The Halloween The Almost Wasn't...and Then It Was...A Lot.

I never intended for it to go quite the way it did, but then again, some of the best moments in life happen when we just let go of expectation and roll with the Universe, and that is exactly what happened this Halloween.

My husband was away in California on business for the week, and being a huge fan of Halloween, I wanted to bring my kids to do something fun and exciting that I could get into also..especially because I was doing it alone.  I've had some pretty amazing Halloween experiences in my life, so the bar for awesome surrounding this holiday is pretty high...but I also keep in mind that for children, seeing an adult walk around in a big hat is a good time, so we adults often go overboard, thinking kids need SO much.  In this case, I fully admit...I was the one who needed the bells and whistles, and if you live in or near Massachusetts, Halloween bells and whistles can be found in a short road trip to Salem.

Now, I've been to Salem before, a few times.  Last year I went during the "Haunted Happenings" season (the month of October) with my then one-year-old to do a day walking about. We had fun, ate junk, I got to feel witchy and we went home.  This year I wanted to bring my family and have a very festive Halloween, since so far, our New Hampshire Halloween experience has been pretty mellow, to say the least.  I just wanted to help my boys absorb the full potential for this holiday, and it's hard to do that when hardly anyone even decorates in your home town.  For me, the magic of a holiday often lies in the community energy surrounding it...so Salem sounded like a plan.  We put on our super hero costumes, layered for the expected cold, loaded up the car and set off for our 1 hour drive to Salem, MA.

Once we got there, the hunt for parking began...and it's not a fun one.  Half the parking spots are closed for the day by the police for safety protocol, because they expect thousands of people to be walking the streets.  I found a good spot in a place I had circled last year for parking, and we were set...and then, it started to rain.  I loaded up the stroller and my kiddos and we met up with my friend and his son.  Together, we trudged through the rain with our little Batmans (yes, our big kids were both dressed as Batman) and Spider Man and we headed to an eatery for late lunch/early dinner.  We hung there for a while as the rain poured from the sky...and we were already soaked...and Halloween had barely started.  We had good company while we ate and I gave the kids their first candy of the day from my bag, since I packed some treat bags to share with friends.  After the rain let up a little, we left the deli and set off to make a run to the store for some last minute needs and said goodbye to our friends.  We figured we'd hook up again later for trick or treating, if the weather improved.

We did our errand, got to walk around a bit, and the clock was moving fast as 5:30 approached; the official Trick or Treat start time.  So we set out, Batman, little Spider Man and Wonder Woman mommy (Super Heros in their PJs was our theme) and we looked for trick or treat stores in the square.  By this point, the sun was setting and there were more and more fun costumed people coming out by the second.  The energy was palpable...and exciting...but it was still wet and icky out...and now we didn't have anyone to walk with.  Then, we discovered that where we were, the shops, in the HEART of Salem, were not doing trick or treat.  Shop after shop, we, and a bunch of other families were being turned away from shops who were open on Halloween but not giving out candy...as hundreds of costumed people walked by.  My little Batman Boo was starting to get very sad and frustrated...and I was starting to panic and get very upset with myself.  Did we just make a huge mistake?  The rain had totally stopped, but it was almost 6:30 and my little boy had one piece of candy and is ready to cry.  Did I selfishly schlep my little kids into this mess and ruin Halloween?  So I took a breath.  I stopped and said, out loud,  "Goddess, I'm sorry I didn't plan this better.  Help me save this Halloween for my children".  We kept walking...looking for the car to check the meter, but which I now could not find.  My cell phone was very low on battery by now.  I saw a few more groups with children, so I stopped a mom and asked where the trick or treating was, and explained our predicament.  "The shops here are awful, we're going to the commons...just come with us!" she said.  And I look down and see her kids and friend's kids...dressed as The Flash and Superman...rounding out our Justice League.  I just smiled...and shook my head.  Could a prayer be answered any better than that?

So we walked with them and talked and trick or treated for almost 2 hours...filling our bags and hearts with holiday fun.  The houses were decorated and festive and the people were in great spirits and fantastic costumes.

  We finished it off with a group photo of the kids and a walk through the park, with a live concert in the background.  We said goodbye to our new friends and headed in the direction we suspected our car might be.  I still could not find my way to the parking area where our car was, so I stopped and spoke to the Salem Police tent they had set up, and the officer knew what I was describing, because the only thing I couldn't remember was the street name.  She directed us to walk around the big crowd and find our way there.
  As we walked around, tired but content, I started to get impatient and nervous.  It was getting very late for my kiddies and it is not really an environment for children, though it was less menacing than I expected the night life to be.  I've done Halloween in the village in NYC, and there is a seedy factor to take into account, but here, there was not much of that as long as you steered clear of the carnival.  Even the scariest costume people were giving off a friendly energy.  It was really fascinating.
We took the big turn down the main street that would take us to our car, and the real show began.  SO many amazing costumes!  People stopped to say "HEY BATMAN!" and a few people took pictures of us while we took pictures of other people.  In this case, I admit, I was glad my children had masked costumes which were back on at this point.  We saw Eliot riding a bicycle carrying E.T in the basket, we saw the cast of Mario Cart, a bunch of bananas, hundreds of cool witches of course, and a grand tally of super heros, including 10 Batmans (of various generations) 4 Captain Americas, 5 Robins, 1 Green Lantern, 3 Iron Mans, 1 Carnage, 3 Super Girls, 7 Superman/Man of Steels and a Thor...and one Joker, who was spotted by my little Batman who immediately went into character stance, preparing for battle.
It was Legendary.

  We finally made our way back to the car, got comfy, and settled in for our drive home.  It was WAY later than I intended, but so much of that amazing time happened after I intended to leave that I wouldn't trade it.  My children have now thoroughly absorbed the full potential of a Carpe Diem Halloween, and all the possibilities of the creative and magical experience out there.
We would have been just fine trick or treating in our own town and I'm sure we would have had a blast, but after that experience, we know what is out there...and it's too cool not to be a part of it.

"That Mom" and Other Delusions

Yesterday, I found myself feeling very much like "that mom".

You know what I mean.  Whether we like it or not, there is a tendency for people to see something and pigeon hole it in order to feel more in control of the world, and perhaps themselves, or for whatever reasons people do that.  We know there are infinite complexities to things when they happen to US, but when we observe 5 minutes of someone else's life, something <cough...EGO...cough> allows us to sit in judgement, deciding we KNOW "that person" and how ____ they are and how much better things would be if they just ____.

So, yesterday, I'm pretty sure I was in "that mom" category; that place where all eyes are on you and you can almost hear the thoughts behind those glaring eyes.  "That mom" who's actions can be stereotyped rapidly by the judgmental onlookers.

When I woke up, I was "that mom" who got the day started right.  I made rice porridge from scratch, we sang our way to the bathroom to brush our teeth together, managed to get them dressed and organized enough to get through our homeschool circle time, our walk and outside chores, snack and even painted pumpkins together.  I had a stint as "that mom" who lost her cool and shouted when story time was spiraling into chaos, but we reset things and pressed on.  Then I was "that mom" who went with the energy of the moment and tossed the kids into the car for a trip out in an attempt to get shopping done AND make the evening easier on myself.

Then things got interesting.  And by interesting, I mean worse and worse.

First we went to the playground, and while my little Bubs napped in the Ergo, Boo tried to play with the one little girl who was there...but she was not interested.  Then, I became "that mom" feeling self conscious about her son annoying this first grader and not taking a hint...but I got over that...that's his journey and not harming anyone.  Those are the painful lessons of socializing in the world after all.  He needs to feel the impact of being rude in his extroverted way and the little girl needs to experience the impact of being rude in her introverted way.

Then, I became the mom of the little boy who was starting to get hyper...and anxious...just when three boys showed up to possibly "save the day" for our social hour, but they immediately started picking on Boo because "girls have long hair.  You're a girl".

Oh dear.

Now, I'm the mom of the boy who is chasing after three other boys yelling "WAIT! I'M NOT A GIRL!  MY MOM SAYS THAT BOYS CAN HAVE LONG HAIR AND GIRLS CAN HAVE SHORT HAIR!!!" while they run away laughing...and this continues...for like....10 minutes...because once my little Boo gets locked into getting a point across, he WILL be heard.
Then, I was the mom holding an awake two year old and trying to keep the peace between three...shall we say...misinformed little boys and my son.  I was also the mom who couldn't help but laugh a the fact that the boys 4,4 and 6 years old, were all calling my son a girl while each sporting a diamond earring in one ear...which is fine...but notable.

I became the mom who was following her son around while he continued to chase these boys, trying to get his attention so he could "let it go..." but he just couldn't.  Finally...I was able to summon "redirection genius mom" enough to point out the unoccupied tire swing; the holy grail of the playground.
The three boys (who are not mine) RAN to the tire swing, as Boo showed up along side...and using every teacher-face-muscle I could muster, I smiled and said "hop on! I'll push you!"

So now, I have 4 boys, sitting together on the tire swing...laughing and getting dizzy together.
Of course, the minute they were all seated, Boo take the opportunity to, once again, TRY to express his non-girl status...and I helped move the subject along by asserting that hair is part of your body and people can choose to wear it how they like...and we moved on.  So, I was for a moment, "that mom" who preaches to other people's kids...but if I have to put up with my boys getting second hand "lessons" from "those parents".  then so can they.

By this point, I was the happy mom, feeling quite proud of the scenario, save for my poor Bubs who was isolated to the baby swing so as not to be crushed by the rowdy boys on the tire swing.  But time was ticking, so I brought him over for a last ride with the other kids, who were now the best of friends, and informed Boo that we would have to leave soon.

Oh dear.

Now, I'm "that mom".  "That mom" of "that kid" who is running away and bringing in conspirators to stay away from me, lest I spoil all the fun.  Holding a 2 year old and chasing a 5 year old...really not gonna happen.  I speak to him firmly but calmly...no.  I remind him that I warned him that time was up soon....no.  I explain to him that I am waiting for him and holding his brother and it is late and we need to go NOW.  (This usually works in this sort of stand off)...NO.

Now, I'm "that mom" who is embarrassed...frustrated...and my child is defying me utterly.  I completely understand why he didn't want to leave...but it is what it is...and it's time.  Then, I am "that mom" who needs help...and the adult who was watching the three boys started to call them down, presumably to assist my retrieving mine.  Unexpected from the adult who sat there watching his three boys tease mine, but then again, he's "that uncle" (the boys told me his relation while on the tire swing).
Finally, I manage to grab my son, and I mean grab...by the arm...as he continued to try to run away from me...but he knows that if he is being dangerous I will grab him if necessary and if I am out of patience and things are urgent, I will stop him...and running away from me is not acceptable, because it's dangerous.  So now, I'm "that mom" dragging her screaming, crying, angry son to the car.  I just had no more energy to do the best thing, which I am more able to do one on one with him...where he calms down and can see clearly and cooperates with me willingly...but now, I'm "that mom" who has had enough...and we have to leave and have dinner...and go grocery shopping.

I continued to be "that mom" who got her little one into the car while a 5 year old screamed at her and said upsetting things and angry words through tears.  But I know "that child"...THIS child...and if I get it together, HE will get it together.  So, I took a breath...and I listened to him yell at me.  I explained that he needed to lower his voice and that what he said to me hurt my feelings and made me think he doesn't care about me.  I listened to what he needed to say, as he pleaded to go back and that he wanted to say goodbye and that he just wanted to play with them longer.  There we are...we've reached the point.  "I know you want to play longer but we are leaving now".  I had already told him that next time he wants to go to this playground we cannot, because he ran from me and running away is not acceptable when it's time to go.  He was calming down...and he begged to go with me to get the stuff I left behind on the playground...because I was "that mom" who left a pile of stuff on the ground while trying to get two pre-schoolers to the car.  I told him that I would love him to help me, but that I was unable to trust him because he broke our rule when it was time to leave.  He promised and promised...having mommy powers, I could see he was sincere.  I said he could come if he held my hand...something he never wants to do if it's demanded...and he resisted...but we made an arrangement...so he could help me and say goodbye to his new friends.  He walked with me calmly, picked up his water bottle while I collected the rest, and waved to his friends and said "GOODBYE!!!" They all waved back...and we went to the car.  We hugged.  He apologized.  I apologized.  We went to get dinner.  I felt like all of those moms at once...because I am...except...I'm none of them.

"That mom" is a delusion.  A fantasy.  A concoction of the judgmental eye.  Did one of the parents on that playground think any of these things?  Perhaps.  But I once heard someone say, "what someone else thinks of me is none of my business", and that is one of the best things I've ever heard.  I can be considerate of others AND not value outside opinions OVER my own and over what is best for me and my family.  The reality is, I am the mother of a very spirited and hyperactive little boy, who struggles with certain social cues and does not always realize his own strength.  His natural response to stress is often violent in either language or physically aggressive behavior.  As his mother, it is my job to understand these things and guide him toward better coping mechanisms and model the best behavior I can, because you can talk and punish until you are blue in the face...but MY child responds to compassion and when we appeal to his best self instead of his worst, his best self is then "allowed" out of the grip his ego-neurology has on him.  But, strangers don't know all this.  Heck, even people who know him are generally ignorant of the nature of hyperactivity and what that means in terms of the persons ability to self regulate, or else they just can't wrap their brain around it.  You would think that being hyperactive myself, It would come easy for me to process and understand...but the funny thing about ADHD is that those "symptoms" tend to show their head under duress. ..and nothing in my earlier life can hold a candle to parenting by way of stress.

When a person is stressed, they tend to fall into that fight or flight, default mode, and for me that's basically the adult  version of the tantrums my kindergartner has.  I yell, I say loud nasty things, and my aggressive impulses rear their ugly head.  It's a frustrating cycle of symbiosis; Mommy starts out balanced.  Child starts to become off balance.  Mommy also becomes off balance.  Child is more off balance.  Do we blame the child or mother? No.  We find balance.  The only way for me to help my child be more balanced is to BE more balanced myself....that is to say, to practice actively seeking that peace I need to NOT indulge my negative impulses...and that starts with MY inner journey.  You see, if I no longer perceive my child as a threat, I will no longer have a fight or flight response to his behavior.  Up until this point, I have grappled with the cultural conditioning within me, to think children "don't speak that way to grownups" and that they "need to be put in their place".   I don't intellectually agree with these statements, though I also don't think children should be disrespectful or be allowed to be nasty to people...but there is a gray area...a proactive but hard to understand area where most practitioners of gentle discipline live.  I can't fully hold onto it all the time myself, but when I am "THERE", I know it...and it's miraculous.  Mostly for me, it's like a radio station that comes in and out; sometimes we are rocking a jam loud and clear, and other times...we get frustrating static...intertwined with bits of incoherent Spanish.  You get the picture.
  
The reality is that this is a learning process for everyone involved.  I just have to daily remind myself to have faith in myself, faith in my child, and faith in human nature...because that is really the point.  If I believe people are inherently good, then I don't need to tell anyone how to BE good, but I can act as a mirror and guide to help them find it again when they get lost...and that is how I see my role as "mother".  I decide what I am supposed to be doing.  My fear of external judgement is MINE, whether I'm being judged or not...so how wonderful.  If it's mine...I can let it go!
 Working on that.

      

Our First Day of School

So today, my first born started KINDERGARTEN!
Yes, I know, it's homeschool kindergarten...but it's still EXCITING!
Hair cuts, new sneakers and backpacks, OH MY!

I've spent months planning, figuring out logistics, reading, ordering materials and discussing methods and tips with experienced friends...all leading up to the kick-off today.  I decided that, at least for Kindergarten, a full-on Waldorf method is ideal, but I'm not afraid to throw in or let a few outside ideas in.  For example, Waldorf does not begin working on formal instructed writing until first grade, but my Boo-man has been able to write the first letter of his name and now most of the alphabet, simply from his personal interest.
(For more information on what makes a "Waldorf" early childhood program different, check out this link! Waldorf Kindergarten info)

I am finding it both fun and exhausting to be playing role of teacher and mother...full time.  The "prep the classroom" time was great...all be it, late at night or with a little almost-two-year-old little one wanting to play with anything I laid out for the big "reveal". Though our play corner was always organized and had some of the traditional elements of a Kindergarten, I planned a few things to make it extra special for the "First Day of School".  I rearranged the set up of the space which is now the "Kinder-corner"...and I spent two weeks overhauling where all the toys are located in the house.  You see, while we are a "Waldorfy" family in many ways, there is an ever-looming techno-file father influence that keeps things in check most of the time, that and a touch of the nerd-hoarder gene in both myself and my husband makes what would be extreme seeming Waldorf lifestyle choices, become very balanced and necessary aspects of our lives.  We have all the basic unfinished or beautifully painted "Waldorf" toys, a basket of pine cones and sticks, play silks...and we also have a basket full of original Star Wars action figures and first gen Transformers...all passed down from big Daddy to his boys.  Up until a short while ago, they were all right here in the main area, but with a focused Kindy in mind (and hopes to give little Bubs a shot at a less plastic existence) they were all moved to the upstairs play space, where only big brother goes to play.  This will hopefully keep things in balance, and allow the "school day" to stay more focused.

After today, all of my hopes are floating.  I can not express how grateful I am for today!
It went wonderfully, despite the fact that I was up until midnight last night setting up and putting finishing touches on things, then I lay awake until about 2am because I had too much "Zen Tea"...which apparently, has green tea in it...and apparently...has just enough caffeine to screw up my night.

 Our nature table is all set up, seasonal but with room to fill with lovely things we might find on our walks in the woods.  Today we gathered acorns, fallen leaves and wildflowers, but this pic was taken the night before, with dried leaves from last year to welcome Autumn.

 Our nature table

One favorite of the boys is their play kitchen.  They both spent the morning making "cup cakes" before breakfast and Boo sang "Happy Birthday" to us all at some point today.  

The Kitchen corner

I love little tableau;  creating little worlds for the children to be invited into...so I try to change them up every so-often, but for now, we have two.  

Farm figure setup 

 A little woodland setup 

We had our walk, gathered flowers, sang songs and started a new year of stories about Boo's favorite gnome, Super Sam, courtesy of Melisa Neilsen's curriculum, Waldorf Essentials

Boo & Bubs had a wonderful day, with only a few snags here and there, so overall I was thrilled...and just thankful for the gift of a great start.

Snack time 

  

 Bye for now! 

Just For Today...

...And then there are those days where you are just "surviving".
Days where you are pushed to the limit and you have reached a crossroads of intense trial and pain...and survival is the most you can manage.
Today is one of those days for me.

I debated not writing this because there are so many little blurbs and articles and what-evers that cover some of what I am feeling and experiencing right now, but none of them are my story, and as I value each person's story and voice as an individual contributing to the collective, I am worthy of the same consideration...or at least, I felt moved to toss  my hat in there too.

See, as I write this, my body is saying goodbye to what I thought would by my third child.  I have had two pregnancy losses in the past, before my second son was born, and this was to be our third child.  I was planning to tell my family next week, because that would have been the "safe" point.  It feels good to share my experience and I have always been a "sharer" of my thoughts and feelings, but I was mostly inspired because I've seen a few of those "what not to say to a woman who has miscarried" articles going around (like this one)  and while I have appreciated most of what they have asserted, I had a few things to add.

Loosing a pregnancy can be a complicated thing emotionally.  It can mean something different for everyone.  For some women, it is the same as having a child die, to the point where they memorialize the child equipped with a name and an anniversary of death,  no matter how far along in the pregnancy they were.  For some it's a loss like no other; otherworldly in fact...and solitary, unspeakable.  Perhaps this is the thinking behind the quiet solitude woman in our culture carry with loss, perhaps because some place a stigma of guilt or shame on it, as a sign of deficiency on behalf of the woman.  I can certainly understand those feelings.  Our bodies remind us every month what these amazing parts are capable of, and for those of us who have had healthy children already, we know what they CAN do and have done, so when we loose a pregnancy, it can feel as though our bodies are letting us down; the very center of our femaleness has malfunctioned in some way, or so it seems or feels...or appears.  And perhaps for some, it is not such a deep loss, but on some level, we all go through stages of grief, stages of physical trial and for some of us, we can be scarred so deeply that it may take years to recover.  Sometimes, the scars are not just from the loss itself but are inflicted by the ignorance around us, dis-compassionate medical professionals, or the whole traumatic package, overwhelming us beyond what we can manage.

For me, the now three pregnancies that were not meant to be, are now somewhere between those examples I gave, but someone else has already articulated wonderfully how I see my lost children.  I had read a wonderful book a few years back when researching birth options and learning about home birth in anticipation of my first born; Baby Catcher: Chronicles of a Modern Midwife by Peggy Vincent.  Among this wonderful collection of her adventures catching babies with mothers of all different backgrounds and temperaments, there is one chapter where she discloses her own story of loss.  Her child Colin, no more than 10 at the time, goes to his mother to comfort her, and shares with her what I see as one of the sweetest and most lovely ideas about the children who do not make it through us as expected.

Colin asked, “Are you crying about the baby?” and when I nodded tearfully, he said, “Well, 
you just have to have another one, Mom, because it’s a Spirit Baby, and you should be its
 mother.”
I must have looked puzzled because he said, “Don’t you know about Spirit Babies? How could I know about them if you don’t? I mean, you’re my mom!” But he could see my perplexity. So my first child, this not-yet-teenaged boy, pulled a wooden chair to my side and draped his thin arm across my shoulders, saying, “Well, Mom, here’s how it is. See, I was one myself, so that must be how I know. Anyway, every woman has a circle of babies that goes around and around above her head, and those are all the possible babies she could have in her whole life. Every month, one of those babies is first in line. If she gets pregnant, then that’s the baby that’s born. If she doesn’t get pregnant, the baby goes back into the circle and keeps going around with all the others. If she gets pregnant but something bad happens before the baby’s born…now listen, Mom, because here’s the really cool part. It goes back into the circle, but it becomes a Spirit Baby, and all the other babies give it cuts. Each month, it’s always first in line. Isn’t that great?
“So you just have to get pregnant again, and you’ll have the same Spirit Baby. If you don’t, though, then the baby circle will just beam that little Spirit Baby over to some other woman’s circle, and it’ll be first in line for her. It keeps being first in line somewhere until it finally gets born.
“But it’d be a shame for you not to have it yourself, because I know how much you want it. So you just have to try again. Mom, remember that baby you lost before I was born?” I nodded wordlessly. “Well, that was me. Really. I’ve always known I was a Spirit Baby. I mean, I know what I’m talking about here, Mom.”


This idea is apparently echoed across the globe, from different traditions, cultures and spiritual teachings.  It is thought to extend beyond just our children, but to anyone who we are tied to in spirit; that the spirits will be born and if we are meant to be together, there will be a connection somehow.  This belief has carried me in my journey.  Knowing that I will meet the little girl I dreamed about so vividly one night years ago.  If she is not brought into the world through my body, that perhaps, she will be my granddaughter or even a daughter in law...who is to say.  I simply have faith.

All that's left for me to say now is directed at anyone who knows someone who is going through this particular sort of loss, and sadly, it's more of you than you may realize.  It is estimated that 1 in 4 pregnancies end in loss in the USA, around 1 million each year*.   What I want to share with you is that, no matter what your relationship to this woman is, no matter how smart you are or how wise you think you are, there is nothing you can do.  You cannot fix it, so please don't try.  Please don't judge, analyse or harass the poor girl with questions...and if you must do these things, do them alone in your head...after you have left the grieving woman's presence.  If she is sharing her story with you, please listen with an open heart and your most empathetic ears.  She is not asking for advice unless she asks for advice.  She is not asking if her feelings are acceptable or irrational or too strong or too weak...unless she asks you those questions.  Just listen.  Just be there.  If you feel moved to emote something yourself, then that is your sharing your feelings, and that is fine...but she probably just wants to know that she said it out loud and managed to not fall apart, or maybe not...but you can't be sure, so best not to try to figure it out.  Support means acceptance and love, and sometimes "I am so sorry" is all we need to hear.  It helps us embrace the reality and allows us to mourn, without the pressure of expectation or fear of criticism.  The number of children a woman has can be a deeply personal and spiritual choice, and often, not a choice at all, so as a general rule, people should curb their opinions on that matter all together.
There really is nothing to say, but "I'm here for you", so if you can't say that, please, don't say anything.  If it's a matter of feeling useful or offering your help, maybe offer to take her existing children somewhere, or offer to help out around the house...basically the same things a new mother needs; back up, so she can tend to the new situation.  I have been so blessed to have an active husband and father for our children, who can work from a home office at the moment, so I've been able to take care of myself and have support knowing that everyone is getting what they need.  No matter what is going on for me, I need to know my children are cared for, so I can relax and focus on my needs.

I have to return to real time now.  Two vibrant, healthy little boys await their mommy's return to life in progress.  The past few days have been like a trip through suspended animation, watching everything happen around me like I wasn't really here; my mind traveling that fine line between worlds.  
To anyone who is reading this and can relate to my story, I am truly sorry, but just know that you are not alone.  If we share our experiences with one another, maybe women in the future will not have to feel shame or the solitude that often comes with such loss.
So, I'm ending this journal entry from my life with some words from the very spirit of childhood and love...

                         "If ever there is tomorrow when we're not together.. there is something you must always                              remember. You are braver than you believe, stronger than you seem, and smarter than you think. but the most important thing is, even if we're apart.. I'll always be with you." 
                                                                      ~ Winnie the Pooh (A.A. Milne)


* http://www.hopexchange.com/Statistics.htm

Being My Child's First Teacher

This is an exciting day for me.  I have been hemming and/or hawing over this question of "what to do about Kindergarten" for over a year...and we still don't have a confident 100% answer, but more than ever, I am ready, or at least, ready to be ready.

My 5 year old son and I have begun our home-kindy trial period.  I have a curriculum from a trusted source and since he would be doing a two-year program due to his age anyway, we are starting now and then plan to do the full year from fall to next spring when he will be in the 5-6 age bracket.  Had we the thousands and thousands of dollars at hand, I would enroll my son in the full time program at an actual Waldorf school.  I vowed that my children would have an education that was holistic, and if I have to teach them myself, I will do it.

After all, I AM a teacher.  I have taught preschool, I have taught Drama to children ages 5-16, I have a Bachelors degree in Educational Theater which included several basic education courses.    Also, I am qualified to be their teacher is because I already HAVE been.  Parents are the first teachers of children.  "Teaching" them in a formal seeming sense is simply putting some structure to what is already there.

I still have a lot of work to do, don't get me wrong.  Planning a Waldorf Homeschool environment for my family is a little scary, but it's also exciting and FUN!  The key seems to be to know yourself as well as possible.  Just to run a household I have to be brutally honest with myself about what I need to do, so I can get things done, or they don't happen.  I need an outline.  I need lists.  I need external accountability   These are the things which hold me on track.  Any time I don't have those things, I fall off the wagon onto the street and get trampled by a horse...metaphorically of course.  In a conversation my husband and I had one of the many "should we homeschool" discussions, the very important point of "we can't screw this up" came into play.  As in, "this is their education, there can be no slacking off".  The thing is, how is that any different than raising the children? I mean, if I am qualified to change them, nurse them, keep them alive day in and day out...then guiding them into the important lessons of life and learning ABCs are simply an extension of that in my view.
The bottom line is however; not everyone sees it that way or feels they are up to the span of duties.

I know a few homeschoolers who might disagree.  I've heard them say that they don't understand people shipping their children off to someone else for school all day opting to miss being a part of that learning process day in and day out...but I'm not one of those homeschoolers.  I totally get it.
Even looking at things from a tribal perspective, where our roots come from; every village had a healer, a priest (often the same person) warriors, and teachers.  It takes the village to raise the children because they are part of a whole, and the Teacher is an archetype and can not be the ideal role for every person who bares children.
There is however also the definition of "teacher" to be examined.  The Teacher, in my view, is patience, kindness, wisdom, and knowledge, assembled with confident leadership; a guide to usher the child into the world.  In the Waldorf model of education, this is both the description of the mother and the teacher.  The child learns from the adult modeling with intention, not from a lecture monster in a tweed jacket...so there is little difference between an attentive, home maker parent and a Waldorf Kindergarten teacher...and that was the intention!  In fact, I read a description once which clearly stated that  * the Kindergarten was meant to replicate a pre-industrial rural home life.  Hence the hand churned butter and the slow paced, simple living style   
As the grades progress, it becomes very clear that Stiener's educational model saw the value of naturally unfolding learning for children as they might have in the home.  Strictly speaking, a Waldorf student would have the same teacher from grade 1 through grade 8.  That is so the teacher can really KNOW the students and their challenges and strengths,  so the student can build a trusting relationship with their teacher as a mentor and, lets be honest here, a surrogate parent for those long days.

As a person who believes in the parent-child bond as vital to overall health, I find there is an easy transition  from being a child's usher into life, to then ushering them into history, science and reading.  The world will unfold to our children no matter what, and I want to be there as it does, and ensure that they are allowed to unfold along with it.

We shall see where this leads us, but for now, this is a journey for my whole family, and I couldn't be more excited.
        

Happy Happy, Joy Joy

I just read a piece by Devon Corneal entitled "The Pursuit of Happiness"
She cites a phrase that is often uttered by parents in day to day life; "I just want my kids to be happy!"  
"Happiness" is then described as this shallow, surface reaction to life...as if one who is a happy person just walks around with a goofy smile all day and laughs everything off in a haze of selfishness.  This left me wondering if the author has herself, ever actually BEEN happy...I mean, truly happy.  I don't know Ms. Corneal whatsoever, so I should not speculate as to her life experience or her personal feelings, but based on this take on what she hears when the word "happiness" is thrown around, it is clear to me that she and I have very different ideas of what this feeling entails.

You see, in my life, I have generally described myself as a "happy person".  I was raised in a loving home, with loving extended family and taught to have a positive outlook on life, no matter what is thrown my way...and plenty was thrown my way over the years.  My father was barely present in my life, I had great social difficulty from toddlerhood on, but still,  I was a "happy" baby and then a "happy" child, meaning, things did not keep me down for long.  I was always quick to laugh and quick to find joy in things.   Something else that might shock the author of the aforementioned piece is that this "happy" child grew into a teenager who dabbled in industrial music and the "goth" lifestyle...this was all after overcoming an elementary school career of bullying and social ostracization.  Still though, I was the "candy goth" of the group; black nail polish and black lipstick with a unicorn t-shirt and rainbow bright shoe laces.  I was just never angry enough to loose the bounce in my gothic-two-step.  Deep down, I was still a happy person...no matter what, and I didn't quite understand those who chose cynicism and negativity as their companion in their every day lives until very recently.
    After finishing college and getting married, I had two beautiful little boys...and that brings us to me today...where I have been battling depression and feeling and thinking in ways I never thought I would.  Let me tell you, "happiness" is something that one really appreciates when it proves elusive.  Having experienced a near 30 year stretch of being a "basically happy person", I can tell you with all certainty, that I do want my children to be happy.  Not because it's more fun (which it is) or because it's self indulgent (which it's not), but because our ability to BE happy is a gift, and barring chemical imbalance, happiness is a choice (and even then...)!  The article also makes reference to Dali Lama, and how he preaches the pursuit of happiness.  As a student of Buddhism myself, I find it poignant that even with the words of one of the wisest men alive, the essence of happiness, of joy and of "finding ones bliss" is disregarded again, because of this limited perception of what a happy person is.  When I hear someone say "I want to be happy" or "I just want my children to be happy", I understand that to mean a deeper, more fixed sense of overall well being, not the transient state of "yay!" that one might feel scoring in a game or finding a lost sock.  Maybe I'm completely off here, but somehow, I doubt the many many people who utter those words are thinking "gee! I hope my children grow up to never have a bad moment or an uncomfortable encounter, ever!".  Not only would that be insane, it would also be impossible!

I felt moved to write this retort of sorts, partly because I disagreed with most of what she said, but also because there have been times in my life where I believe being a happy person was the reason some people dismissed me, as a person; as if my happiness, my ability to be happy meant that life was easy for me or that things were just "handed" to me left and right.  I found that over the years, those people were the most miserable, needing to mock and bully those of us who perhaps, possessed this imaginary thing which they could not comprehend, perhaps because they were not shown or taught by example, how to BE happy.  And guess what?  I have also found that when I choose to be happy, good things ARE handed to me, left and right, along side those that I work very, very hard to achieve.  The universe manages to fulfill even material wishes at times when we are open to anything, and willing to find joy in it.  That is why happiness is seen as a choice; it's the difference between just going through your day and making a conscious effort to find joy in anything you can.

I do agree with Ms. Corneal's notion of pursuing meaning, to be sure, but I would have said "purpose".    Purpose is something which drives us toward happiness, toward deeper fulfillment, contributing to the whole of humanity in our own way.  If I indulge a need to knit pick on words, I admit to sharing the author's critical feelings when people say "just have fun!".  Life is not about "having fun" and "fun" can be had at another's expense.  That to me rings of that self-serving, so-called "hedonistic" mentality she relates to a state of happiness.  I want my children to find purpose...and find happiness in that purpose.  In my opinion, that is the not-so-secret of life.  Happiness is a choice, so in the end...yes...I want my children to learn to be happy, no matter what comes their way, because I believe the path to happiness is acceptance and serenity.  True happiness is contagious, not selfish.  It is my belief that those who try to douse the happiness of others are the miserable ones, trying to blot out the light.  But like a child chasing his own shadow, it takes an awakening for us to see that we are all connected, and the joy lies within us always.  The choice is whether we leave that door open or slam it shut.