Craphead (aka Mommy)

We are not having another child. There is no doubt about that. There are many reasons I don’t want more kids, but sometimes it’s fun to think about what I would do differently and what I would do the same. 

I know that I would definitely use a midwife again. I would search for a good one and have a homebirth, no doubt about that. I would exercise more regularly during the pregnancy. I would eat as healthy as I could, especially to avoid insulin resistance (I am sure that I had insulin resistance when I was pregnant with Mo and that that has contributed to her chubbiness). I would skip all ultrasounds. I would get regular massages and adjustments. 

I would do the Vitamin K, but orally as we did with Moira. My objection is more to the shot than the use of Vitamin K. I would definitely not vaccinate, but we would do the newborn screening test as we did with both kids. I would breastfeed for sure and would definitely co-sleep (unless for some reason the baby didn’t like that). I would learn to use different baby carriers and use them more often, I think. I would definitely use cloth diapers again, but I would splurge and get some all-in-ones or something. In fact, I’d have some research to do because there are so many more options than there were when Chico Habib was born.

I think the biggest thing I would do is make sure I have way more help after the baby arrives. I would welcome help of any sort. I would also want some quiet. I might want visitors, but it would be limited for a couple of weeks. I would also want quiet bonding time for the family. I would also not try to jump right back into everything. I would enjoy my babymoon, darnit! I don’t feel like I did that with either baby for different reasons. With Chico Habib I didn’t enjoy it because we had such a rough time with the breastfeeding and I felt like such a failure and it was a horrible time. Plus, he was never big on the whole sleeping and napping business, so it was hard to enjoy a babymoon. With Mo, it was the darn afterpains that made it hard to enjoy my babymoon. Also, tandem nursing was hard. Very hard. I don’t regret doing it, but also would not want to do it again. 

Anyway, it’s hard to give advice to people, which is why I wrote this as a "What if" sort of post. Not everyone is interested in homebirth, which is fine. I do think people should explore their options, choose their care providers carefully, and think about the kind of birth experience they want. Having a healthy baby is important, but having a positive birth experience is also important. So many women are taken advantage of, threatened, and scared while they are at the hospital. This is NOT right and I think that if women have educated themselves, they are less likely to be taken advantage of.

I do think that everyone should give breastfeeding a try, and, most importantly, make sure they have a support system for breastfeeding BEFORE the baby arrives. I think that people should respond to the cries of their babies and should keep them close. I think that people should educate themselves about vaccines. I think that circumcision should be outlawed unless medically necessary. Of all the decisions we’ve made, keeping Chico Habib intact was one of the best. It wasn’t really a decision so much as a thought that it was HIS body and his choice. I think that women should have a babymoon and be able to enjoy it. I think families should pitch in and treat the new mom like a queen and take care of her. And that women should let people do this for them. I so wish I had! 

So I had a couple of good days. I felt happy and good and pretty energetic. I was productive around the house and a little playful with the kids. Then last night I couldn’t sleep. I was hungry. It was that premenstrual hunger I sometimes get. My mind was racing and I was hungry. My book is also very good, so that doesn’t help. I tried to ignore the hunger, but it would not go away so I had to eat something. Then by the time I go downstairs, fix a snack, check my computer, eat a little more because I’m still hungry, go back upstairs and pee, I’m wide awake. So I read my book some more. I could have read longer, but I knew it was getting late, so I stopped reading. Sleep still did not come easily, but finally it did come.

The burst of energy was premenstrual as well. I like that kind of PMS better than the other kinds. But somehow it didn’t last. Aunt Flo teased me for a couple of days. I had some spotting, but nothing (except the energy and hunger). Then today she made a grand entrance. I have cramps and I feel crappy. But I felt good this morning, even if I was tired. We ate eggs and jelly toast and jasmine green tea. We watched a movie. I played with the kids. Chico Habib was upset because I have been busily cleaning the house and the porches for his birthday party on Sunday. He’s conflicted. On the one hand, he is excited about his party and presents, but on the other hand he is upset that I am spending so much time cleaning (and not being with him). Of course, I think this is made worse when I have been very withdrawn lately. 

Anyway, I didn’t feel like cooking dinner because I was tired. I felt fine, though. Just tired. Krimboor and I talked about what do do about dinner. We have no quick to fix food. Apparently no one else wants to cook, either. Krimboor looks in the big freezer in the garage and then mentions the lasagna that is in there. I think he asked about the freezer burned lasagna, in fact. I asked if it was really freezer burned and he said he didn’t know. Then he said it’s been in there for months. I said it’s been in there since May 20. I remember making that lasagna. I remember it very well because I made it the day my niece passed away. It was made with love for a grieving family. It ended up in the freezer because lasagna is an easy meal to make and others brought lasagna to them also. I figured mine could wait. The kids wanted lasagna. I don’t know if my sister-in-law wants a lasagna that’s been in the freezer for four months, but still it feels wrong to eat it. I don’t think the kids understood. I don’t think Krimboor understands. 

So Krimboor goes to town (the little town that has very few options) to get frozen pizzas. I ate hot dogs because of the whole gluten-free thing. Then we had dessert. Then the night went to shit. I tried to keep things together, but in the end I know I’m the one who lost it and made it crappy. Krimboor made the pizzas and served the kids. He emptied the dishwasher. Hubby played with the kids a bit and helped get them water or something. We were going to play a board game but the kids played for about 2 minutes and then went outside. I went out and they were playing in the creek. I figured I could go down to the end of the lane and mow while they played in the creek down that way. Krimboor comes in the house and sees me getting my shoes on and says I’m going to need his galoshes. FUCK. It’s muddy. I had forgotten. It’s a bad idea. I was going to walk down to the road (Chico Habib drove the mower with Mo in the trailer), but then Krimboor was making some comment about how I do whatever a 7 year old and a 4 year old want me to do. Hubby was in the house playing with his damn phone. Now I’m mad at Krimboor for his snide comment (and the fact that he was eating dessert but then asking the kids if they ate enough dinner when he knew how much they had eaten and knows we don’t exactly do that in our house and it was that patronizing tone that adults pretty much only use on kids, but would NEVER use on another adult). I’m mad at Hubby for being more connected to his phone than his family. So I come inside and pick a fight with him. He storms upstairs. FUCK FUCK FUCK. Now I’m mad and the guys are both mad and I fucked it all up.

I’m stressed because the downstairs has gotten messy because the kids got stuff out. Well, that’s not exactly right. I’m stressed because I know that if I don’t cajole everyone into helping pick up the downstairs that I will be picking it up tomorrow. I’m tired and I don’t want to do this. I don’t like seeing my hard work go unappreciated and undone so quickly. I felt stupid for thinking of mowing when I know it is too muddy to get the damn mower to the end of the lane. Of course it gets stuck. Krimboor’s boots don’t fit over my fat calves. He says he is sinking in pretty good, so I know that I will sink. If I get stuck, that’s worse than the mower getting stuck. Fuck it all. Now I give up. I can’t clean this house for the party all by myself. I can’t do it all by myself. I just can’t.

So I give up and sit in front of my computer. They get the mower out and everyone comes back to the house. Chico Habib wants my computer, my water, me. But he’s all muddy and I’m all upset. So I give him my computer and my water but not myself. Instead I picked up a bit and then sat in a chair near him. He seemed fairly happy, chattering to himself the whole time. Mo was drawing letters for Krimboor. The kitten was finally playing with the cat toy Krimboor brought home from the thrift store. I should be happy. Instead, I just sit in the chair feeling nothing. Krimboor goes home. Hubby gets the kids to play the game. They have fun and ask me to come play but I don’t. I don’t want to. I don’t want to do anything except go back to the two normal days I had. 

I know this is jumbled. I know the story makes no sense. I suck at telling stories anyway. The point is, I was fine and now I’m not. And I can’t explain it. Except that maybe it was the lasagna. And I’m worried about my brother, which seems totally out of the blue, but it’s not. His group just moved to a different area in Afghanistan. There have been several people injured since they moved. How could I not be worried? I dream about Hubby’s dad a lot, too. I’m learning Spanish and I keep dreaming that he is sitting in a house (his house, our house, the location varies) and I ask him something in Spanish. Then I wake up and realize that I will never get to practice my Spanish with him and that we will never see him again. And then there’s the lasagna. How is it that a lasagna can set things on such a different course? I knew it was in there. I was just thinking about it last night and it made me smile because even if it doesn’t taste good, it was made with love. Even if they don’t want it, I can’t bare to eat it or let anyone else eat it or throw it out. I know it’s just a lasagna, but it’s also so much more. It’s a memory of a horrible day. It’s a memory of a little baby that should be here and isn’t. I miss her. I miss my father-in-law. Grief sucks and it sucks even more when it sneaks up on you. 

I need to make a few comments before diving into this post. First, I realize that my blog has been quite depressing lately. I’m not really apologizing because this is my blog and I have to be honest for myself. The only thing I could apologize for is not writing when I feel better or normal. However, since I have no idea who is reading this blog or when, I don’t feel that I have much of an audience. But, if you regularly read my infrequent posts, then I thank you. I will try to write when I am happy as well as when I am not. Second, I started writing this as a note for Facebook, but then I realized there’s way more to it than a funny anecdote. It’s about social class, schooling, and a bunch of other things. And while I’d like to make it a totally intellectual type of post, I do not have the brain power for that. So maybe others will comment and add their take. And if you feel that my choice of wording is not appropriate, you should say that, too. 

So yesterday we went to a park in Quincy, Illinois. It’s near a school that I would guess is a private or a charter school. The neighborhood is definitely middle to upper class. The moms were mostly dressed nicely. One wore a skirt and a white blouse, another wore nice jeans with a blouse. The kids all had khaki pants/shorts and polo shirts with the school logo on it. They call came to the park after school. I felt a bit rednecked because Chico Habib was wearing gray athletic shorts with an orange stain from silly putty. His shirt was a white t-shirt with some drag racing thing on it. That shirt has been chewed and sucked on so that it looks faded and kind of gross. He was also wearing his knee-high boots, which are actually for girls, but aren’t all that girly looking. Mo looks cute, but her clothes are a bit too small. Her belly is hanging out and she is sporting a plumber butt. To be fair,she has been sporting the plumber butt crack look since she was a toddler. It’s something about the way girls pants are cut, too short waisted or something. I’m not sure what it is, but the girl has a butt and most pants do not seem to be cut for her figure. Now, if she were 20something she’d be fashionable. But at this park, we looked out of place.

Now, I say all this mostly as an observation. I do not in any way feel bad. I love my kids. I love their style. I love that they pick out their own clothes and they don’t always match. I love that they play without worrying about getting their clothes dirty. I love that they are both comfortable in their bodies. They lack that self-consciousness that seems to start so young, especially for girls. I have no problem with a little butt crack showing. I do, however, have a problem with other kids being so intolerant. At least two kids said something to Mo about pulling her pants up, or telling her that her butt was showing. This is a girl that is chubby but is not self-conscious in the least. She feels comfortable in her skin and in her body. She felt comfortable in her clothes, until someone else made her feel uncomfortable. 

What I don’t understand is how other kids can be so intolerant. These kids were elementary school aged. They already seemed to think that clothes are important. They seem to already be judging the book by its cover, so to speak. They seem to think it is perfectly OK to comment on a the body of a little girl. I’ve had this happen with my 11 year old nephew, too. I thought that maybe 11 year old boys are somehow more acutely aware of social norms or something. But now I’m not so sure. Now, to be fair, not all the kids were like this. There was one girl who played with Mo and didn’t seem to bat an eye at the belly and buttcrack. My nieces sometimes ask about our unusual habits, such at the kids not wearing shoes or underwear. But they do it in a way that is just curious because we do things differently. I never catch any hint of judgment behind their questions or behind my sister-in-laws answers. 

I realize my choice of words may be troublesome. I’m not sure. Is redneck offensive? I know it can be, but it seems that as with many labels, it has been used by the group it is applied to. It has been taken and changed to have an almost positive meaning. I think. I’m not sure. I’m not sure what it means exactly. A friend posted on facebook that she had gone to a redneck birthday party. I wasn’t sure what that meant. I didn’t ask, even though I should have. Are we rednecks because we live in the country? Because even though we have a minivan it is alway dirty? (There is NO SUCH THING as a clean car when you live in the country. You drive over gravel and through mud. It’s not possible to keep our cars clean). Are we rednecks because my kids are mostly barefoot at the park? Are we rednecks because our clothes aren’t "nice?" Because Chico Habib has a buzz cut and is wearing boots? Because his knee is skinned up? Because Mo’s hair is messy (Damn if we can keep it looking neat anyway!)?

So if you have an education and you have money, do you have to do things to prove that? Do we need to wear nice clothes all the time just because we can afford it? Do my kids need to wear nice, clean shoes just because? Should they have nicer haircuts? I don’t think so. I think they are fine and we are fine. I think it’s the rest of the world (though not everyone) that is so hung up on appearances. It seems to me that a lot of people live beyond their means just so they can appear to be more than they are. What is wrong with being a farmer or working class? I grew up in a working class family. My parents worked hard. My dad worked a job that he hated for many, many years. My mom worked jobs with flexible hours or worked third shift so that she could still take care of us, go to school events, etc. There is nothing wrong with that. It’s just weird to me. It’s weird to me that kids can be so judgmental at such an early age. It’s weird that clothes and style are so important, even to elementary school children. It’s weird that girls learn to not like their bodies at such a young age.  

I don’t know who or what is to blame for this. Sometimes it’s the parents. Sometimes the parents are fussy and intolerant and they pass that attitude onto their children. Some kids are just naturally fussy. Some kids learn at school (are they learning from the kids who learned from their own fussy parents?). Some learn from the media. I have no idea. I just know that I am glad my kids are not in school. How long would it be before Mo came home crying because some kid told her she was fat and made fun of her? She was upset about the two comments at the park. I can only imagine how much worse school would be.  

I had a brief return to sanity while in Phoenix. I’m not sure what happened. Perhaps it was that we actually got to spend time with Hubby for the weekend. I think we all needed that. He has been working a lot. I feel that I can’t complain because he has an obligation, a contract, and a friendship at stake. He said the project is almost over and I am holding onto that thread of hope.

We got back from Phoenix a couple of weeks ago. I felt tired when we got back. I’m still waiting for my energy to return, but it’s not happening. I did have a couple of days of feeling fairly normal (again, after a day of being together as a family, a day where it was not just me and the kids for 10 hours or so). Now, the darkness is back. I feel crappy, but not physically. OK, well sort of physically. I feel tired and worn out. It’s not really lack of sleep so much as it is that I need a break. I had a Mom’s Day Out in Phoenix. I had a Girls’ Night Out at home. It’s not enough.

I pretty much spend my days in front of the computer. I am withdrawn. I have withdrawn. I don’t want to sit on the couch and snuggle. I don’t want to watch TV. I want to be alone. It isn’t really the kids, it’s me. I just want to be alone. I am drained. Is that the same thing as depressed? I can hardly tell the difference. I’m not sure it matters. I just want to be alone.

I cannot meet the kid’s emotional needs. I am meeting their physical needs, which are fairly minor considering they are almost-7 and 4.5. They are fairly self-sufficient if they need to be. And if they aren’t, it’s not that big a deal to get them a bowl of cereal. Their physical needs are so unimportant compared to their emotional needs. They fight. Still. They don’t want to learn how to get along. They don’t want to use their words. They don’t want to talk about their feelings. They just want to fight. I hate it. It tears me apart inside and I feel hopeless. I am out of my depth. I no longer know my kids or what they want or need. I just want someone else to figure it out because I can’t/won’t/don’t want to. 

I am lost. I don’t know who I am or what I’m doing. I’m a mother. I’m a wife. That’s it, really. I don’t know what else to be. I guess I’m a chickenkeeper, but if you saw the coop and how lazy I am about the chickens, you’d laugh at that label. I have a garden, and if you saw it you would laugh. Or cry. I really don’t know. I gave up on the garden after we travelled to Puerto Rico and then to Phoenix. No one really wanted to help with the part that I don’t like to do. I WANT a garden. I WANT to be a homesteader. I WANT to be those things, but it’s not happening. I can’t do any of it. It’s too much and it’s too overwhelming.  

I feel like shit. I feel like a shitty person, a shitty wife, a shitty mother, a shitty daughter-in-law, daughter, gardener, homesteader. I am nothing. I do’nt know what’s wrong with me. Is it psychological? Is it my neurotransmitters? Is it my adrenals? Thyroid? Insulin? Something I ate or didn’t eat? Am I just tired the way mothers get because they are responsible for every little thing? Am I just an introvert who never gets time to herself? Am I just lazy? I just want someone to tell me. I’m so tired of trying to figure it out. I just want to be normal. I want to be happy and fun and carefree. I feel like I should be able to change my thoughts and bring myself out of this but I just can’t. 

I have two conversations going on in my head right now. One part of my brain is writing a blog post. I have plans today. I am committted to going to a friend’s house. Three weeks ago when we made these plans, I was so excited. Now I just want to go home. But I wasn’t really any happier at home.

Fuck. I already started this post and it was going well and then somehow my stupid hand hit something and the browser went back, back, back. Now it’s all gone. Should I start over? Cry? Fling myself on the bed?

We are in Phoenix. We are here to see friends and have fun. I will go because I am supposed to, because it is expected of me, because I feel compelled to go. And I don’t know what else to do.

I don’t want to be here. But "here" isn’t Phoenix or the hotel or the houses of our friends.

I will go. I will act normally. I know how to do that. I think that is one thing schools do. That’s what people mean when they talk about socialization. That’s why people object to homeschooling. Because homeschooled kids don’t always act "normal." They don’t go to school where their peers will bully them or make fun of them for every little thing. I went to school. I know how to act normal. I know how to talk the talk, even if I don’t walk the walk. I know how to talk the talk even if I don’t feel like it or want to.

I don’t want to go anywhere. I don’t want to do anything. I don’t want to be here.

I might interrupt more than I should, more than is socially acceptable. That comes from being constantly interrupted.

"Mommy," Moira says in a whiny voice. She is whiny and upset because Aidan locked her out of the bedroom area of the hotel room. The upsets are mutual, the upsets have a long history. Yet the upsets start out small and escalate. I don’t know what Moira wants. Or, I do, but I don’t have it in me. She wants to be heard and comforted. So I change the TV to something she will like to watch.

I am a horrible mother. I don’t want to mother.

Other than interrupting more often than I should, I think I do OK. I don’t mention Moira’s nursing or family beds to anyone unless I know they will be supportive. I don’t talk about vaccines or politics or religion with anyone. I don’t really talk about anything important to anyone because what is important to me doesn’t seem to matter to anyone else. How I feel doesn’t matter. I can force myself to smile and laugh and make others comfortable.

I don’t feel like smiling or laughing. I have no sense of humor. I don’t have fun and I don’t know how.

I think I do OK, but then after almost every social situation I analyze it in my head. I am definitely my worst critic. I see how things I said could have been misinterpreted and hurt someone’s feelings. I think about my tone of voice and how I sounded angry when I wasn’t, sounded confident when I wasn’t, sounded uncertain when I knew what I was talking about. I think about every stupid thing I’ve ever said, like the time I asked a realtor if the power company turns off power in the summer if people don’t pay their bills. She was worried we wouldn’t pay our bills. I was just thinking about how in Philadelphia, the power companies cannot turn off power in the middle of winter because people can DIE. Does it work like that here? Is Phoenix compassionate (even if that compassion is legally mandated)? That was what I wanted to know, but my comment was just stupid.

We drove by our old house yesterday. I don’t really feel sad. I don’t miss this place at all and I don’t want to move back. But I do feel SOMETHING. I feel so much sometimes that I can’t think, I can’t process, I can’t make decisions.

I just want to be left alone. Why doesn’t my brain work? What is wrong with me?

I think about a time at playgroup where one mom and I were talking about how smart our kids were. I said to another mom that it would be cool to see if her son were smart, too. What the fuck? I thought about that later and how it sounded and how I meant it. Partly I suppose I was being full of myself, but mostly it was that her little boy was younger. I didn’t mean it like THAT. But she never came around again. I saw her out in public once and she didn’t look at me or ackowledge me. Maybe she didn’t recognize me.

I’m sure she hates me.

I think about my brother-in-law who I adore. He is such a sweet, sensitive person. He is also quiet. If he doesn’t want to talk about something, he doesn’t talk. So that means mostly that he doesn’t talk about anything important. I think we are probably a lot alike, except that instead of being quiet, I talk. Too much. I chatted with him online and asked him how something went with his dad. I was concerned about him, but I suppose I was also being nosey. He stopped chatting. I feel like shit.

Sometimes I think he doesn’t even like me anyway. I would be devastated if he didn’t. But I wouldn’t blame him, either.

I think I should just talk less. If I can’t talk about important things, then why talk at all? I know that my brain works differently than a lot of people’s brains. It’s not that I’m smarter or anything like that. It’s just that I’m not normal. And I think I know how to act normal, but I really don’t. I just want to be myself, but I don’t know what that means anymore.

I don’t want to be me. I don’t want to be.

I think it might be nice to be a Stepford wife. To be happy doing menial chores around the house. To not expect anything in return, no appreciation, no help. I want to be able to do all the things I do with love, but the truth is that I don’t always. I do the menial stuff because it needs to be done. I have the most time. I care the most about what kind of food we eat, where it comes from. I care if the house is somewhat clean. I feel guitly when people can’t find things in the house, as if it is all my fault.

I am the worst feminist in the world. My ltitle girl wears pink and wears make-up. She is super girly. My boy is a boy. He is rough and tumble. She is empathetic and sensitive. He is nearly oblivious to the feelings of others. What does that have to do with anything? Nothing. Except I think of myself as a feminist, but I don’t even know what that means. I feel like my kids watch too much media and that is why Mo is into being girly, why they think calling names is normal. I waffle all the time. Too much TV or no limits? Loving electronics and yet feeling disconnected because of them. I still do not have any new friends in Illinois. I am not making any on the computer, and I know this but still I persist.

"Mommy, can you hit start? I can hit 3 and 2, but I just can’t hit 3 and 2," says Moira. I don’t know exactly what she means. I’m trying to figure it out and type what she is saying at the same time. Yelling ensues because I am busy typing what she is saying instead of getting up and taking care of her.

The kids don’t want me. They just want someone to wait on them. They probably hate me. I deserve it, so I wouldn’t be surprised.

Now she is eating leftover Taco Bell. We got the kids Taco Bell for dinner last night because that’s what they wanted and I was too tired to fight it. Too tired to just say no. I should say no more often. Or maybe less often.

I have no idea what I’m doing as a mother.

The kids fight. A lot. Every day they hurt each other. My reaction varies. Sometimes I am indifferent. Sometimes I am enraged. Sometimes I cry. Sometimes I do nothing. Sometimes I talk to them and try to help them work it out. Nothing seems to help or work. I’m sure they hate each other.

"Mommy, I’m really hungry," she says as she is rooting through the hotel fridge. I know there isn’t much in there. I say, "We will go get food soon." She says, "Mommy, can I spray whipped cream in my mouth?" I say sure because why not? It’s longer I can sit here and write and feel sorry for myself. So I take a few minutes to teach her how to spray the can into her mouth. 

What a great skill to learn! I am the best mother ever.

I hear her doing it wrong. I hear the air coming out, but no whipped cream. I yell at her for not doing it right.

I sound mean and horrible. I hate it. I hate myself.

The kids are hungry. We need to go. I still feel like crap, but at least I’m not trying to drive while I’m sobbing. I’m not lying on the bed sobbing and feeling sorry for myself. So I guess I am OK. I will seem OK, even though I am not. My friends will not know the difference. They might notice that I seem down or upset, but they will never guess the extent of it. I will never tell them or let on, either.

I don’t know what it means to have a best friend. I don’t have a best friend. I have friends, but I never call them to chat. I never call when something is wrong. I am the worst friends in the world and I don’t deserve to have any friends anyway. Why would they want to be around me? I find it hard to believe that some of them are rearranging their schedules just to see us. What’s wrong with them? Don’t they know me at all? If they did they wouldn’t do this for us.

Tom will know I was upset. I was already upset and crying last night when I picked him up from work. I cried on the way to Taco Bell and to the hotel. He asked if someone was mean to me at playgroup. I said yes and that is what started the tears. The person who was mean to me was my own son.

I have a breakdown and the kids go on as if life is normal. Mo asks me what is wrong a few times, but gives up after I fail to answer or explain. They act like this is normal because it is. I have mood swings. Sometimes I am hateful. I have hateful thoughts about myself in my head. I have these horrible thoughts and I almost don’t know what is in my head and what I have said out loud.

I am depressed. Why is it so hard to say it, to admit it, to OWN it? I don’t want to be depressed. I just want to be normal. Maybe I’m slightly bipolar. I felt great a week ago. Now, if I ceased to exist, that would be fine with me. I think the kids would be fine. In the deepest part of my mind, I think they would be better without me. The guys would be better without me. They both seem to love me. They do love me. They say so but I don’t believe them. I treat them like shit. I do not deserve them. I don’t know why they put up with me. Someday they will realize they would be happier without me.

The kids are yelling. Mo shared the whipped cream with Aidan, but now it’s gone. They are scrounging in the fridge. I said if they get dressed we will go. They didn’t hear, they didn’t listen. I don’t know which and I don’t care. They will do what they want to do anyway. It’s time to go before they hurt each other again. Thank God for the TV because now Aidan is in there and they aren’t fighting. It’s time to go.

I don’t want to go. I don’t want to be here. I don’t want to be me. I don’t want to be. I think I can fake it, but I don’t know if I can for much longer. If the kids fight at playgroup or someone asks what is wrong, I might not be able to fake it. I have to fake it. It’s time to go.

I just read the words "puddle jumping" on a website. No idea what it was about, but it triggered a great memory. 

I can’t remember exactly how old Chico Habib was, but he was a toddler. It was Halloween, but during the day. Chico Habib was wearing tennis shoes, which is unheard of these days. We were out with Krimboor as he was looking at a used truck. But it wasn’t the usual car dealership, it was some place that was mostly indoors and they had repossessed cars and trucks for sale. Anyway, we were outside and there was a puddle. A big puddle. Chico Habib jumped in the puddle and giggled. He did it again and again and again. It was one of those moments that was full of joy and wonder and discovery. Of course I "let" him do this. How could I stop him from doing something he so obviously enjoyed? I enjoyed watching him. It was a great moment.

On April 29, I had the pleasure of picking up my two nieces from school. Since my kids don’t go to school, this was quite a treat for me. It was nice to see their smiling faces when they came out the door and saw me. I was so happy to see them and to tell them that their mom was in the hospital, laboring with their baby sister. We brought the girls to our house and played some games, made some dinner. Dinner was later than I would have liked, considering that when we left the hospital after school, their mom was having good contractions fairly close together. We had just finished cooking dinner when we got the phone call. The girls were so, so excited. I hadn’t eaten so I wolfed down a brat and felt guilty about making them wait those 5 minutes (or less). You see, they were already in the car waiting. Once we got the phone call, they screamed with joy, jumped up and down, grabbed their shoes and ran to the car to go to the hospital. 

We arrived at the hospital and their dad came out to get them. We waited for a few minutes to give them some time together and then we went back to see our newest niece. I was also very excited. We have lived in Illinois now for a year and a half and are getting to know our nieces, but we weren’t here when they were little. So I was very excited to have a little niece to get to know and a baby to hold. I was so happy for my sister-in-law and her family because they were so excited and happy to have a baby.

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I remember my sister-in-law waffling about another baby. Sometimes she would tell me they wanted another one. Sometimes she would say she was happy to be done with diapers and those kinds of baby things. But in the end, they decided their family was not complete. My sister-in-law told me that she never said it made sense to have another baby. She just meant that it didn’t make sense to start over with the baby stuff when her other two girls are 6 and 7. But sometimes things just don’t make sense on a rational level, but they make perfect sense to your heart. 

And sometimes the universe just doesn’t make sense at all. Sometimes things are just so wrong, yet there is nothing you can do to change anything. The next time I picked up the girls at school was not such a happy occasion. Their mom was at the hospital with their little sister again. This time, the baby was not conscious. Something was wrong and the hospital was running tests. It was pretty serious, but the kids didn’t really understand how serious. I watched the four kids for hours. We had a great time that day, and yet it was one of the saddest days of my life. I say that, and yet I feel so selfish saying it because I know that whatever sadness I feel, my sister-in-law feels infinitely sadder. You see, that day her baby was air-lifted to a bigger hospital in a bigger city. Just before they air-lifted her, the local hospital did a CT scan and found blood in her brain. 

She died the next day at 21 days old. And this is a horrible sadness.

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It’s been two weeks since the funeral. I remember someone at the visitation telling me to think of the good that will come of this. Or something along those lines. It struck me as a wrong thing to say. It wasn’t comforting to me. I suppose it is to some people. Some people have faith and trust that there is a higher power and a purpose to all things, no matter how horribly sad those things are. I almost envy people their faith at times like this because it does seem to comfort them. 

Yet, even though I lack that faith, I can be comforted by small things. I can see that there is some good in this situation. It is a comfort to know that they chose to donate some parts of her body. Some other baby or child may be living because of their generosity. My sister-in-law and her family are being tested for clotting disorders, as it was a deficiency in a clotting factor that led to the brain hemorrhage. There are other good things, such as seeing family and friends come together to help out. At this moment, they have so many paper products they don’t know what to do with them. People have been bringing meals now for more than 2 weeks. Seeing how they are a part of this community, how a small town can band together to help out, has been wonderful. They have some wonderful friends and family. I’m sure they already knew that, but now they know it 100 times over. 

Seeing how strong a marriage is, how much love is there and how much they care about each other is a goodness beyond measure. So, there is good along with the horrible sadness. Today I feel the horrible sadness the most. But when my little boy can finally look at pictures of his lost little cousin without feeling too sad and my little girl comes over and asks why I’m so sad and gives me a hug, I know that some things in the world are still making sense. 

It sucks to be in your mid-30’s and to feel like your body is falling apart or failing you. In some ways, my body is better than every. You know, in those culturally sanctioned ways. I weight a lot less than I did when I first was pregnant with Chico Habib. I am in better shape in terms of blood pressure, heart rate, and blood sugar. However, I have some other health issues that make me feel like crap, such as:

 

• hypothyroid
• insulin resistance (which doesn’t seem as bad as it used to be, but is still there)
• estrogen dominance
• adrenal fatigue
• possible food allergies
• possibly Candida growth in my intestines
• stomach aches 

 

Some of these issues I am not sure about as the saliva test hasn’t come back yet (I was supposed to do it about 2 months ago but we were on a plane to Puerto Rico to say goodbye to my father-in-law). I have an appointment on April 12 and I will find out more about my adrenal and sex hormone levels. I’m already on thyroid medicine, but the doctor tells me that if your adrenals are not working well, the thyroid medicine will not be as effective. I was tested for food allergies, but the results were apparently way off. I showed absolutely no reaction to almost every food. I did show some IgG reactions to coffee beans, cranberry, red grapes, oysters, and sesame seeds. But the fact that I showed no reaction at all apparently means my immune system is totally out of whack. 

I alternate between energetic and exhausted. Sometimes it might be the food I eat, but sometimes I just think of food first. I used to do that when I was eating fewer carbohydrates due to the insulin resistance. If I ate something and felt sluggish, I figured it was too many carbohydrates. Sometimes that is the case, but sometimes there is no obvious reason for the exhaustion. Or no obvious reason other than being a stay-at-home-mom/cook/personal shopper/maid/really bad accountant/chicken keeper. I have no doubt that attachment parenting and unschooling, especially without an adequate support network, is part of the problem. And yet I felt this way in Phoenix, too, and I had a kick-ass support network out there. Part of it is just from being a mom. It’s hard, no matter if you stay-at-home, work-at-home, work outside the home. If you are doing the parenting gig right, no matter what your choices, it should be hard. Right? It should be rewarding, too, but some days it’s just freaking hard to get out of bed and take care of children all day long (and sometimes all night long).  

Anyway, I have some other thoughts about how my body got to be this way. I’ve been reading a lot of stuff about adrenal glands, healing the gut, sugar, insulin, serotonin, and how they are all related. If I work up the energy, I might write another post with some links. I can’t promise anything, though. If anyone reading this is really interested, you can leave a comment and I’ll e-mail you some links. 

In search of local friends. Preferably secular/relaxed/tolerant homeschoolers or unschoolers. Must believe that children are people and try to treat them accordingly. Attachment/connected/natural parenting a bonus, even if you don’t call it that. We respect all religions, but would prefer not to be told we are going to hell for our lack of beliefs and lack of membership in an organized religion. The kids like video games, playing outside, going to parks, getting dirty in the creek, being naked, running around, being loud, wrestling and tumbling, doing science experiments, puzzles, Legos, GI Joes, Barbies, trains, and dress-up. The grown-ups like movies, board games, video games, reading, gardening, computers, and homesteading. We live on a farm, so be prepared to encounter chickens, chicken poop, feathers, cats, mud, gravel dust, and bugs. 

 

 

I remember taking a class in graduate school, a seminar or some small class where we all sat around a table. I cannot remember what the class was for sure, but it seems like it was for the teaching assistants and it was a one credit class about how to teach. One assignment we had was to come up with a lesson plan for a class we might teach someday. We had to teach the class to our classmates. I was really into studying cyberculture at the time and my class was Cyberculture 101 or some such thing. I had this lesson plan and outline and it was really good. I think everyone enjoyed it, but I remember getting a comment that it seemed unorganized. It seemed like I didn’t know what I was going to do next. I recall getting that comment on some teacher evaluations, also. It’s interesting, because I usually am quite organized. My notes are organized. My thoughts are usually fairly well organized, but I do sometimes go on tangents because everything is related and I might think of different examples to use, depending on what happened recently. Anyway, the point is that despite knowing what I was doing, knowing what I was talking about, and having good, well-organized notes, I still appeared to be flying by the seat of my pants.  

Last week when my brother-in-law was visiting, I realized that my parenting looks like this to many people. Some people have figured out that I do actually know what I am doing. I think my mom gets it, but it took her a while. And at first I think she spent a lot of time biting her tongue. I know that my mother-in-law gets it because her view on children is very similar to mine. That is, we both believe that children are people. Most importantly, I think it took my husband a while to figure out what I was doing. It took a lot of conversations, and some yelling and fighting, for us to be on the same page. We don’t always do things the same way, but we at least have the same basic goals and values. I can’t say that I always know what I am doing (what mother does?), but I am very thoughtful about parenting, about my children’s feelings and their wants and needs. I read, I talk to people, I observe other parents and I mull it all over and figure out how things will work for us. I know my kids and I know what works for us and what doesn’t.

I know that my parenting requires a lot of thought, a lot of creativity, and a lot of flexibility. It doesn’t look the same from one minute to the next or from one child to the other. It looks mainstream only when I am needing to take care of myself or needing time to myself or just completely frustrated. When I’m connected and present, it looks like I’m a big kid myself. So it looks different because I need to be a different kind of parent depending on the circumstances. To others, I think it looks like I have no idea what I’m doing. But I do, dammit! How can I change this appearance? Or should I not worry about it?  

Krimboor often asks me why I’m on the computer all the time. Or, sometimes, he’ll just say something snarky, such as, "Oh, there’s your mom." in mock surprise when he finds me on the computer. It’s true that there are days that I am behind my laptop screen for hours and hours. It’s not usually consecutive, but it adds up during the course of the day. It prevents me from being connected to the kids. It sometimes results in them being bored and fighting. So sometimes it is a problem. Sometimes I am barely on the computer at all. It just depends. One of the comments or posts I read in the Carnival of Natural Parenting made me think about why I use the computer and why it varies as to how much I use it. So here are some thoughts I had about why I use the computer. 

There seem to be three main reasons: 1) I use it if I’m tired, 2) I use it when I am bubbling with ideas so I can write, and 3) I use it to connect with others. I some ways I am using the computer and the Internet as a very poor substitute for time to myself or going out with friends (which I have very few of anyway, at least that live near enough). 

Reading because I’m tired 

I like to read when I’m tired. It’s as if my eyes just want something to do, and for me, reading is it. I’m sure there are people who like to watch TV when they are tired. I am often not in the mood for TV, though I am sometimes content to sit with the kids while they watch and I read my book, a magazine, a cookbook, just about anything. I’m one of those readers. You know, the kind who read the back of cereal boxes at breakfast if there is nothing else to read? Or who read a bottle of shampoo if they need to wait for the conditioner to soak in or something? The best thing about the Internet is that usually things are short reads, so I can be easily interrupted and it’s not a big deal. Sometimes I can read my book during the day, but for the most part that is saved for that time after the kids are asleep and I’m warm and snuggled in bed.

Someday my kids will be old enough that I will actually be able to take a nap when I want or need to. Sometimes I don’t get enough sleep because I stayed up too late reading, watching TV, or, you know, having intimate relations. Sometimes I go to sleep when I should but I don’t sleep well or I get woken up often by kids and cats. Or, in the spring, summer, and fall when the window is open I sometimes wake up to the sound of a raccoon knocking over something, possums or cats fighting, cows lowing (probably for their calves when they are being weaned), or the roosters crowing. Such is country life.

Bubbling with ideas 

Sometimes my brain feels like it is on fire. It doesn’t happen as often as I would like, unfortunately. When it does happen I have tons of ideas, things to research or learn about, and things I want to write about. Sometimes I dream of blog posts or I wake up for some other reason and start writing a post in my head. I can have all those thoughts in my head for a while, but if it is too long or there are too many, then I just have to get them out. That is part of what my two blogs are for, to share those ideas and the things I’ve learned. I used my other blog to journal my gardening experience last spring, to share our experience with chickens, snakes, and cows. I blog here to sometimes rant, to share funny things the kids say, to flesh out my parenting values and beliefs. The best part about blogging, though, is reading other people’s blogs. I have "met" some interesting people that way, some who live halfway around the world. I have been exposed to new ideas and have also found support via the Internet. 

I think when I was teaching this aspect was a bit easier. I may have spent as much time on the computer working with my students and entering grades and stuff, but the ideas got out on a more regular basis. Someday I will definitely go back to teaching part-time. I do love it and I think I’m good at it, but it’s just not the right time. I think I will wait until the kids are older and can take care of themselves better. Then they can stay home with Hubby while he is working, but hopefully not bother him. Or, when they are even older, they can just stay home by themselves, or come to class with me. The options are great, but the time is not quite right. Besides, they will only be little for so long and I don’t want to miss much of this time because I can’t get it back. 

Poor substitute

I admit, though, that the Internet is a poor substitute for real friends that I really see and go out with. It’s a poor substitute for time to myself or actually going to see family members. However, sometimes it’s the best I can do. I cannot just leave the kids and go get some coffee and read a book whenever I want. Someday I will be able to do that, of course. Someday I might be able and willing to leave the kids overnight, but not for now. So every now and then I try to sort of veg out and be alone with my thoughts behind my laptop screen. It doesn’t really work and I think that when the weather is better I should try to go for a walk outside instead or working in the garden. It’s a little easier to get quiet and time alone when the weather is better, that’s for sure!

I do need more friends. Or, at least I need more friends who are closer by. It would be nice to have a group of moms to hang out with as I did in Phoenix. I miss those ladies so much sometimes. I have friends here, it’s just that they often work and the kids are in school and those two things take up a surprising amount of time. Plus, one mom is in graduate school, which takes up even more time. My nieces are involved in extra-curricular activities, so that also limits things to a certain extent. And yet, I really need to stop making excuses and find my tribe here in west, central Illinois. I have another good excuse, but that’s another blog post, I think. I have friends from grade school and high school that I need to reconnect with and try to see on a more regular basis. I love the people that I have "met" on the Internet. I love keeping in touch with people via Facebook and Twitter, but it’s just not the same as going to a playgroup with the kids or a Mom’s Day or Night Out. It’s not the same as having coffee or lunch with a friend.  

There are lots of other things I use the computer and Internet for. I look up lots of things on the Internet, sometimes shop on the Internet, make my lists using Google tasks, use the Google calender, and use my computer to store pictures and videos. I use it for a quick break when I am cleaning or making dinner. I use it as a convenient place to sit down when I’m tired. There’s lots of reasons, of course. I can cut down on the time I’m at the computer by staying busy, making friends, getting enough sleep, and making sure I get enough time to myself. I had a couple of weeks lately where I was barely at the computer. I had time for a quick e-mail check in the morning and that was it. I like to be busy like that, but I can only do that for so long before I need to slow down and rest. That’s kind of where I am at the moment, needing rest. In fact, I think I might go lie down upstairs or go make some food in the kitchen.

Welcome to the January Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting resolutions! This post was written for inclusion in the monthly Carnival of Natural Parenting hosted by Code Name: Mama and Hobo Mama. This month we’re writing about how we want to parent differently — or the same — in the New Year. Please read to the end to find a list of links to the other carnival participants.

I wrote a post back in November about some resolutions I’ve made, but it’s definitely time for more.

Be a better listener…now what were you saying?

One thing I’d like to do is to really take the time to listen to my kids more. It’s not that I don’t hear what they say, it’s that they don’t know I’m listening as well as I am. I am a bit distracted or preoccupied most of the time they are talking to me, it seems. I remember my mom being like that and it was upsetting. I can look back now and see that she was terribly busy working, taking care of us, cooking, cleaning, attending our activities and being involved in school, but at the time it hurt. So I want to listen to my kids more carefully. I want them to know that what they are saying is important and interesting to me.

Sometimes I might have to fake it, I suppose, but most of the time I won’t because most of the time I genuinely am interested in what they are saying. So this resolution is more about making the outside behaviors match my inside attitudes. I am interested and want to hear what they have to say, so I just need to act like it more often. What this means is that I need to stop doing what I am doing at that moment, look at them, and really listen. If I can’t do that, I will ask them to wait just a second so they can have my full attention. They deserve my full attention more often than they get it. I’d really like to make sure I do this all the time with all people, but for now I will work hardest on listening to the kids. 

Less yelling, dammit! 

Another thing we all need to do in this house is a lot less yelling. It’s hard to not yell when you live with emotionally intense people. I know there are mellow people in the world, but our family is not among them. Except maybe Krimboor. And that’s probably part of why he gets stressed out around us sometimes. Anyway, intense or mellow makes no difference. We really need to cut back on the yelling and the quickness with which we seem to get angry. Perhaps if we could work on that, then the daily violence between the children will also decrease.

Empty the grumpy battery

I need to get more regular breaks for myself. That’s important for the kids and me. It’s important because if I can get more regular time to myself then it makes the first two resolutions a lot easier. It’s important because the kids need to be reminded that they can rely on other adults to meet their needs. It’s important because I need it to maintain balance. The other day I had a nice long break. I was gone most of the day. That morning Mo had hit Chico Habib with an arrow. Chico Habib was hurt and I comforted him for about 2 seconds before I started lecturing him about the darn arrows that he never took care of or put away and how he was yelling at her and that is part of why she hit him, etc. He called me on it and I’m glad he did. I told him he was right, that something is wrong if I can’t just comfort him. I told him that I was going to get some time to myself that day to recharge my mommy battery. He told me that my grumpy battery was full. I had to laugh at that because it was such a perceptive comment.

So I was gone most of that day and the kids got to hang out with their dad all day. They barely missed me. I’d rather have a couple of hours every week than 6 hours every two months, though. That would be better for all of us. The other part of this resolution is that I have to arrange time for myself to do something fun, something for me. Going to the grocery store by myself doesn’t really count. I mean, it does give me some of that peace and quiet that I need, but it isn’t really nourishing. I need to nurture myself somehow. I have lots of ideas about how to do that, so it’s really just a matter of deciding to do it and doing it. 

Filling their cups

I remember an idea one mom gave on an e-mail list I’m on. It was about how she and her kids did everything together all day long until they basically got tired of her. She filled their cups, so to speak, and then they all wanted time apart. I don’t think that works for us because the kids don’t always want to help with breakfast and I’m not really into making them do things. And yet, I see the wisdom of that and would like to work on doing something close to that. If I could do that, it would mean more help with chores (though really I need to think of it as us working as a team to make breakfast and keep the house up) and it would mean less fighting because there will be fewer opportunities if the kids are busy and with me. So while I’m not ready to make that a resolution, I think I will add it to the toolbox since it seems to fit in nicely with the other resolutions. 

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Visit Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama to find out how you can participate in the next Carnival of Natural Parenting!

Please take time to read the submissions by the other carnival participants:

(All the links should be active by noon on Jan. 12. Go to Hobo Mama and Code Name: Mama for the most recently updated list.)

• To Yell or Not to Yell — The Adventures of Lactating Girl
• It Is All About Empathy: Nurturing a Toddler’s Compassion Potential — Baby Dust Diaries
• To my babies: this year… — BluebirdMama
• Mindfully Loving My Children — Breastfeeding Moms Unite!
• January Carnival of Natural Parenting: Resolutions — Code Name: Mama
• Imperfect Mother — Consider Eden
• Resolutions — Craphead (aka Mommy)
• FC Mom’s Parenting Resolutions 2010 — FC Mom
• What’s in a Resolution? — Happy Mothering
• January Carnival of Natural Parenting: Parenting resolutions — Hobo Mama
• Natural Parenting Resolutions — Little Green Blog
• This year, I will mostly… — Look Left of the Pleiades
• Parenting Resolutions — The Mahogany Way
• I Resolve to Breastfeed In Public More Often — mama2mama tips
• Moving to Two Kids — Megna the Destroyer
• Use Love — Momopoly
• My parenting resolutions — Musings of a Milk Maker
• Talkin’ ’bout My Resolutions — Navelgazing
• Parenting Resolutions — One Starry Night
• Invitations, not resolutions — Raising My Boychick
• No more multitasking during kid time — The Recovering Procrastinator
• I need to slow down, smell those roses AND the poopy diapers — Tales of a Kitchen Witch Momma
• Resolutely Parenting in 2010 — This Is Worthwhile

I hated chores when I was growing up, and I wouldn’t say we had a lot of them. I mean, there were chores and they had to be done daily. And sometimes my parents would go bowling on Sundays and my mom would leave a list of things to do. I complained and moped and hated it. So did my brother. It did not matter how many times my mom told us that if we wanted her to work so we had extra money for extras, then we had to help out around the house. She told us that so many times and yet my teenage mind did not care or get it.

Well, now I get it. I don’t even work outside the home at the moment, but there is still no way that I can keep this house clean. And when I say clean, I just mean reasonably picked up. I want to relax about things being messy. I wish I could just enjoy and embrace the chaos, but I really can’t. Or I can, but only for a while and then it gets to me. I get overwhelmed by the stuff being everywhere. I get tired of having to watch where I walk so I don’t break something or trip over something. I get tired of not being able to find things. And then I yell and withdraw and don’t want to play with the kids because every room in the house is such a mess.

And yet, I am not really in favor of "chores" as they are usually done, where the child has a list and has to do them and there is no flexibility. I don’t want slave children, I don’t want children who help out because they are scared or will be punished for not doing chores. I don’t want chores to be rewarded either. Ideally, I want the kids to help out around the house because they want to and they want to because they are a part of this household. The thing is, I’ve been waiting for either of them to show just a tiny bit of desire for cleaning and picking up. I suppose it is happening, just not as quickly as I would like. 

So I thought I’d make a chart with pictures of all the chores that have to be done every day. Maybe I’ll call them something other than chores, something like "important jobs" or "opportunities to have some fun family bonding time AND get the house picked up." Or maybe just chores. Either way, I need some help. I won’t make them do things if they don’t want, but I will keep asking and telling them that I need their help if I really need it. If I just want it, I will just ask and let it go if they do not want to help. I will not ask them to do things they would hate doing, like getting the cats soft food (which they think is stinky) or scooping cat boxes. 

The chore chart idea was a few days ago. When I brought it up to Chico Habib, he was quite resistant and spent the rest of that day saying no to any little request. But anyway, I realized since then all the little things they do around the house. So, here’s a list, just so I can gain some perspective. 

• Every day or every other day, the children collect eggs from the chickens since the chickens lay in a place that no adult can get to
• There are many times that the kids have thrown out scratch grains for the chickens or helped get them into the coop at night
• Most days the children put garbage in the garbage can or hand it to me - this is way better than putting it on the floor!
• Most days the kids don’t even wear clothes, thus cutting down on the amount of laundry needing to be done
• Sometimes the kids put their own clothes away
• They will often take their dishes to the kitchen after dinner if I remember to ask them
• Just the other night, Mo was helping to set the table for dinner and Chico Habib was guarding the food from the cats
• They will occasionally help pick up the couch so that they can jump on it
• When we worked on the garden, the kids helped quite a bit. Chico Habib helped with getting the soil ready and Mo liked to help gather veggies. Both liked planting seeds.
• They will occasionally use the dustbuster to clean things up off the floor.
• Just the other night they cleaned the kitchen floor. They got it really wet and skated around on it, making it lots of fun.
• They are really enjoying cooking and baking more and more every day. 

 

There is no Day 1 post, so don’t be confused by the title. We have an experiment going on in our house right now. But first, a little background.

The kids fight every day. This has been going on for more than a year. They hurt each other every day: flicking pinching, smacking, punching, kicking, biting, headbutting, shoving, throwing things at each other. I’m sure I missed a few, as they are both resourceful and creative when finding ways to hurt each other. We have a rule/principle that we do not hurt other people or animals. Now, it’s not like I just made a rule and didn’t try to give them other means of working out their difficulties. I have tried. And tried. And tried.

I have tried being calm and being an unmovable mountain to their ups and downs. When I am able to do that, it helps. Mostly it helps me not to get upset with them, but it doesn’t really keep them from fighting. We’ve tried blocking, physically blocking them when the fists and feet go flying. This works fairly well (but definitely not 100%) if we are there, in the room, in the moment, present. I have a friend whose children have a similar relationship to my two. This is her technique, along with quiet, loving acceptance/tolerance. She once said that by not getting upset with the aggressor, she is showing the hurt child that she loves them both unconditionally. I agree, understand, and want to be like that. There are times I can do that and times I can’t. I take them hurting each other very personally, even though I know I shouldn’t. It’s not a reflection on me, my parenting, my choices, or anything, right? And yet when there are two little people you love with your entire being, it is so freaking hard to see them hurting each other. It wears me out. It makes me sad. I feel guilty because I feel that the sibling rivalry stems, in large part, from having them close together and weaning Chico Habib after Mo was 9 months old (we night weaned not long after she was born). I feel guilty for sending him to the neighbor’s house for preschool shortly after Mo was born. I even feel guilty for sending him to the nursery for 2 hours so I could get some sleep the day he was born. I know I need to tell the guilt to go fuck itself. I mean, really, how long can I feel guilty about things like this? How long do I need to blame myself for a poor decision (preschool), and some necessary, but sucky decisions (weaning and the nursery). And can I really say for certain that those decisions are causing this sibling rivalry and fighting?

Ok, so now that that’s out there to chew on, I can tell you the other things we’ve tried and whether those things are good or bad ways of coping. Talking is good as long as we don’t start lecturing, but it only works if there is a moment to jump in quickly before things escalate and if I am in the room and paying attention. When I say talking, I mean talking to them, having them talk about what they each want. If we can get that to work, then we can come to a compromise and work things out (really good), as there is almost always a way to work things out to everyone’s satisfaction. It just takes time, which we are more than willing to give them. The fighting is compounded by the fact that they are both intense and that things escalate in seconds. We’ve tried separating them, making one be with a parent all the time. That works, but it is not really feasible to maintain it for more than a day or two. I try validating their feelings (great idea but I honestly don’t think of this first even though I want to and need to), which helps but not always in the moment. I’ve talked to Chico Habib about the hurts from when Mo was born because I really was crazy and horrible to him (not all the time or everyday, but enough to make things pretty much suck). That story was supposed to have been part of the epilogue of Mo’s birth story. I never got around to writing it because it’s just too painful. And while I think those feelings play a role, I also think that Chico Habib simply does not want a sibling. He has said that and we have talked about it and I’ve tried to simply validate his feelings. Sometimes I am successful and sometimes I am not. It was easier to validate those feelings when she was still new to the household, but she’s almost four. Will he ever forgive me for having another baby? And if he can’t forgive me, then can he at least not take it out on her?

We’ve tried yelling and screaming (not helpful). Actually I would not say we’ve tried that as it’s not really part of the toolbox. Or, it is part of the parenting toolbox, but it’s the tool that’s on the top that you really don’t want to use because it’s not the best one for the job but you need to get the job done quickly so you grab it anyway. The yelling happens out of frustration. Frustration because I tried to help, tried to stop them, tried to offer solutions. Frustration because I’m sitting RIGHT THERE for crying out loud! Frustration because I’m trying to cook dinner or pee and I feel like I can’t even do that without someone getting hurt. I’ve even spanked them and grabbed them roughly when I really lose my cool. I am not proud of that at all, let me tell you. In fact, it adds to my guilt so I try hard to forgive myself and to do better next time. Obviously, that one is a bad idea for so many reasons, not the least of which is the fact that it only makes things worse. I apologize, always. I think it’s important to apologize because they need to know that I am an imperfect human being and mother. I have cried and sobbed out of frustration. That seems to make them realize how much their fighting upsets me, but it does not change their behavior. I don’t use crying and sobbing as a tool, it’s just something that happens and is probably the most honest emotional reaction I have. 

Nothing seems to work. I am slowly figuring out that by wanting the fighting to stop, by letting it get to me, by worrying over it, by expecting it, I have given it way more attention that it warrants. It’s a law of attraction type of thing. I’ve given it too much energy/thought/time and it hasn’t stopped. Now, that’s not to say that I am happy about it. It doesn’t mean I am ignoring the fighting or that I will not offer them ideas and solutions. I will continue to model conflict resolution for them. However, I have decided to no longer intervene. And while this does not really sit well with my ideals and goals and principles, I think it will work. I would not, however, tell others to do this. I have to say that I have sort of tried this before, but not quite this way. I would sometimes let them duke it out and then yell at them and be upset and frustrated with them (and yes, as I write that out I realize how useless it was to do that). This time, I am acknowledging the fighting, but just barely. I will leave the room and pretty much ignore it. I have still tried to prevent it by describing what I see happening and saying, "What about this instead?"

My level of involvement is not the same every time, but my reaction has been pretty much the same: resignation. It is up to them to decide they no longer want to hurt each other. I have no idea how long that will take, but I can say that Day 1 of Fighting included three serious brawls. So far today there has been less fighting, but still some. It seems better today, but I have no idea if that is a sign of progress or not. I did muster up enough calm to somewhat comfort them today. I realize that sounds cold-hearted. Here I am letting my kids duke it out and I don’t even comfort them? But you see, the question of whom to comfort is not easy to answer. Comfort both, of course, but who is first? By having to choose, I only increase the sibling rivalry. It doesn’t matter who I choose or why. It doesn’t matter if I try to comfort both or if I just sit on the floor and wait for them to come to me for comfort (and when I say comfort, I mean the silent sort where I just hold them and love them). I did mention to them last night, or maybe it was this morning, that when they are ready for ideas on how to get along without hurting each other, their dad and I are ready to help. I did see some small signs of improvement today so I am hopeful. I am really hopeful because if letting them duke it out doesn’t convince them to choose non-violence, then I do not know what will. 

Despite the fact that I just wrote a post defending all our parenting decisions, I still feel that, in general, those decisions and reasons are not anyone else’s business. Part of the reason for last week’s post was some recent family drama that has been going on in our lives. For the first 5 years of our kid-filled lives we did not live near family, so did not have to deal much with family drama. So some of my recent posts stem from the growing pains of living near family. 

At any rate, I’d like to clarify a few things. First, even though my long answers were long, I am sure that I missed a few reasons in each answer. The thought process that led to each decision was a long one and involved much research, discussion (with others and with Hubby and Krimboor), and following of instincts. Second, if I sounded in any way as if I were saying my way is the right way and anything else is wrong, I apologize. That is exactly what I did not mean. My point is that most parents are thoughtful and have their children’s best interests in mind. Though we might see a situation and not understand the decisions or the reasons, we should not judge. Each family is a complicated social unit and only those directly involved on a day-to-day basis really know the intricacies of the situation. Any glimpse we get into someone’s family life is a privilege and should not be taken lightly or taken advantage of. To get a glimpse, no matter how big, into anyone else’s family life does not give us the right to judge or criticize. On the other hand, if you are curious or genuinely interested in why people do things the way they do, I think it is OK to ask. However, it is also OK for the parents to tell you that their reasons and decisions are none of your business. 

I guess what I’m trying to say is that every parent can justify their decisions if they need to, but they should not have to. How parents do things in their own homes is just not our business, short of child abuse. (But even that has different definitions and meanings as some would consider yelling to be child abuse - not that I would argue that yelling is a good or effective parenting tool, but I doubt that in the long run it will permanently damage your child, though it does depend on what, exactly, you are saying). Specifically, how parents conceive, birth, feed, discipline, or teach their children is no one else’s business.

It is not OK to ask the following questions:

1. "So, when are you going to have kids," which is usually asked as soon as two people get married, sometimes on the very day of their wedding.
2. "So when are you going to have number 2 (or 3)," which is usually asked when the first gets to be about a year old, but is sometimes asked even sooner. For more insight on this particular question, check out The Question that Hurts.
3. "Do you want a boy or a girl?" I realize that some people do have a preference, but most people do not and the question is somewhat insulting (and again, words fail to sufficiently capture what is wrong with this question).
4. "Oh, are you trying for a boy/girl this time," to people who have two of the same sex. Again, it’s just a dumb question. It implies that something is wrong with having two of the same sex, that something is wrong with the sex of the children you have. I am sure that when some children hear this question asked of their pregnant mamas or their fathers, they start wondering if it’s true and if their parents are unhappy that they are a girl/boy. 
5. "So, are you done having kids yet," often asked when people have more than the socially acceptable number of kids. In the United States, it seems that two or three children is OK, but more than that is just greedy or irresponsible or something. I’m not really sure about the reasoning behind this, but it doesn’t matter because a person’s family size is none of our business. Period. Also, this question seems to be asked of the mother more often than the father. I’m sure it’s happened, but it’s hard to imagine someone asking a man when he is getting a vasectomy, but it seems acceptable to ask a woman if she’s done. NOT OK.
6. "When are your kids going to get out of your bed?" None of your business, just as a couple’s sleeping arrangements are not our business, neither is a family’s sleeping arrangements.
7. "When is your child going to be done breastfeeding?" That’s between the mother and the child, therefore it is none of your business.

Having said all this, I am sure there are more questions that are just not OK to ask. I’m also sure that my questions have a bias, despite trying to be inclusive. Perhaps there are different questions asked to divorced parents, step-parents, single parents, teen parents, married couples, gay couples, co-habiting couples, etc. I hope that people will start leaving comments (I know people are reading this!). This would be a great post to comment on. What other questions are just rude and unacceptable?

Edited 11/22/09 to add: I finally explored the Sixth Carnival of Feminist Parenting and found a great post called 10 Things you probably shouldn’t say to a teenage mum. Complementary posts, for sure!

I have to say that I didn’t much care for a clean house before I had kids. Some might have even said I was a slob. Either way, something has changed. I don’t know if some biochemistry or hormonal thing changed that would explain my new need for order. Or maybe it’s some genetic thing, like once the women in my family hit 32 or so, the neatness gene starts to express itself. I really don’t know. I just know that my ideal is an organized, clutter-free, picked up house. My reality is that the stuff is overrunning the house. It feels like it breeds like rabbits…. or maybe it’s like some horror film where the Stuff really does multiply and become sentient and take over. 

It’s too easy to blame the kids and to see their stuff all over the house. I mean, it is all over the house. And they do have a lot of stuff, but it’s not just their stuff. We have three adults in the house and our stuff is everywhere, too. Partly we don’t have places for the stuff. Then again, even when we do have a place for stuff, it’s more like each thing has 3-4 places where it could possibly be. And that’s assuming that someone put it where it "belongs."

Hubby is usually really good at having one place for things and putting his things back where they go. Krimboor has several places for things and only sometimes puts them away. Sometimes he leaves them out but remembers where he left them. Unless the kids get ahold of things, of course. What about my stuff, you might be wondering? Well, honestly I don’t feel like I have that much stuff that is mine. I feel that mostly I am responsible for the household stuff, like putting away laundry, groceries, dishes, etc. However, I admit that I totally suck at putting things away. My car keys were once "lost" for about two months. It turns out they were in the car in a cloth bag full of swimming stuff. We had gone swimming with a friend at her community pool. I guess I threw them in there and didn’t remember. For two months. I only found them when I was looking for some extra clothes for one of the kids. Yes, that means there was a bag of swim type clothes in the trunk of my car for about two months. At the moment, I think my keys are sitting upstairs on top of the dryer because they were in my pants pocket and I took them out for some reason (probably because last night I planned on washing these jeans, but then this morning decided they weren’t that dirty after all).

The kids feel that their toys belong in every room, and rightly so. I don’t object to the toys in all the rooms so much as I object to the amount of toys, and stuff in general, in every room. I swear that sometimes I cook dinner just so I can clean the kitchen and be in a clean room. There is no way I can keep the house picked up and clean all the time, at least not by myself. So my ideal of a clean, clutter-free house will have to wait until I am a little old lady (or most likely a fat, old lady, but whatever). Until then I don’t clean so much as I do damage control, which consists of keeping paths clear so that we can walk around the house without someone tripping or breaking an ankle. I clean enough so that if the flu hits, we have a cleanish toilet to puke into. The kitchen is the room that is most regularly cleaned because we do use it daily. The one thing I would love to have a routine for is cleaning the kitchen after dinner. I think that if we all did it together it could actually be fun, or at least it could be some family bonding time. 

So here are a few things that have contributed to our messy house: 

1. Radical unschooling. Now, don’t get in a huff. I’m sure there are radical unschoolers with kids who are naturally neat and organized. Some radical unschoolers may have picked up, clutter free houses. But our children are not naturally neat or organized, it seems. I do not make the kids do chores. I rarely ask them to pick up anything, and even when I do ask they are free to say no. I am not blaming radical unschooling, I’m just saying that we choose that way of life and, for us, that results in a not neat house.
2. Parents who withdraw when things are overwhelming. Wait, let me back up. First you need adults who are easily overwhelmed at times. Then you need them to withdraw, say behind their computer screens for hours and hours a day. This insures that the kids get bored and get out even more toys, making the mess even worse.
3. A spouse who has to travel for work occasionally. Even if he/she is only gone for a week, there are also several days on either side of recovering, packing and unpacking, dropping off and picking up at the airport, etc.
4. Grandparents who are divorced. This works because then instead of 2 sets of grandparents who buy toys together, you get two grandmothers and two grandfathers who each buy toys. Sometimes, if there are step-parents and more divorce, you can end up with even more grandparents. 
5. Our own lack of self-control and desire for new things. The kids, of course, have picked up on this attitude. 
6. Krimboor working at a thrift store. Cheap toys, frequent visits, and the lack of self-control I mentioned above. 

The interesting thing about the mess (and sometimes I really wish I could just strike that word from my vocabulary as I tend to use it too often) is that if I am with the kids - with meaning present and in the moment - then it doesn’t feel like we are making a mess. If I am withdrawn, busy, or preoccupied, then I seem to have tunnel vision and can only see the Mess rather than the creative play and learning that was happening. And believe me, I do realize that sometimes I call it a mess but it is anything but. This is yet another area where I really need to work on shifting my focus and changing words and thoughts. 

Here are two interesting links from some people on twitter. They are both relevant and timely! 

First, Feminist Parenting: The Larger Picture, which is inspired by Dear Kate Harding, which I posted a link to last week.

Second, Parents for Barefoot Children. I LOVE it. It totally goes with what I was saying in my last post and gives information and resources for going barefoot. 

I read an article not too long ago about a homeschooling couple and how people made all these assumptions about why they homeschooled. One point of the article was that there is a short answer and a long answer to all the assumptions and questions about why they homeschooled. 

Well, tonight I am thinking of that article because I feel very frustrated that so few people in my life know me well enough to know that almost all of my decisions are well thought out and researched (sometimes I tend to research things to death, partly as procrastination and partly out of fear of doing something new). Anyway, there is a short answer and a long answer for everything we do.

Why did we move from Phoenix to Illinois? 

Short answer: To be closer to family.

Long answer: To give our kids the family we had when we were growing up - that extended family where you spend lots of time with your grandparents and know your cousins and aunts and uncles. We wanted to be able to leave our kids with people who love them and people that we trust. We had a babysitter in Phoenix, but it was very hard to find one that we trusted and that was good. It made life difficult and made errands difficult. Perhaps we could have tried harder to find a good babysitter. Maybe we could have been less picky (HAH, did you read the rest of the post??). Even now that we have family to watch the kids, we hardly ever leave them with anyone. That’s another question and answer, though! There are other reasons we moved. We were tired of Phoenix (pollution, unsustainability, suburban life, our particular neighborhood). We wanted to live somewhere where we would have some privacy, be able to have our own chickens and other livestock, be able to grow our own food, and to have a place to build or own eco-friendly home. The question to why we want to do those things also have short and long answers, so you can see that this one question could start a long conversation about all kinds of things. 

Why don’t we vaccinate our children?

Short answer: We are not that worried about most of the diseases being vaccinated against, and don’t want to inject our children with chemicals that seem unnecessary.

Long answer: The first vaccine in the hospital would have been for Hepatitis B. This is a disease spread by bodily fluids, such as blood from IV drug users or sexual contact. We didn’t think that our newborn was going to be exposed to any of those things anytime soon, so we decided against that vaccine. Then we read up on the others and decided on each one on a case by case basis. Either the diseases were not that worrisome because a) they are so rare (such as polio), b) not that serious (chickenpox), c) there are risks and side effects of vaccines. Some diseases can be quite serious, such as measles, but the chance of catching them seem low (thank you to herd immunity, I guess!). Measles itself is not that dangerous. It used to be a normal childhood illness. That’s not to say that some people didn’t get really sick or die. Of course they did. But today the risk is more that doctors wouldn’t know what measles looks like so they wouldn’t treat it properly. Either way, it doesn’t matter because the chances are quite slim. It seems almost impossible to catch chickenpox these days, let alone measles. Rubella is a disease that is dangerous to pregnant women more than it is to children. I think that when Mo is of childbearing age I will talk to her about this vaccine. If they don’t ever get chickenpox, we might consider that vaccine when they are older.

Most of the illnesses that vaccines are intended to prevent can be prevented in other ways and can be treated naturally. This is especially true for people who have access to nutritious food and good healthcare. In our case, both kids were/are breastfed and did not go to daycare. We are very proactive in trying to prevent illness and we have good health care. The kids do not have any other serious health problems that would make some vaccines a good idea. In other words, they are not in a high-risk group and their immune systems work just fine, so why mess with a good thing? 

However, just because we do not vaccinate does not mean it is the right decision for everyone. I really think that everyone should inform themselves about each vaccine and make up their own minds. I believe in choice and I want mine to be respected and protected, just like the choice to vaccinate is (to be fair, in some circles it is not respected if you vaccinate, but I don’t agree with that either).

Why do our kids sleep in our bed?

Short answer: Because they feel safe and snuggled all night long.

Long answer: We didn’t exactly plan on having a family bed, but when Chico Habib was a baby, he wasn’t happy to sleep alone. Also, it made night feedings so much easier for both of us, once we got down the nursing-while-lying-down techniques. He slept better and so did I. There’s all kinds of research to back up family beds, too. People used to have family beds because that was all they could afford. Even when the older kids left the parent’s bed, they often shared a bed with their siblings. There’s an idea that the stereotypical caveman parent would have slept with the kids because of the threat of wild animals. There’s evidence that crib mattresses give of noxious fumes and that contributes to/causes SIDS. Also, it’s cheaper to have a family bed, especially if you consider the cost of a crib, the mattress, and all the other stuff that goes with having a crib. There are a ton of reasons to have a family bed, so who can pick just one reason? We never even bought a crib, but instead had a co-sleeper that would attach to the side of our bed. Now that the kids are older, we still have a family bed because the kids are not ready to leave our bed. They will leave it when they are good and ready and I see no reason to force the issue. I am warm and snuggled all night long. I wake up to my kids loving me, hugging me, snuggling me, and telling me they love me. Why would I choose differently? And if people are really asking because they want to know how, exactly, we have sex with a the kids right there? Well that’s what their bedrooms are for. DUH.

Why did we breastfeed and why am I breastfeeding an almost 4 year old?

Short answer: Breastmilk is best. Even Nestle agrees (even if it is only a marketing gimmick and because they have to say it!) 

Long answer: I only planned on trying to breastfeed. Once Chico Habib was here, though, I was determined to breastfeed. It was very, very hard at the beginning. We had to supplement. I had to pump. My milk came in late. I had very little to no support at the hospital (thankfully I wasn’t there very long).  Then I planned to breastfeed for 6 months. Then somehow I realized that at 6 months I’d have to switch to formula anyway (see how I decided something without even know what the fuck I was talking about? This is why I don’t do that anymore!), so why not breastfeed for a year? Then we got to a year and it seemed silly to wean abruptly because of some arbitrary reason (a birthday? Ok, kiddo time to give up the boob!). Then I read about how it is perfectly normal for kids to breastfeed for a few years, that even the World Health Organization recommends exclusive breastfeeding for 6 months and breastfeeding in addition to food for two years of age or beyond, that toddlers benefit greatly from nursing, including a benefit to their immune system, which works nicely when you choose to not vaccinate, and that extended breastfeeding also reduces the risk of breast cancer for the mother. 

Now Mo is almost 4 and I am letting her wean on her own. That does not mean she gets to nurse whenever and wherever. It just means that I’m not weaning her just because she reached some magical age where she should no longer have breastmilk. We do have limits and I will sometimes offer her other things, like a snuggle or food or water or whatever else I think might meet that same need. Sometimes it is draining and sometimes it is wonderful. It is what is it is. I have no regrets, but at the same time I do not think I will miss nursing once we are done. Some people do miss it. Some feel bittersweet when it ends. I get that and I would have felt that way myself but at this point I have been pregnant and/or nursing for almost 7 years. So, for me, I am happy with this decision. I am especially happy when Mo has a cold and I know the breastmilk helps her immune system.  

Why are my kids naked and/or barefoot so much?

Short answer: Because they want to be.

Long answer: Part of this answer is an extension of the short answer because for some people kids don’t get to make their own decisions and so that is another whole discussion about the personhood of children. The other part of the answer is that their feet get hot when they wear shoes. Their feet are tough and things like rocks don’t bother them. They like to be barefoot. They don’t want to take the time to put on shoes. Going barefoot is good for your feet, for your circulation, sensitivity, posture, balance, etc. My chiropractor told me that and I believe her. Some grown ups don’t like shoes. They wear flops until they absolutely have to put on some other kind of shoe (unless they live in Phoenix and can get away with flops year round!). I can get the kids to wear flops most of the time, but they kick them off as soon as they can: under tables, on the airplane, in the car. They don’t like shoes. That’s all there is to it. I personally think they are smart for this and I so wish that my feet were not so sensitive so I could go barefoot, too. Somehow I think the people at the grocery store would really have a fit with me going barefoot, which is totally a social class thing. The only people who don’t wear shoes are people who can’t afford them, right? It’s a social class bias to require shoes. Don’t be fooled. It is not about public safety or health. The fact that so many places require shoes is more a fear of lawsuits than because of any health hazard or danger to going barefoot. 

As far as clothing, my kids are naked most of the time that they are home. They also tend to strip down as soon as they are at either grandmother’s house. They know they have to wear clothes in public. They get that, but it’s hard to tell them why they have to wear clothes at home, isn’t it? But what about when people are visiting? Well sometimes I will tell them who is coming and that they might want to put on clothes. I might mention to them that someone is uncomfortable with their nudity if that is the case. Sometimes the person will mention it to them. Chico Habib once wanted to wrestle with our cousin (my cousin, their second cousin or whatever) and my cousin said he would, but he wanted Chico Habib to put on some shorts. Done. It was that easy and free of conflict or bad feelings. Now, apparently many of the adults we know are very concerned about the kids being naked around other people. My response to that is also a long answer, but I’ll try to keep it short. One, I am not worried about anyone calling DCFS/CPS. Two, I know who has seen my kids naked and I am not worried. Three, being uncomfortable with children being naked is really an issue with our culture and our own neuroses more than a problem with children being naked. Nudity is neither bad nor good. It’s our judgment of it that makes it bad or good. There’s a sociological theory about that, but it doesn’t matter what the theory is. Nudity is nudity. Having a problem with it is cultural or personal baggage. Besides, I don’t leave them with strangers when they are naked, now do I? 

Why do our kids not go to school?

Short answer: This one is probably the hardest to answer quickly. There are so many reasons that I pick one based on who I am talking to. Sometimes I talk about school culture. Sometimes I say I want the kids with me. Sometimes I say that I don’t think Chico Habib’s temperament is suited for public schooling. It just depends.

Long answer: We want our kids with us. I do not want to send them away for nearly 8 hours a day, 5 days a week. I don’t want their lives to be so structured and inflexible. I don’t want them to wake up, get dressed, get their things ready, grab their lunch, catch a bus, go to school, come home and do homework, play for an hour (if they are lucky), eat dinner, bathe, read books, go to bed. It’s fine for adults to have that kind of schedule and lack of free time, if they so choose, but it’s not what I want for my kids. School is like a full-time job. Kindergarteners have homework and get demerits. The focus is almost exclusively on reading, with other subjects going by the wayside. The curriculum is set by a board rather than by each teacher for that particular class. The teachers are almost forced to teach to a test rather than to teach to interests or to age-appropriate topics.There are bullies, there are too many students for each teacher in many schools, the school food sucks, there are chemicals used for cleaning, including bleach, there are silly rules to follow, decision making is not encouraged. There are zero-tolerance/zero-discretion laws. I think that schools are institutions that are really good at teaching kids how to live and work in other institutions, such as schools, hospitals, corporations, the government, and prisons. They are not good at teaching kids to be artists, inventors, free-thinkers. I’m sure there is more I could say about my objections to school culture, but that’s probably sufficient. In short, learning is not fun for most kids and I am sure that Chico Habib, in particular, would hate school. 

I think that if Chico Habib were in school, he would get into trouble because he would want to talk. He would want to give answers and ask questions. He would hate the busywork of worksheets. He would hate having to raise his hand, he would hate being told he couldn’t go to the bathroom. He would hate the singing and dancing. I’ve taken him to the library for things like that and he hates it. Waiting in line is not fun (and only something you have to do in an institutional setting, it seems). I would probably be told that he was dyslexic and has ADHD. Who knows. I don’t know for sure, but I do know my child and I know that school is not right for him.

I also want my kids close to me. I want them attached to us, oriented to us. I don’t want them affected by peer culture and peer pressure. I want to hold onto my kids. This can be done when they are in school. It’s true because I see my sister-in-law do it. She is quite attached to her kids and in tune with them. I just don’t think that it would be easy for us to stay connected as a family if the kids were in school. This is not to say that I don’t want my kids to have playmates. I do want that, but I also want them to look to us, their parents, when they are uncertain of what to do or how to behave. That would be much better than their classmates for so many reasons. 

Another reason is that I’m lazy. I’ve heard a friend make this same argument about why she doesn’t think she is suited to homeschooling. The difference is that friend is naturally outgoing and gregarious. I am not. And since I think that the key to a good public school education is for the parents to get involved, you can see how I might think that wouldn’t work well for me. For me, it would be hard to get to know the teachers, to get to know other parents, and to get involved. Or, at least it would be much harder than keeping the kids with me and organizing arts and crafts or trips to museums and the like. That, of course, is part of why we are unschooling.

What is unschooling and why are you doing it?

Short answer: Honestly, most of our family doesn’t really know this is what we are doing or at least they don’t really know the name for it. I think if people have heard of this and know me, then they get it enough to not have to ask.  The short answer is that Chico Habib only learns what he is interested in learning. Sitting down and "teaching" him doesn’t work. That is what led us to unschooling.

Long answer: Unschooling is called many other things: world schooling, whole life learning, child-led learning, among others. The point is for the child to guide the learning. This doesn’t mean the parents don’t do anything, it just means that we don’t do worksheets or curriculum (unless that it is the child’s request). What we do is facilitate. We take them places, read them books, go to libraries and museums, talk about things all the time. The whole world is full of opportunities to learn. When the kids ask questions, we answer them. We will give long or short answers, depending on how much they want to know and how interested they are. Sometimes we will volunteer relevant information, again giving as much or as little as they are interested in. The idea here is that people (not just children) learn best when they are interested. If they are not interested or their brains aren’t ready, they will not learn. It’s really quite simple! Now, some kids can do fine in school or with structure or whatever. But some don’t and unschooling works really well for them. 

For me, the biggest problem with unschooling is that it seems like you always have to "prove" that your kids are learning. To me, it’s obvious that they are learning all the time, every day from all sorts of media. But sometimes people want to know more. So we end up telling them about a conversation we just had about fractions or princesses or castles or trains. We’ll share some awesome thing one of the kids said. I hate this part. I really do because I feel scrutinized. If they were in school people would not even ask, it seems. They would take it for granted that the teachers are testing them and that if they weren’t learning (as if a test can accurately measure all that someone has learned!) we would be informed by the teacher. But when everyone in the family is a learner and a teacher, it’s enough to make some people’s heads explode, I guess. And yet, lots of people get it. Our farmer gets it. My grandpa, my sister-in-law, even people who would never choose this for their family still get it.  

Why do you want to be with your kids all the time? Why don’t you leave the with someone so you can do something fun?

Short answer: Again, this is not a question anyone really would ask. But I suspect that there are people in our family who do not understand. They don’t understand that I do not leave the kids overnight. I just don’t. I leave them with their dad, Krimboor, or a grandma for a few hours at a time. There have been occasions where I was gone for several hours, but that has only been a handful of times. The short answer is that I love my kids.

Long answer: The long answer is more complicated because everyone loves their kids. Don’t they? OK, well I assume they do and I realize that is naive on my part, but let’s go with that assumption anyway. I don’t leave them with others very often because everyone else works. My mom, my mother-in-law, my aunt, my sister-in-law all work. Everyone works, it seems. I don’t love my kids more just because I want to be with them. It’s just that I don’t want to miss things. I want to take care of them. I want to watch them learn and discover new things. I want them to know that I am there for them, to comfort them, to be their compass in life. It’s hard to be someone’s compass if you hardly ever see them. They make me laugh and we have fun together. At least we do most of the time, but no matter how hard the day might be, no matter how frustrated or tired I am, I still want to be with my kids. I do need time to myself. I do need quiet time. This is true, but if I could get that and be with my kids at the same time, I would never leave them. They are the most wonderful, beautiful creatures I have helped to create. And this answer is not nearly as long as it could be, but honestly it’s too hard to explain. Either you get it or you don’t, and if you don’t then I can’t really explain it to you.  

I know it is not New Years, but why should I wait that long to make some resolutions? 

Tomorrow, Grandpa Crazy Face will be here, in town. I’m not sure when we will see him, but given that he has not seen our new house yet, I expect to see him quite soon. As I said in the Cast of Characters page, I made a joke and called him Grandpa Crazy Face in a moment of anger. I did not intend for it to stick, but others are not always kind. Since I inadvertently coined that nickname, I have grown up a bit. I think I have always been aware of how language can be used to hurt people, but I feel that I know even more now. I know that words can be unkind and that even when used in jest, sometimes things are not funny. I know that, at times, political correctness can be just silly or inaccurate, but it is important to find a balance between the absolutely silly and the absolutely offensive when we talk about others, especially our children. 

I try to choose my words carefully with them. I try to say how I feel instead of blaming them or focusing on their behavior. I try. It’s hard, though. The parenting auto-pilot takes over sometimes. You know how that works, right? You know, when you are tired or exhausted or worn-out or just need some time to yourself and things come out of your mouth without thinking and it tends to be the kinds of things your parents said to you? I really don’t like those moments. They are followed by apologies, because I am many things, but perfect is not one of them. I know some parents might believe that you never apologize to your kids. I, however, believe that it is very important to apologize to your children when you make mistakes. If you don’t, how will they ever learn to say they are sorry when they make mistakes with people’s feelings? These moments are also followed by vows to do and be better, to try harder. Those vows are reinforced when I hear the words I say coming out of the mouths of the kids. 

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I have a friend who has two autistic kids. I’d like to call her a good friend, but we don’t know each other that well. We were getting to know each other before the big move to Illinois. I see her when we visit Phoenix, of course. We e-mail and are on an attachment parenting e-mail list together, friends on facebook and twitter, etc. I admire her and am inspired by her. One of the things I have learned from her is to be careful of the R word. It’s not a word that I threw around often, by any means, but now if I catch myself saying it, I think about it and vow to not say it again. I think that since my friend first posted a link to that website, I’ve maybe said the R word once or twice and caught myself both times. It’s just not funny to make fun of a disadvantaged group, even if it is self-deprecating.

Another vow I need to reiterate is to not to say my kids are driving me crazy. It’s not nice, either to them or to people who really suffer from mental health issues or mood disorders. Now, that’s not to say that the meaning behind the words can’t be rephrased. So what is it that I, and other parents, mean when we say our kids are "crazy" or are driving us crazy? Usually when I say that they are being crazy, I mean that they are wild, running around, being very silly, and possibly on the path to some kind of destruction or harm to themselves or others. These are the times I want to tell them to settle down or calm down. First, I have to think of why I want them to be calm. Are they really going to hurt themselves or each other? Are they about to damage something? Is there a way to redirect them or distract them? Usually distraction does not work at this point, but sometimes it is worth a try. Sometimes suggesting we go outside works, when that is possible. Second, I have to think of another way to express my feelings. What is it that I am really feeling? Usually I am feeling frustrated and anxious. If this is at home, then usually it is my own anxiety or tiredness that contributes to my inability to deal with the natural exuberance of my kids. If it’s in public, I am sometimes worried about others being harmed or annoyed. Sometimes I do not care about that, but I am very sensitive to other people’s feelings and moods so it’s hard to ignore even if I don’t care or don’t agree that the kids are being annoying. However, I think the predominant feeling I have is that the situation, the kids, and/or myself are out of control. Nobody likes that feeling of being out of control, do they? 

The problem is that sometimes things are not out of control, it’s just my perception or my own anxiety. I don’t really feel that I am a particularly anxious person, but at times I am. This is something I’ve learned about myself very recently. I remember my naturopath in Phoenix asking me if I ever felt anxious. I did, but did not realize it at the time. Sometimes it’s not actual anxiety, it’s just tiredness combined with stress and not having enough time to myself. Even that language has changed recently! I used to say I needed a break, which, of course, implies that I need to be away from my family, when that isn’t really the case. What I really need is time to myself, time to think and have some quiet. I’m an introvert no matter how much I wish I weren’t. However, simply changing the wording from, "I need a break" to "I need some time to myself" makes a big difference in my perception of the situation, as well as protecting the feelings of others. 

So anyway, I am vowing to do the following:

• not use the word crazy to describe my kids or my feelings about their behavior
• not use the R word ever again
• not use the word crazy to describe others, because if they really are mentally ill then it is not nice and if they are not mentally ill, then a different word is more approrpriate
• to try even harder to choose my words carefully when talking to the children so as to not make them feel bad about themselves
• to try even harder to express my feelings rather than blaming others or focusing on their behavior; I can’t control other people’s feelings, words, or attitudes, but I can change my own

After all, I want my children to be kind and considerate and careful with the feelings of others. I owe it to them to do the same with their feelings. Now, I think I am pretty good about this, but there is definitely room for improvement. Definitely!

Some interesting reads about how children are people and how bashing kids and/or moms is not OK and is a form of oppression and bigotry of a very vulnerable group. I might add more links later if I find some good reads.   

Dear Kate Harding, which is a response to an article Kate Harding wrote for Salon.com. You can find it on your own if you like. Don’t bother with the comments to the article unless you want to end up with a headache and a foul mood. Really.

Dancing betwen the tables: On the personhood of children

People who dance between the tables

Is that child crazy?

On child hate and feminism

I Blame the Mother

I have another blog. It’s more about country living than anything else. It’s a safe blog. I write about things I care about and am passionate about, but at the same time it’s not all that personal. Or maybe it is, but it doesn’t feel like it to me. I feel like I’m putting my life and ideas out there for people to read, but not my Self, if that makes more sense.

I think I’m a decent writer. I can make sentences and use nice, big words if necessary. I can learn things and then explain them to people in a way that they can understand. I find that kind of writing easy. The writing that is difficult for me is things that are personal or complex. Things that are emotional, like parenting.

On this blog I feel like I am putting my Self out there and, honestly, I don’t like it. I look at my stats and see that someone visited and read some old posts and I feel embarrassed. I’m not sure what all those old posts say, but I know that I wrote things that are personal, revealing, emotional. It’s scary to me to open up like that, which is part of why this blog is mostly anonymous. I don’t share it with many people, and, in fact, I have no good idea about who reads this blog. I have a good idea about who reads the other blog, though. I know that my dad and mom read it, my grandpa and grandma, my friends. So I can choose what I say carefully. I can choose to not say things that will offend or leave me open to judgment on their parts. I can make it safe for me.

This blog has a very different purpose, though. It’s not exactly a mommy blog and yet it is very much about parenting. For me, parenting has been quite a journey. I’ve had to grow up beside my children. Before I had kids, I thought I was a pretty mature person. Now, either I was or I was deluded. I am starting to think that I was deluded and that instead of having an emotional regression after having kids, instead having kids brought my immaturity to the forefront. It’s there and I cannot deny it. I have to change and grow so that I can be a good mom (though what "good" means is different for everyone). There are posts on this blog that highlight my own immaturity and my own issues that I am working on. That makes me feel nervous, scared, vulnerable. Who wants to put that part of themselves out there? And yet I don’t really write this blog for anyone other than myself, so perhaps I shouldn’t care who reads it or what people think when they read it. I can only guess what people think based on what I think. I think that some of my posts sound like a child whining that life is hard and not going the way they expected or planned for. I think if I read this blog I would think this person was so incredibly immature and need to suck it up and be a parent.

And you know, that is partly true. But the other part of me says that the real problem is that I do not know how to effectively communicate the feelings I have about parenting, marriage, my children, and myself. The thoughts and feelings are there and are deep and complex. I have a hard time putting them in the right words. I try to carefully choose my words when I talk to the children, but when I talk about myself the words are not careful and therefore are not accurate. Or at least the words do not give the full picture.

If only I could use words to paint the picture of how much I care about my children, of how much I love them and think about each and every parenting decision. Of how I beat myself up, mentally, when I do or say something wrong. Of how I want to do better than my parents. Of how I want my children to be happy and how I feel that when they are unhappy it is somehow all my fault. Or sometimes, I think that no matter what I do, Chico Habib will not be happy. I cannot make him happy. But then that is my fault because I somehow passed the Unhappy Gene onto him. Of how I am sure that the way we choose to parent is right, but also that we don’t do it right somehow.

I wish I could communicate about how many books I’ve read, how many people I have talked to to try to figure things out. Of how I sometimes try to just relax and not think so much and just be with my kids. 

See, even now I have no idea where this post is going or what I want to say. All I know is that I have not said things as well as I would like. For every sentence I wrote there are many other thoughts that are all related, yet trying to paint an picture of those thoughts with words does not come easily to me. I’d like to think my thoughts are so complicated that it just can’t be done. But I know that is just not true. I do feel that I see patterns and relationships between things very easily and sometimes see things that most others do not. And yet I don’t think that I am such a genius at that that it’s impossible to put those thoughts into words. I just lack the skill to do that. I find myself envying other bloggers who are so eloquent. I can’t tell you how many times I’ve read what others have written and think, "YES! That is what it’s like in my head!"

So anyway, that’s the end of this post that went nowhere and accomplished nothing. And maybe that is the point of having kids…. to learn that there doesn’t always have to be a goal and that sometimes there is nothing to accomplish except to live life and be happy.  

OK, we’ve had a few not so great days. I think it’s the stress of a parent in the hospital thousands of miles away combined with an uncooperative hospital. Then there’s the birthday party coming up Saturday for Chico Habib and that is adding more stress, partly because the party is at the house. That sounds relaxing, but it also means we had to seriously pick up and clean. And by "we" I mean "mostly me" and by "had to" I mean "have to." Some rooms are done and some things are half-ass done. Anyway, I am grumpy and the kids are stressed and Hubby is stressed and working long hours to get some work project done. Krimboor is working most of the day, too, so it seems we’ve barely seen him.

While I could easiliy focus on this and all the negative in our lives, this post is one to change my thinking. I need to seriously refocus and shift my thinking and energy into something more positive. I read a quote from some twitter friends, "

So here is my attempt at shifting my focus by posting some things I’m grateful for: 

• I’m grateful that my kids are healthy and mostly happy
• I’m so happy to be living in the country where we can have chickens and we have privacy
• I’m glad my kids are not in school
• I’m glad we moved to Illinois so that my kids will know their grandparents and great-grandparents, as well as aunts and uncles and cousins!
• I’m grateful to my husband who works very hard and was willing to take a risk and move back "home."
• I’m grateful for the help I get form Krimboor and Hubby, both with the kids and around the house
• I’m grateful to my mother-in-law who often watches the kids while I grocery shop or just get a little time to myself
• I’m grateful that Chico Habib has shown me how to be a better parent than I would have been on my own
• I’m grateful for the farmer’s around us who work so hard and take their food to the farmer’s market
• I’m grateful to the cattle company (a family company) who humanely raised the cow that is filling up our freezer
• I’m grateful that my kids are so wonderful! They are creative, smart, interesting, and think for themselves. 
• I’m grateful to the great group of women I know in Phoenix, who taught me a lot even if they don’t know it
• I’m grateful that I am able to find like-minded people even in a small town

 OK, well I worked on this a couple of days ago and it did help a bit. It was just a crazy week. Now, the birthday party is over and I think things are a big back to normal. If I am still feeling grumpy, I will have to break out the PMS tea I bought. Monday is a doctor’s appointment for the kids. I thought we’d make a day out of it since it’s in a town we haven’t been really been to, only through. It has a really cool park, as well as a Farmer’s Market on Mondays. It should be fun and it will be good to get out of the house, I think.

We went to see Shorts last night. It was a cute movie and I think the kids enjoyed it. It was a good thing we had the whole theater to ourselves, though. The kids just don’t like to sit still for long. Chico Habib is old enough now to sit still for a movie he is really interested in, but Mo is not. Anyway, the thing about the movie that is bothering me is that it was full of white people. I realize that is nothing unusual. I’m almost embarrassed to admit that I didn’t even notice until the very end of the movie. Then it seemed like someone in charge of the movie finally noticed the lack of, shall we say, color? Now, I could be totally wrong but it seemed to me that they decided to throw in some token black actors at the end of the movie. They were not characters with lines, even. They were just in the background. There was a woman, a police officer, and I think some other male. That was it (though the IMDB lists another uncredited black actress as one of the employees).

It’s just bothering me that a) lots of the media is like this and b) I didn’t even notice until the end of the film! I remember teaching and talking to my students about this exact thing. Some of them would argue about why there was a BET or a black student’s organization, or black beauty pagaents, etc. Some just didn’t think it was fair and they argued that if there were a White Entertainment Television station or an all-white pagaent that people would complain. Well that is true. However, my counter argument was always the major networks were essentially WET even though they had different letters. That has changed a bit, I suppose. And yet it is 2009 and there is a movie made that has maybe 5 black actors in it, some of which are uncredited and none of which have a speaking line (unless my memory is failing me?). To be fair, the movie was produced by Robert Rodriguez and does have some actors with Hispanic-sounding names (even if most of them are also Rodriguez and are probably related to the producer). So in that sense the cast is more diverse than it seems at first. However I am still bothered by the fact that it seemed like the producers threw some black actors in at the last minute. 

The second thing that is bothering me is that almost every warning I see on tobacco or alcohol products is aimed at women, and pregnant women in particular. As if tobacco and alcohol are perfectly ok for everyone else. I am guessing that the manufacturers and establishments that sell these products get to choose which warnings to use. So they choose the one that is probably the smallest population of drinkers: pregnant women. I am not saying this warning should not be used. I object to the fact that this is the warning I see the most often. I think it singles out pregnant women and that bothers me. What about men who drink and then go home and beat their kids? Or sleep in the bed with their kids (and I’m all for family beds, but it’s not safe when an adult is inebriated!)? I guess I’d like to see a warning that says "Drinking alcohol is dangerous for men with anger control issues and might contribute to domestic violence." 

I don’t know. I think I have a good point but I’m not sure I communicated it all that well. I’m not trying to be glib. I’m just saying these things bother me and I’m trying to figure out what exactly it is about them that bothers me. Is it the lack of black actors? Is it the fact that I didn’t notice until the end? Is it that it seemed the black actors were just thrown in without any thought except possibly appeasing black audiences? As if that would even come close to appeasing black audiences and as if appeasement is all that is necessary or desirable. How about some actual black characters with lines and an important role? Why couldn’t one of the families have been black? And the smoking/alcohol warning bothers me because it seems that the manufacturers are following the letter of the law but not the spirit of the law. It somehow seems wrong to single out women of childbearing age, but I am sure this has just been done in the name of profits.   

Here is another post of the things we do during the day. The days where I get enough sleep are much, much better and easier for all of us. I’m sure that is true for everyone, though!

The kids played with Legos with Hubby for about 10 minutes while I fed the cats and let the chickens out.

Today we printed out paper money that is realistic looking. We cut some out, but have more to do. Chico Habib and Krimboor had printed some out yesterday, but it was not realistic looking enough for Chico Habib.

Mo collected flowers from around the yard and made a bouquet for me.

I told her the name of the flowers that I know the names of: rose of Sharon, purple coneflowers. I need to learn more flowers so Mo can learn, too!

Chico Habib built a Thomas trackmaster track in the front room.

I made French toast for breakfast and a bowl of cereal for Chico Habib. 

Chico Habib got an egg out of the nesting box in the garage.  

One of the kids dumped out a basket full of toys for pretending (doctor’s tools, for example).

Chico Habib found a cowboy holster belt thingie, some caps, his cap gun, and a hat that his Granny gave him.

Chico Habib wanted to do some science stuff, so we read about a couple of things in a book that Krimboor got us. We didn’t have the stuff to do any of the experiments, but made a list of things to get. Instead Chico Habib played with some insta-snow stuff he got for Christmas last year. It’s really just sodium polyacrylate, which is the stuff that is inside diapers. It’s cool, though.

Mo wants to do nailpolish.

We are currently watching a Batman movie via Netflix streaming to our XBox.

I’ve found plenty of time to catch up on e-mail, facebook, add links to my other blog, reply to comments on the blog, and read a couple of articles.

My mom is coming today and will be here within the hour, I think. We’ll probably go to town and pick up some stuff for science experiments and go to the thrift store.

Anyway, we’ve only been awake for 4 hours and already had a full day of fun, I think. 

My mother-in-law teaches English composition. She just started classes on Monday and gave out her first assignment. She wanted her students to make lists of 10 things they liked and disliked about school. I suggested that a list of things they would change or keep if they were the principal might be more interesting. Anyway, I thought it might be fun to make my own lists.

1. I would make kindergarten half-day because I think that kindergarteners should not have full-time jobs.
2. I would make sure that all students get recess, even in high school. Recess would be at least a half hour for high school, and at least 2 half hour time slots for K-8.  
3. I would do away with standardized tests. Each teacher could test his or her students in whatever way they wanted, or not test them if they chose not to. I think standardized tests have become way too important and don’t really give the full picture, anyway.
4. I would do away with grades so that students of different ages were together. I would do this so that kids could learn together and from each other. I would also do this as a way to discourage competition between grades and the attitude that higher grades shouldn’t talk to lower grades.
5. Any organized or teacher-led games would be cooperative rather than competitive. And I don’t mean two teams where each team works together to outdo the other. 
6. I would encourage the teachers to have class outdoors as much as possible, including just going for walks (and only pointing out names of things when asked!).
7. I would want every school to have it’s own garden and possibly some animals, such as chickens or ducks. Some animal that is useful, rather than just a class pet. Rural schools could have a cow for milking, for instance. Urban schools could easily have hens or ducks.
8. I would encourage the parents and students to take responsiblity for the school grounds: picking up litter, keeping things clean and tidy, etc. Why should some nameless, faceless, poorly paid minority do all the work? The janitors should be part of the community, too.
9. I would insist on lunches that are not made out of canned goods, but are instead fresh, local, and preferably organic. In fact, the kids who have an interest in cooking should be encouraged to help out in the cafeteria. I wouldn’t want to mandate things like that, though. I would want to have people sign up for things, like weeding the grounds, picking up litter, cleaning, cooking, etc. If people didn’t want to help out, that would be OK, too.
10. No homework until highschool. And I’d have to think about high school homework, too.

Some interesting links for those who are interested (courtesy of friends on Twitter):

Kindergarten Crunch: Lack of playtime killing joy of learning, say advocates

Homework: More Harm Than Good? an interview with Alfie Kohn about his book The Homework Myth

Having said all this, I can still say I would not send my children to school. There are serious problems with our schools, I think. I do not like the competition that is promoted. I do not like the independence and squashing of creativity that seems to be a by-product of schooling. I do not like the system of punishment that seems to be so pervasive (kindergarteners can get detention?). While I am sure that there are great teachers, there are also horrible ones. They are probably doing their best, but are just burned out, underappreciated, afraid of getting in trouble, and/or underpaid. I do want to make it clear that I appreciate teachers. It’s not their fault that the system is the way it is. They are doing their job and most of them do a good job. I just don’t like the job they have to do, if that makes sense. I object to the insitution itself (School with a capital S), not the people who work there.

The other primary reason my children will not be going to school is because I want them home! I don’t want them away from me for hours a day, every day. That is too much time away. I want them with me, connected and happy. Even on my worst days, I think they know they are loved. And even when I am desperate for some time to myself, I still don’t want them too far away. So even if I could change School to make it more to my liking, I would still keep my kids home with me, where they are free, loved, and living and learning all the time.