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Friday, October 26, 2012
{this moment} Autumn Walks
{this moment} - A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Wednesday, October 17, 2012
Avoiding Mothering Burn-Out
In case it's not abundantly clear on this here blog, I am fully a Type A personality: intense, driven, focused. My goal for the next 35 years of my life is to become Type B (or at least A-); to be more like those calm, easy-going, free-spirited types.
Believe it or not, I think motherhood will get me there. It already has to some extent. With three little ones running around, I almost have to become a bit more zen about things. But I am also trying to take deliberate steps (yes I know, sounds very Type A-ish) to chill-out more, to care less about household messes, to buy tortillas instead of always making them, to allow the laundry pile to mount without stressing about it, to let my three-year-old have his peanut butter sandwich rather than worrying about him not eating his kale, to allow screen time when I feel my inner temperature gauge rising, to relax, slow down, chill.
I think it's important, every now and again, to take stock of the stresses and rewards in our lives, to acknowledge the things that bring us joy and those that cause us angst, to recognize the actions we are doing out of love and those we are doing out of ego. And I think it's especially important for mothers to do this, to make certain that we are really enjoying this precious and temporary time with our children, gaining great pleasure from being with them rather than worrying about that boiling pot or that unswept floor.
It's very easy to get burned out at this job. There are endless to-dos, continuous demands, sudden surprises. There are conflicts to resolve, interests to manage, feelings to acknowledge. There are no holidays, no sick days, no overtime credits. There's no quitting and no boss to blame. It can get overwhelming. And for us Type A-ers, those of us who strive to do everything fully and to perfection, it can sometimes get suffocating.
This is a long and wonderful journey and I don't want to get burnt-out. So I've been listing my priorities (yes, more Type A-ness) and I realize that the things that are most important to me (homeschooling, spending lots of time learning alongside my children, centering our time around our treasured triad of family, community and the natural world) need to be the primary focus of my days, not, for example, finding a hundred ways to cook and eat squash in my full-blown attempt to eat a completely seasonal diet.
I'm chilling out. Or at least trying to.
What about you?
Believe it or not, I think motherhood will get me there. It already has to some extent. With three little ones running around, I almost have to become a bit more zen about things. But I am also trying to take deliberate steps (yes I know, sounds very Type A-ish) to chill-out more, to care less about household messes, to buy tortillas instead of always making them, to allow the laundry pile to mount without stressing about it, to let my three-year-old have his peanut butter sandwich rather than worrying about him not eating his kale, to allow screen time when I feel my inner temperature gauge rising, to relax, slow down, chill.
I think it's important, every now and again, to take stock of the stresses and rewards in our lives, to acknowledge the things that bring us joy and those that cause us angst, to recognize the actions we are doing out of love and those we are doing out of ego. And I think it's especially important for mothers to do this, to make certain that we are really enjoying this precious and temporary time with our children, gaining great pleasure from being with them rather than worrying about that boiling pot or that unswept floor.
It's very easy to get burned out at this job. There are endless to-dos, continuous demands, sudden surprises. There are conflicts to resolve, interests to manage, feelings to acknowledge. There are no holidays, no sick days, no overtime credits. There's no quitting and no boss to blame. It can get overwhelming. And for us Type A-ers, those of us who strive to do everything fully and to perfection, it can sometimes get suffocating.
This is a long and wonderful journey and I don't want to get burnt-out. So I've been listing my priorities (yes, more Type A-ness) and I realize that the things that are most important to me (homeschooling, spending lots of time learning alongside my children, centering our time around our treasured triad of family, community and the natural world) need to be the primary focus of my days, not, for example, finding a hundred ways to cook and eat squash in my full-blown attempt to eat a completely seasonal diet.
I'm chilling out. Or at least trying to.
What about you?
Monday, October 15, 2012
up north
We spent the past several days up north, enjoying autumn's colors and crispness in the woods, hills and farms of New Hampshire.
The city has a lot to offer, but acres upon acres of protected forest in the backyard isn't one of them, and for that it was nice to get away, breathe the fresh mountain air, admire cozy country villages, and spend as much time as possible in the woods.
When planning our little fall family getaway, I researched various spots that would offer a remote respite with plenty of conservation trails and simple village conveniences. I also searched for places near to local, sustainable farms from which we could purchase some of our food during our trip. The fact that an overly-welcoming, beyond-organic farm supplying diversified farm foods was closer than the nearest supermarket sold me on the quaint New England town we ultimately chose, and offered us an afternoon of farm-life to complement our time in the forest.
Our small city car broke down during our getaway and is currently being serviced at a garage near the village we visited. The good news is that it means we will need to take another trip up north to return the rental car and retrieve our (hopefully repaired) sedan, which leads to more opportunities for hiking leaf-covered trails, enjoying farm-fresh foods, gathering kindling for an evening of S'mores by the fire, and enjoying the richness of autumn up north.
Thursday, October 11, 2012
How Learning Happens
I got an email from a blog reader recently who is at a homeschooling crossroad. She has been at home with her young children, fully immersed in her local attachment parenting and homeschooling communities, and thinking about the future. Kindergarten applications for next fall are due soon to both her urban public and private schools, and she is wondering if she should continue on her current unschooling path or choose a more traditional education route for her oldest child. This crossroad is something many homeschoolers encounter, whether in the early years of opting out of preschool and kindergarten, or later when deciding whether or not to send an older child to a formal middle school or high school program.
"My husband's biggest concern," this reader writes, "is how life goes on, younger siblings are nourished, and learning happens."
The intensity of life with young children, the constancy of needs and demands, can make it seem nearly impossible to meet a child's educational needs while managing a busy household and tending to younger siblings. That is, until we realize that meeting our children's educational needs is something we parents have been doing masterfully since the day they came to us.
We shower our children with love and affection. We respond to their cries and tend to their needs. We listen. We watch. We create a home environment that sparks curiosity and we find community resources that expand our children's personal growth and imagination. As our children get older, we recognize the unique ways in which they learn best and we choose classes or curricula tailored to their learning styles. We settle into a natural family rhythm that incorporates younger siblings, other family members, and friends in everyday learning.
And then we see how learning happens. We see how our children's innate curiosity and drive to know and do propel them to learn. We see them acquire new skills and new passions. We see them nurture relationships with friends and siblings and community members. We see them learn to read, to understand mathematical concepts and patterns. We see them become increasingly interested in music and art, science and technology, history and geography, languages and current events. We see their energy when exploring the natural world around them. And then we see ourselves guiding them, facilitating their learning by identifying resources to augment their natural learning (library books, computer programs, community offerings, classes, activities, curriculum, etc.).
And then it gets easier. Children get older. Bigger siblings become more independent and autonomous--and helpful. Needs are met with less intensity. Daily, weekly, and seasonal rhythms are established based on family priorities and children's interests, and shift as necessary.
We see our children learning, growing, flourishing without formal schooling. We see family relationships strengthening. We see ourselves enjoying this path of natural learning together, collaborating as a family, seeing everyday occurrences as dynamic learning moments. We see happy, well-adjusted, inquisitive children growing and doing.
We see how life goes along, siblings are nourished, and learning happens naturally, rhythmically, beautifully without the need for schooling. That's how it happens.
"My husband's biggest concern," this reader writes, "is how life goes on, younger siblings are nourished, and learning happens."
The intensity of life with young children, the constancy of needs and demands, can make it seem nearly impossible to meet a child's educational needs while managing a busy household and tending to younger siblings. That is, until we realize that meeting our children's educational needs is something we parents have been doing masterfully since the day they came to us.
We shower our children with love and affection. We respond to their cries and tend to their needs. We listen. We watch. We create a home environment that sparks curiosity and we find community resources that expand our children's personal growth and imagination. As our children get older, we recognize the unique ways in which they learn best and we choose classes or curricula tailored to their learning styles. We settle into a natural family rhythm that incorporates younger siblings, other family members, and friends in everyday learning.
And then we see how learning happens. We see how our children's innate curiosity and drive to know and do propel them to learn. We see them acquire new skills and new passions. We see them nurture relationships with friends and siblings and community members. We see them learn to read, to understand mathematical concepts and patterns. We see them become increasingly interested in music and art, science and technology, history and geography, languages and current events. We see their energy when exploring the natural world around them. And then we see ourselves guiding them, facilitating their learning by identifying resources to augment their natural learning (library books, computer programs, community offerings, classes, activities, curriculum, etc.).
And then it gets easier. Children get older. Bigger siblings become more independent and autonomous--and helpful. Needs are met with less intensity. Daily, weekly, and seasonal rhythms are established based on family priorities and children's interests, and shift as necessary.
We see our children learning, growing, flourishing without formal schooling. We see family relationships strengthening. We see ourselves enjoying this path of natural learning together, collaborating as a family, seeing everyday occurrences as dynamic learning moments. We see happy, well-adjusted, inquisitive children growing and doing.
We see how life goes along, siblings are nourished, and learning happens naturally, rhythmically, beautifully without the need for schooling. That's how it happens.
Friday, October 5, 2012
{this moment} City Boy
{this moment} - A single photo capturing a moment from the week. A simple, special, extraordinary moment. A moment I want to pause, savor and remember.
Visit SouleMama for more "moments" and to share your own...
Wednesday, October 3, 2012
Homeschooling and Younger Siblings
My criteria when selecting our homeschool classes this fall included making sure that there would be plenty of fun things for my two little guys to do while my oldest participated in her own programs. I wanted to avoid a scenario of dropping-off my daughter at her class and waiting around in the lobby of some building with two squirmy siblings, so when I discovered some wonderful homeschool programs sponsored by the Massachusetts Audubon Society, it was a win-win for all of us.
My older daughter enjoys two hours of weekly nature exploration and related projects with two instructors and a small class of eight homeschooled children roughly her age, including some of her good friends, while the little ones and I--along with some of my homeschool-mom friends--spend those two hours exploring the same woods and enjoying our connection with nature. This particular wildlife sanctuary, not too far from the city, is a place we visit as a family often and so it is especially nice to see weekly, seasonal changes in this space throughout autumn.
Juggling the dynamic needs and interests of young children while making sure that our time together is fully maximized can take some doing. Urban homeschoolers are particularly fortunate to have many class options and resources available to make this balancing act a bit easier. Homeschool classes at local museums, for example, can offer drop-off opportunities for older siblings while the other children explore the exhibits. Classes near vibrant urban centers provide time to explore local libraries, bookstores, universities, open spaces, and historic and cultural resources. Outdoor and nature exploration classes enable time in nature to be shared while meeting the needs of each sibling. With some research and planning, there can be many ways to craft optimal learning experiences for younger siblings while the older ones spread their wings.
For those of you homeschooling with children of different ages and interests, how do you manage your time with your other children while a sibling is off at a class?
Monday, October 1, 2012
Miscarriage Awareness Month
October is National Pregnancy and Infant Loss Awareness Month, as designated by President Reagan in 1988 to "inform and provide resources for parents who have lost children due to miscarriage, ectopic pregnancy, molar pregnancy, stillbirths, birth defects, SIDS, and other causes.”
I had a first trimester miscarriage when my oldest was just over a year old and I thought I was the only person in the world to have one. Not many people knew of my pregnancy and I didn't mention the miscarriage to most. Luckily, I found support on an online miscarriage support discussion group and began to realize that miscarriage is much more common than I had previously thought. In fact, sadly up to 1 in 5 women will experience a first trimester miscarriage.
When I became pregnant with my son after the miscarriage, I made it a point to start mentioning my previous miscarriage in discussions about the tenseness of the first trimester. And, lo and behold, I discovered that lots of women I knew had miscarriages.
A miscarriage is one of those sad and tumultuous experiences that is too often suffered in silence, leading to more fear, more doubt, more sadness, and, too often I think, to more medicalization of pregnancy and birth. Instead of allowing me to recognize miscarriage as Nature's wise checks-and-balances system, it caused me to become more distrustful of my body and of birth. It wasn't until the natural homebirth of my third baby that I finally realized the innate power and wisdom of our bodies, and recognized that miscarriage is often a part of that process.
I had a first trimester miscarriage when my oldest was just over a year old and I thought I was the only person in the world to have one. Not many people knew of my pregnancy and I didn't mention the miscarriage to most. Luckily, I found support on an online miscarriage support discussion group and began to realize that miscarriage is much more common than I had previously thought. In fact, sadly up to 1 in 5 women will experience a first trimester miscarriage.
When I became pregnant with my son after the miscarriage, I made it a point to start mentioning my previous miscarriage in discussions about the tenseness of the first trimester. And, lo and behold, I discovered that lots of women I knew had miscarriages.
A miscarriage is one of those sad and tumultuous experiences that is too often suffered in silence, leading to more fear, more doubt, more sadness, and, too often I think, to more medicalization of pregnancy and birth. Instead of allowing me to recognize miscarriage as Nature's wise checks-and-balances system, it caused me to become more distrustful of my body and of birth. It wasn't until the natural homebirth of my third baby that I finally realized the innate power and wisdom of our bodies, and recognized that miscarriage is often a part of that process.
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