"Prevent summer learning loss..."

Oh dear goodness.

Yep. This one is about "education."

At Barnes and Noble today Miss H wanted a workbook. Whatever. It used to make my skin crawl a bit, but I realized that if I truly believe in child-lead learning, this means I have to let her lead, even if it's not in the direction I'd choose.

And the girl likes workbooks.

Okay.

I find it weird and bizarre, but I love her and she's a wiz, and she does do other things with her life (like ready. All. Day. Long), so it's okay.

Can you tell I sometimes need to reassure myself of this?

Anyway, I was flipping through it when we got home, mostly because I realized that the cover says it teaches "fitness" and I wanted to make sure it was something I found appropriate and not also including health/nutrition which I don't agree with what is taught at all. Anyway, I digress.

This book specifically is a "summer workbook." What bothered me immediately is that it states, "School stops for the summer, but learning never should!" and then is followed by "Prevent summer learning loss without our award-winning, best-selling summer learning series!"

Really?

I mean, really!?

Kids aren't learning unless they're in school?

Kids aren't learning unless they are doing worksheets like little drones?

Kids aren't learning every day, just by living?

Geez.

How in the world did my kids learn how to walk and talk? How did they learn to build blocks and do somersaults and bake cookies and cut vegetables? How did they learn their shapes and colors and ABC's? How did they ever learn how to make patterns and the concepts of basic addition and subtraction?

Because they haven't learned any of these things from workbooks or from being in school.

I despise that there are companies, people, making a profit off of other people's fears that their kids aren't "learning" enough, fast enough, and that the only way to do it is by jamming more busy work down their throats and restricting their free play.

Playing is work!

Kids learn everything they need to know by playing. By following their own interests.

If you let them, if you trust them enough, no human being will not learn what they need learn when they need to learn it.

Of course, sometimes that also means you have to trust them enough to let them choose to do pages out of a workbook, too.

It's a pretty vicious cycle, I'm telling ya.

Cancer ouchies

We believe in always telling our children the truth, but sometimes I feel like we are teetering on such a fine and gray line.

And everyone has a different truth.

For example, when poor Duckie met his untimely demise last month, I told 3-year-old H that he went to a better place - Heaven. I very much believe in God. So I teach that to my children as a truth.

Many people do not believe in God. They'd think teaching my children about Him is lying. To each their own on religion. But the point is, no two people have the same truths, no matter the circumstance.

Well, this past week I was put in the situation where I had to explain breast cancer to sweet H. As my maternal grandmother underwent a mastectomy, and my children and I waited at the hospital with my dad, H was all too aware that we were there for my grandma. B was blissfully in the Land of La La where he can often be found.

So when H asked why were there (she's only ever been in a hospital once, at the age of 5 weeks old when I had to have a staph infected milk duct drained, and obviously has no recollection of that), I explained it the best that I could, without lying, but without scaring her either.

"My grandma has an ouchie on her booby and the doctors are going to cut the ouchie off to make her all better," I told her.

"She'll be better if they cut the ouchie off? Why don't they just give her a Band-Aid?" H inquired.

"This is a different kind of ouchie," I explained. "It's not bloods (which is what H calls all ouchies that need Band-Aids). It's an ouchie inside her booby that has to come out. The doctors will take it out and she'll be better."

"Will it hurt?"

"Well, they'll put her to sleep so that she doesn't feel them cut it off. So that won't hurt her. She might be sore when she wakes up. Maybe even sad."

"But we'll bring her flowers, and that will make her happy?" H beamed.

I smiled. "Yes. That will make her very happy."

That's it. That's all we discussed of it. H was there. She was a part of the event. It's her great-grandmother. She's old enough and aware enough to need an explanation. But not old enough or aware enough, in my opinion, to need to know or understand cancer.

Right or wrong, I don't know.

But for now, it's her truth.

And maybe in 5 or 10 or 40 years from now we will revisit this particular truth. And it will change as she understands breast cancer and surgeries and recoveries and the mental and emotional impact it all has, as well as the physical impact, of course.

But for now, at 3, the truth is that her great-grandma had an ouchie. And now she's fixed.

And that's all she needs to know.

The war on telling little girls they're pretty

There seem to be a lot of articles circulating lately about how you shouldn't tell children, most especially girls, how cute they are. That it diminishes their self worth. It causes them to focus on only aesthetic beauty and not their minds or hearts. That over all, the signal your giving is just wrong.

I agree.

Sort of.

Okay, I actually agree a ton. I dislike hearing people tell H a million and two times in one day how beautiful she is. I mean, I like it, because she is beautiful. And I tell her that a million times a day myself. But she is so much more than just her physical beauty.

So I agree that people should focus on more than just the physical beauty. But at the same time, how is a stranger supposed to focus on anything else? They don't know my child. They can't say, "Wow, you're a very kind girl." Or, "Oh, you're so intelligent or brave." She is those things too, of course. But if someone doesn't actually know her, then saying this is not being truthful. But if they can see her then of course they can comment on her cuteness.

I'm very guilty of doing this. Most especially with babies. A friend of mine had a little girl born on H's birthday this year and every. single. time I see her, I remark, "Oh my goodness, she's just so pretty!" I can't help it. She is pretty. I don't know her personality yet. I have nothing else to comment on other than her beauty, so I get it.

I know there is the camp that says if you can't comment on anything "worthwhile" (beauty isn't worthwhile in this camp) then to simply say nothing. Or state an observation.

And while I think that's a great option, I don't think that's the instinctual option most people have.

And although I find it crazy imperative that children, most especially girls, know that there is more to them than just beauty, I think it's important that they know they're beautiful, too.

It's something insane like 40% of 3 year olds know what "fat" is and about the same number of 6 year olds want to go on a diet. That floors me. And disgusts me. And makes me wonder what we as a society are doing so wrong.

Because I tell my daughter she's beautiful. Every day. But she has no concept of fat or overweight or diets. Just beauty. And she thinks everyone is beautiful.

Every night as I tuck her into bed I tell her, "You have a beautiful brain, a beautiful heart, and a beautiful outside." (I heard another momma say this once and really loved it). She knows that using her brain and being kind with her heart are important things. They are good things and respectable things.

But she also knows she's beautiful.

Because if we don't tell little girls they're beautiful, then what are we telling them?

That they're not?

I think it's important that they know they are gorgeous, inside and out. That they don't have to fit into some "ideal" image of what a girl is supposed to look like in order to be beautiful.

If we teach girls that they're beautiful while they're young, and not just that they are beautiful, but that all females are beautiful, then it won't be something we have to try and desperately help them to believe when they're all grown up, and realizing that the photo shopped images of beauty aren't real or attainable. But they're beautiful just as they are.

So although I wish that the strangers who take the 5 seconds to comment on my sweet girl's beauty could get to really know her. To know what a funny, serious, determined, empathetic young girl she is, I also get why all they say is, "Oh my goodness, you're so pretty!"

And it's okay.

Because she is.

All girls, young and old, are.

And they should be told.

Daily.

My kids are not trick ponies

I know that people sometimes just don't know what else to say, but it is ever so annoying when others, typically adults, feel compelled to "quiz" children.

I dislike when people say, "H, can you tell me the letters in the this word?" or "B, can you point to your nose?" Etc. Etc.

My kids are not trick ponies. They are not here for the purpose of performing. If they want to spell the word out for you or acknowledge where a body part is, fantastic. If you're just playing a game, okay, not a big deal so long as my babe wants to participate.

But so often it seems people are just interested in what they "know."

It's doesn't matter!

They know what they need to know. At their own pace. On their own agenda.

So I get it's cute to ask little B to sing his ABC's, or for H to sing them in Spanish, and if they want to, hey, it's fine.

But don't push it if they don't want to.

And chances are they know it. They're just not going to tell you because they know it isn't their job to perform.

Even if other people don't.

Tired

Today has been a hard day in the land of motherhood. I'm pretty sure that's some kind of sin to actually admit, but alas, I'm no saint.

If one word could sum up my current feelings it is TIRED.

I'm tired of being patient.

I'm tired of being kind.

I'm tired of being understanding.

I'm tired of parenting alone (only two weeks down, 4.5 more to go).

I'm tired of having no one reliable who I can depend on around for days like today when I'm about to lose my freaking mind.

So yes, I'm tired. Exhausted.

And if I hear one more freaking person who has never had children utter that they are tired I'm likely to club a baby seal. If you don't have, or never have had children, you can't play the tired card. You just can't.

60 year olds whose children are long grown can say they're tired. Because they know what it means. They've experienced it. And they know it's not a word to be flung around lightly. So they only use it when they truly mean it.

I thought I new tired before kids.

I had no freaking clue.

(And don't worry, despite being tired, I am being patient and kind. Understanding might be a far stretch for today though.)

"Learning time"

For reasons I don't even know or understand, teaching my children to read is the most daunting task of being responsible for their education. (Though regardless of what type of "schooling" you choose, I realize that I, the parent, am ultimately responsible for all areas of their education).

It's extremely silly, I know. J tries to be sympathetic, but he just smiles and tells me everything is going to be just fine.

Because it is.

H is a young three. And long before she even ever turned three she all ready recognized the alphabet, knew all the sounds they made, and could sound out small words. And this was all on her own. I didn't sit her down and do drills or anything.

And still, I'm daunted.

H wants to learn to read. She's been saying this for a while, but now she is more adamant. She wants to "really read" books. (Because she opens books and makes up her own stories or repeats them from memorization all the time).

This girl floors me mostly. But I'm trying to just go with the flow and follow her lead. She long ago sailed through the pre-reader BOB books that her godmother sent her. I bought the Level 1 ones for her, and we also have the kindergarten Hooked on Phonics (also from her godmother). I haven't pulled them out for her, but that's my goal today during nap time (did I mention these kids have miraculously both been napping for the past few weeks? It's probably because they insist on 5am wake ups...).

So I'm going through all these books, trying to figure out the best strategy to teach her to read. Because although I keep telling her that all the things we do in every day life is teaching her to read (reading the signs outside, tracing letters, reading books, etc., etc.) she insists on more.

She is my "more" child.

Though it's frustrating because she's a perfectionist and so easily frustrated. She practices writing her letters all. the. time. She wants to write too...

But she gets so upset when they're flawed. When she gets the "b" wrong or the line on the "p" is more centered. It's the end. of. the. world. Epic meltdowns ensue.

I just tell myself that their are lots of positives to being a perfectionist as well.

They're just hard to remember when your tiny 3 year old is distraught over being, well, you know, 3.

But she's mandated that after nap times she will have "learning time." Because you know. she's not been learning anything in the past 3 years. Oy vey.

Honestly, I don't see this lasting. Because of that perfectionist gene. Because B will bother her. Because she'll just be 3 and make mistakes.

But because I'm her mom, I'll go along with it. And maybe she'll surprise me. Maybe this will stick.

Either way, she'll learn to read. I have no doubt about that. Because she is stubborn and determined and can and will do anything and everything she sets her mind to.

Which is daunting in a whole different way.

Non-punitive does not equal permissive

For some odd reason many people seem to equate non-punitive parenting to permissive parenting.

And it couldn't be farther from the truth.

I view non-punitive parenting as an extension of attachment parenting. Just the later years, as they grow out of infancy.

It means you value your children's emotions and words. You listen when they speak up about things, even if you disagree. You don't react brashly, especially to situations you actually didn't witness. You (rarely) give out arbitrary punishments. Time-out, grounding, spanking, etc., does very little to address the actual issue.

When my kids are crying, I'm there. When they throw tantrums, I let them. Tantrums are not unacceptable or punishable offenses. They're just how they are able to release their emotions.

When I ask H to do something and she doesn't like my request, I listen to her side of things. Typically, her side is completely reasonable. "I want to finish reading this book before I put my shoes on." "I want you to brush my hair before you brush my teeth." "I want you to help me pick up all of these dumped crayons." Etc., etc. Things that seem rather small and trivial to me quite honestly, but mean a whole lot to her. Waiting an extra two minutes while she reads a book is no big deal. Brushing her hair first or helping her pick up are such small things in the grand scheme of the world. Why make them into big deals? Why create a battle between us when we can use these moment to build our relationship positively?

If H or B comes to me tattling, I never assume they're lying. But I also never assume that the other party has done what they've been accused of. If I didn't see it, I don't know. So if H says B hit her, I help her with finding appropriate words to use in the future if such an event should occur again. I remind B of how much hitting hurts. But I don't dole out time-outs. It wouldn't make sense.

We do discipline our children. Very much so. The word discipline is derived from the word "disciple" which means "to lead." We lead our children every day to be kind, positive, helpful, compassionate human beings. We model kind manners for them and how to show others empathy.

When my children yell at me I don't yell back at them (though there are certainly times it is tempting!). I simply tell them that I do not speak to them in that tone, I'd appreciate not being spoken to like that, as well. Typically, that suffices.

I won't lie and say we never use consequences. Of course, we do. Typically it's natural consequences though. And not in a cruel manner.

I've heard of people allowing natural consequences to happen, but when they talk about it it is nearly spiteful if not downright mean.

For instance, before coming inside from playing outside we pick up our toys and chalk and put them away. One afternoon H was adamantly opposed to picking up her chalk, even with help. I calmly explained to her that it was supposed to rain and her chalk would turn to mush. Together, we could pick it up quickly and head inside. Again, she refused. So we went inside and left the chalk. Sure enough, the next morning, the chalk had disintegrated. She was disappointed, but also new she had a whole box of chalk inside in the closet (which might have made it easier for her to refuse to pick it up in the first place). She asked for the chalk and I gave it to her. But you know what, she hasn't so much as had to be reminded to pick up chalk before coming inside since that incident. I've even overheard her relaying to B a few times how it was necessary to pick it up or it would be ruined.

So it was a consequence. A mostly natural consequence. There were no power struggles between us or arbitrary punishments dished out. And she was forewarned of what would happen.

So there are consequences.

I still regress under stress and start counting to three. Of course, no one yet knows what happens when we get to that scary number three.

And I gave B his first time-out last week after a particularly stressful day of full on aggression. I called J, a little upset with myself and he simply reminded me that the rule of thumb in this house 1.) Love. 2.) Compassion. 3.) Love. 4.) Compassion. 5.) Consequence.

I remind myself daily that no person can control another human being. Yes, if they are afraid enough of you, you can likely get anyone to jump the second you ask of them. But that's not our goal in parenting. Instead, I just try to respect, respect, respect my children. In turn, they respect me. And thus typically have no qualms obeying when I ask something of them. Because they know we have a mutual respect for one another, and if they have an issue or opposition, I will listen. Because their issues and preferences and desires have value and will be heard.

We have structure and routines. We have meal times (though all day snacking), and bed times. The kids participate in organized activities and follow the rules and directions set up by other people.

It's not perfect. I'm not perfect.

During the most difficult moments I often have to stop and ask myself if I'm behaving in a way that is making my relationship with my children stronger, or weaker. Is this moment helping the adult my children will grow into, or just helping me?

As I've told J a million times, I believe so strongly and passionately in a way of parenting without punishments or (arbitrary) consequences at all. I've just not quite figure out how to make it work with our family. Or with me.

I haven't figured out how to 100% reprogram myself from my previous beliefs and ideas that I was raised with.

But I'm working on it.

But regardless. Even if I ever get to that place of 100%, we still wouldn't be permissive parents. Permissive parents don't have structure or rules. They don't teach compassion, they teach "me me me." And trust me, that's not the kind of parent I am. It's not the kind of parent J is. We're not "traditional," but we're also not stupid. We want to raise human beings who are successful on their own terms. Who are not "me-centric" and who think of the consequences to their actions and words.

So no. Permissive and non-punitive do not equate each other.

Not even remotely.

(And as I've said, we're not perfectly non-punitive anyway).