. It's being really honest. There's nothing wimpy about this. It's about expanding, and growing and connecting. It takes more courage and strength to go inside and see ALL of it, than it does to get mad and stick to your 'right' idea. I've never felt more powerful, peaceful and true to myself than when I've been questioning my thoughts in this way regularly.

Chicken Farmer

A few months ago when we visited Richard's mom in the hospital, we met this hilarious lady who was the roomate. She obviously was experiencing a mental illnes of some kind, but we enjoyed her. She kept asking Richard--

"Are you a chicken farmer?"

She talked non-stop about the land she owned (including the hospital and the surrounding park) and asked us if we wanted to buy part of it from her. She needed to know today. Did we want to get in on it? It was very valuable property. She was going to raise a herd of goats. "How many goats are in a herd? I've heard that it's 20. Do you think 20 is the right number for a herd? " And then, she would always get back to "Are you a chicken farmer?" She was very taken with Richard and told the nurse that when she and Richard were young, they used to play together. (She must have been at least 70.)

So guess what Richard's been working on in his spare time? A chicken coop of course. We are getting it ready for our 'herd' of chickens in the spring. There is talk of raising a calf for meat but we're getting the chickens for sure in the Spring. A picture-filled book entitled "Raising Pet Chickens" has made for some good bedtime reading and the kids have decided that they want Buff Orgpington chickens. I don't have a picture of one but of you can imagine Furball as a chicken and you have it exactly.

I don't think we'll start with Buff Orpingtons though, probably an easy, reliable cross-breed. We might want to eat the birds too, not just their eggs...provided we don't get too attached, which I'm sure would happen with a beautiful Orpington. Here is our chicken coop...it used to be known as the Moon House but is now being fitted up to be a very lovely, insulated coop with pine boards on the inside walls. Today Wyatt and Maia were playing in the pen, and crawling up the little chicken ramp to the inside part.

It's Thanksgiving weekend, but it doesn't feel like it. The best part of Thanksgiving was always the sisters arriving from Toronto. But now Heidi and Richard live 2 doors own from me, and I see them every day and I'm bored of them. And Leah isn't coming. Oh well, at least there is pumpkin pie. A lot of pie. I need to go make them now.

Happy Thanksgiving!