I'm starting to think about Frances's party this year, a month away. I don't think I ever posted a picture of last year's fairy cake, so I'm doing that now. Cuz it's lovely!
Saturday, August 25, 2012
Thursday, August 9, 2012
traveling trials
It's been a busy summer. Lots of travel, which I'm coming to realize is going to be the theme of our summers for some time now (various reasons for this). That's okay I think. But it does wear the kids out, so I'm going to have to be more strategic about the schedule.
A short recap of the summer thus far:
Clark's school finished a week before Frances', so he and I had a week to hang out with not much to do. Then immediately after Frances' school ended, the kids did 2 weeks at a summer day camp (with which I am in love). The next week my mom and aunt were here, then a 2 day break before my dad and his wife came, then 3 days before we packed up and drove to Michigan to stay with Mitch's parents.
Then, as I have mentioned before, something extraordinary happened. Mitch and I drove back to Rochester without the kids. I've been away from them a good bit, but always when I've gone away, and not for almost a whole week in my own house.
It was a very quiet week. And when I straightened things up, they stayed straight! Magic! One of the first nights we hung out with some friends at the pool, then decided (impromptu!) to go out to a nice dinner. (The restaurant was crowded so we sat at the bar and I realized the folks all around me were folks I never ever see in this town. They are at work when I'm out and about, and they go out while I do bedtime routines at home. It was like a secret glimpse into another planet.) Then we had to drop something by a friends' house and they invited us in and we stood around and talked as long as we liked! It felt so... odd.
It's a funny thing, this having young kids. Because they move so fast and need you so much, it's very hard to look around and get a lay of the land. It's like a sport, an intense physical activity. Focus focus focus. But with a sport, the game ends and you get to relax. Not here, as anyone who has done this knows. Because the focus is so honed and because there is so little relaxation, your brain becomes confused, and you sort of forget that you're doing anything unusual. You start to think this crazy pace is normal. And you certainly lose any conception that it will ever ever ever be different.
So being in Rochester without the kids was very good for me, gave me a moment to see the forest from above rather than simply dodge tree after tree. What I discovered is that I am closer to the end of the forest path than I had realized. This knowledge renewed me immeasurably.
Which was good, because that next weekend we met Mitch's folks and the kids in Ohio for a family reunion / wedding reception / memorial service (all in 2 days). We arrived home from that on a Sunday near 11pm; Monday I unpacked and did laundry and repacked, and Tuesday morning I loaded the kids back up and drove to the Adirondacks for a Quaker retreat. Without Mitch.
When I drove off for the retreat I knew I was asking a lot of the kids. I wasn't sure how it would go, but it was important to me for us to be there. They had been away from home for 2 weeks solid, had tons of activity during that time, and were away from mom and dad the latter part, which I know is stressful for them. Yet, the retreat was going to have so many activities they would love: a 1/2 day summer camp filled with other children, plus a beach, plus archery and crafts and boating etc etc. There was a good chance it would go swimmingly.
It did not.
Clark, I suspect, had reached his limit before we even got in the car. Both he and Frances had moments of fun at the retreat, but both were also tired and Clark was very difficult. He refused to go to the morning camp (crafts! playground! giant bubbles!), which meant I had to take him with me to the discussion groups (which, let me remind you, are Quaker and therefore spend at least 50% of their time in silence).
Frances, I have to say, was a gem. I LOVE this stage she is in. She is cooperative and good humored (for the most part) and helpful and charming. Unfortunately, this too will pass.
By Friday, though, I couldn't hold it together anymore. I wept pretty much through the entire morning discussion group. I tried to do it oh so quietly, but Clark, on my lap, kept turning around to look at me with slight alarm. Then he would say in his loud 4 year old voice, "why you crying, Mommy?" Afterwards I gratefully allowed one family to take Frances with them to the boathouse for singing, another to take Clark to the library to read, while I, all alone, paddled a kayak onto the bay. When I reached the middle, I lay the paddle across the boat and floated there. It was so quiet, the other boats far enough away that I couldn't hear their motors, mountains all around. It was wonderful.
I almost left a day early. I felt I was just asking too much of the kids, that they needed to be at home with familiar things and some kind of routine. I felt bad that I had put them in this position in the first place. While I wept into my plate during lunch, one of my friends commented that we don't know what our kids' limits are until they tell us. Yes, that's true. We do our best to read them and know what they can handle and what they can't, but it's not really until we give them a chance to show us that we know for sure.
I think these trials are worth it, weeping and all.
And now - now! - an german university student / au pair arrived a few days ago. More change! She's here for 2 months. Her arrival certainly warrants its own post and maybe will get one (who's to say?) but the abbreviated version is that it caused me more adjustment than I expected, and Clark lost his mind.
The reason it was hard for me is that I'm so used to doing everything on my own, to managing juggling fielding every. single. detail. every morsel the kids put in their mouths, everyone's safety-behavior-schedule-rest-cleanliness-overall mental and physical health, and I couldn't even tell her how to help me out. I couldn't stop long enough to figure out what would even be helpful. But we've gotten used to each other, and she's starting to understand how things go in the house and jump where she's needed. Plus, I had an appointment yesterday and left her alone with the kids for a couple of hours. PLUS her jet lag is waning. I kept reminding myself that, as much adjustment that her presence was causing me, she was most certainly more disoriented.
Clark - the poor guy just needs some calm and some normal. The au pair will eventually become normal of course, and then she will leave and everything will be adjustment and chaos and hollering again. So it goes.
I have some anxiety about the loneliness to come when she goes back to germany. They way I'm dealing with that is to remind myself that I could be smashed flat by a semi at any moment and there's no use being anxious about something that may never come to pass. In the meantime, I plan to be only thankful for the sudden two extra hands.
Friday, August 3, 2012
good feelings
Yesterday Frances (age 5 1/2) wrote a book for me. She's written books before - have I talked about them here? Her first was about a princess who had everything. Then a robber came and took her things, and then she had nothing. She was sad. Then she had an idea. She would go to the robber's hideout and get her things back. But first, she had to get her equipment. She got her stuff back.
There were pictures for every page. Her equipment was her purse.
The book she made for me yesterday didn't have any pictures. She told me that's because it was for adults. While she was making it she asked me how to spell many words but not enough so I knew what she was writing. None of the lines came from me, certainly. All her words.
It's called Good Feelings, and when she gave it to me she said she thought it could help me if I didn't know what to do. Here it is:
You should spend time with your family and not just hanging around. You should play with them and talk with them tell jokes and go places with them.
And have fun with them.
With boys you should wrestle and tell them to push things and tell them to kick a pillow.
With girls they just will draw a picture.
And with grown people they will keep a eye on themselves but under the age of 16 you have to take care of them.
The people are all different.
Some are rough and some are gentle.
Oh my goodness. Oh the joy it brings me.
The german university student arrives Monday. The kids are so excited. We skyped with her a couple of days ago and the kids love her to death already. I am hopeful it will go as well in person.
It's the heat of summer here and we have no air-conditioning. I love it. I love it as much as I love the deep snow, and both of these things are probably my favorite about living here. (no sarcasm) In the south the heat is so staggering that you can't not live in air-conditioning. And you have to carry a damn sweater with you although it's a thousand degrees outside because every restaurant / grocery store / indoor-facility-of-any-kind is kept at 50 degrees. Right now as I write this all the windows are open and the crickets are full on in the dark. I hope our German friend doesn't wilt up in the attic bedroom. But never to fear: we provide fans.
Full service, that's how we like to think of ourselves.
Friday, July 20, 2012
afternoon kindergarten
Got the letter yesterday from the public kindergarten Frances will be attending in the fall. The letter that tells us whether we've been assigned to afternoon or morning kindergarten. Around here everyone wants morning, which means that some people who request morning are not going to get it.
Kindergarten in our town is TWO HOURS LONG. I frankly don't know what that's about except maybe the economic and social breakdown of the district, and the fact that nearly all the kids have been to some kind of preschool and come in already knowing their letters at least. Whew, got those out of the way. Let's just cut a couple of hours off the kindergarten day since we don't have to teach them that! I'm told social skills are the things best imparted in kindergarten here, and I suppose two hours is plenty for that. Though, it seems to me, all they actually have time for is the teacher to take each kid to the bathroom once. Then it's time to go.
I wanted morning kindergarten because Clark (age 4) is going to be at the Waldorf school Tuesday through Friday mornings. If Frances were in school then also, I would have FOUR WHOLE MORNINGS with only me to keep track of. That alone time is something I've been waiting for. Waiting, holding out, hanging on. A time for me to find my own work in the world. (which brings us to the subject of a post soon to come: one's work in the world. My husband has his work, my kids (of course) have theirs. Mine of late has been helping the kids to do theirs best, but I've neglected my own work in the process.)
So when I got the letter - the one that said Frances had been assigned to afternoon kindergarten - I sat down and had a good cry. A really good cry. Then I went upstairs and threw myself across the bed and sobbed into the bedspread. I cried and cried, and then I plotted about who to speak with to get this changed.
In the next day or so, before I had a chance to call the school district, something interesting happened. I thought it through. I thought about literally what it would be like to have NO TIME TO MYSELF, to always have a kid with me, every day, morning and afternoon. Frances with me in the mornings, Clark with me in the afternoons. And what I saw was a door in the wall I hadn't seen before. What I saw was the experience of having an only child, which is a thing about which I have fantasized from time to time. And it's even better than that - it's two different only children! Variety! This way, I could actually do activities with Frances I've so wanted to; activities like baking bread and crafts projects. Plus being solo with a child provides opportunity for a kind of conversation and intimacy that's not possible when you're the shepherd of multiple.
And something else - my headaches creep in the afternoon. (sometimes they assault with heavy artillery rather than creep, but again, usually in the afternoon.) I'm much better in the morning. Frances is better in the morning. She and I can hang out together during the time when we are our best selves!
Suddenly the afternoon assignment sounded like a blessing. Besides, she will be home on the bus around 3 in the afternoon which means there will be plenty of afternoon left for Clark and Frances to have time to themselves. I did wonder about that - they are such close playmates; what was it going to be like for them to be apart so much? But in the end, they will have a couple of hours every afternoon to play Baby Sam and Sisters.
Sisters is the newest game. They both dress up in Frances's clothes and have tea parties and go on vacations and cook dinner and put their babies to bed. The story line does seem to come out in Frances's favor, which is interesting. They never play Brothers, or Knights, or Pirates.
But I digress.
In addition to alone time with the kids, I think the schedule is going to help me maintain a rhythm (at least in the mornings) better than I have been. We will do the same things each week. For example, Mondays we go to the gym (and they go to the kid play area), Tuesdays grocery, Wednesdays can be bread day (in order to keep to some of the waldorf schedule and activities, we will make bread), Thursdays library and errands, Fridays crafts. Or something like that. I don't know that the afternoons will be so orderly - will have to see.
I'm actually excited about it. How funny. How funny it is when we think we know what we're going to feel. It's for one year. I wonder if at the end I will wish it could go on like this?
Kindergarten in our town is TWO HOURS LONG. I frankly don't know what that's about except maybe the economic and social breakdown of the district, and the fact that nearly all the kids have been to some kind of preschool and come in already knowing their letters at least. Whew, got those out of the way. Let's just cut a couple of hours off the kindergarten day since we don't have to teach them that! I'm told social skills are the things best imparted in kindergarten here, and I suppose two hours is plenty for that. Though, it seems to me, all they actually have time for is the teacher to take each kid to the bathroom once. Then it's time to go.
I wanted morning kindergarten because Clark (age 4) is going to be at the Waldorf school Tuesday through Friday mornings. If Frances were in school then also, I would have FOUR WHOLE MORNINGS with only me to keep track of. That alone time is something I've been waiting for. Waiting, holding out, hanging on. A time for me to find my own work in the world. (which brings us to the subject of a post soon to come: one's work in the world. My husband has his work, my kids (of course) have theirs. Mine of late has been helping the kids to do theirs best, but I've neglected my own work in the process.)
So when I got the letter - the one that said Frances had been assigned to afternoon kindergarten - I sat down and had a good cry. A really good cry. Then I went upstairs and threw myself across the bed and sobbed into the bedspread. I cried and cried, and then I plotted about who to speak with to get this changed.
In the next day or so, before I had a chance to call the school district, something interesting happened. I thought it through. I thought about literally what it would be like to have NO TIME TO MYSELF, to always have a kid with me, every day, morning and afternoon. Frances with me in the mornings, Clark with me in the afternoons. And what I saw was a door in the wall I hadn't seen before. What I saw was the experience of having an only child, which is a thing about which I have fantasized from time to time. And it's even better than that - it's two different only children! Variety! This way, I could actually do activities with Frances I've so wanted to; activities like baking bread and crafts projects. Plus being solo with a child provides opportunity for a kind of conversation and intimacy that's not possible when you're the shepherd of multiple.
And something else - my headaches creep in the afternoon. (sometimes they assault with heavy artillery rather than creep, but again, usually in the afternoon.) I'm much better in the morning. Frances is better in the morning. She and I can hang out together during the time when we are our best selves!
Suddenly the afternoon assignment sounded like a blessing. Besides, she will be home on the bus around 3 in the afternoon which means there will be plenty of afternoon left for Clark and Frances to have time to themselves. I did wonder about that - they are such close playmates; what was it going to be like for them to be apart so much? But in the end, they will have a couple of hours every afternoon to play Baby Sam and Sisters.
Sisters is the newest game. They both dress up in Frances's clothes and have tea parties and go on vacations and cook dinner and put their babies to bed. The story line does seem to come out in Frances's favor, which is interesting. They never play Brothers, or Knights, or Pirates.
But I digress.
In addition to alone time with the kids, I think the schedule is going to help me maintain a rhythm (at least in the mornings) better than I have been. We will do the same things each week. For example, Mondays we go to the gym (and they go to the kid play area), Tuesdays grocery, Wednesdays can be bread day (in order to keep to some of the waldorf schedule and activities, we will make bread), Thursdays library and errands, Fridays crafts. Or something like that. I don't know that the afternoons will be so orderly - will have to see.
I'm actually excited about it. How funny. How funny it is when we think we know what we're going to feel. It's for one year. I wonder if at the end I will wish it could go on like this?
Sunday, July 15, 2012
summer fever
We are in Michigan now, staying at Mitch's folks' house. They live on a beautiful little lake with a pontoon boat and a paddle boat and a tire swing and hammock and a little beach with a dock to jump off and a whole lot of outdoor loveliness. It's pretty cool that the kids get to visit their grandparents here.
We've all been here together since Tuesday - 5 days ago - and the plan is that tomorrow Mitch and I will go home and leave the kids here.
When we made these plans I was so excited to be at home with my husband and no kids for the better part of a week. He'll be working, of course, but in the evenings we can go out to dinner if we want, at any point in the evening. We can sleep in! Nap mid afternoon! Run spontaneous errands! The plan, of course, is to get some projects done around the house.
But tonight I feel funny about it. I've been away from the kids before - many times - but always when I've gone away for a trip or something. I've never been away from them for any length of time when I was at home. I'm going to miss them.
And Frances is sick. Friday morning we went to see a play, and in the theater she was so cold she was shivering. (Luckily, as a holdover from my living in the south where summer means 50 degrees inside any building, I had a sweater in my bag.) That afternoon she slept and slept and when she woke her temperature was 102.
That was Friday. Today is Sunday, and her temp is still 102. She's a trooper about it, I have to say. We took her to urgent care yesterday to get a strep test, but it seems to be nothing more than a virus, so we're waiting for the fever to pass.
[If I may take a soap box moment here: I've stopped treating fevers. The fever is, after all, the body's way of killing the virus, so letting it run is best, the literature says. Unless it's crazy high, of course. In addition to that, bringing a fever down means the kid feels again like having pillow fights with her brother, so in addition to helping the kid heal, leaving the fever alone helps her get rest. Yet somehow the pharmaceutical companies and the doctors have most folks convinced that a fever gets tylenol immediately. Ridiculous what a hold they have on us.]
I've never before missed them. This has in the past disconcerted me a small bit. Funny - I've had the baby yearning so badly lately, but when they were babies I felt only relief about being away. Now, now that they are big and don't need me so much, now I will miss having them with me.
Perhaps it's all about my not having my own thing, which I definitely need to find. Who will I be if they're not with me?
Will be interesting to see how it goes, how I feel about it once we get back to NY.
We've all been here together since Tuesday - 5 days ago - and the plan is that tomorrow Mitch and I will go home and leave the kids here.
When we made these plans I was so excited to be at home with my husband and no kids for the better part of a week. He'll be working, of course, but in the evenings we can go out to dinner if we want, at any point in the evening. We can sleep in! Nap mid afternoon! Run spontaneous errands! The plan, of course, is to get some projects done around the house.
But tonight I feel funny about it. I've been away from the kids before - many times - but always when I've gone away for a trip or something. I've never been away from them for any length of time when I was at home. I'm going to miss them.
And Frances is sick. Friday morning we went to see a play, and in the theater she was so cold she was shivering. (Luckily, as a holdover from my living in the south where summer means 50 degrees inside any building, I had a sweater in my bag.) That afternoon she slept and slept and when she woke her temperature was 102.
That was Friday. Today is Sunday, and her temp is still 102. She's a trooper about it, I have to say. We took her to urgent care yesterday to get a strep test, but it seems to be nothing more than a virus, so we're waiting for the fever to pass.
[If I may take a soap box moment here: I've stopped treating fevers. The fever is, after all, the body's way of killing the virus, so letting it run is best, the literature says. Unless it's crazy high, of course. In addition to that, bringing a fever down means the kid feels again like having pillow fights with her brother, so in addition to helping the kid heal, leaving the fever alone helps her get rest. Yet somehow the pharmaceutical companies and the doctors have most folks convinced that a fever gets tylenol immediately. Ridiculous what a hold they have on us.]
I've never before missed them. This has in the past disconcerted me a small bit. Funny - I've had the baby yearning so badly lately, but when they were babies I felt only relief about being away. Now, now that they are big and don't need me so much, now I will miss having them with me.
Perhaps it's all about my not having my own thing, which I definitely need to find. Who will I be if they're not with me?
Will be interesting to see how it goes, how I feel about it once we get back to NY.
Thursday, July 12, 2012
how to get along with your brother
I taught Frances to say to Clark, "Let's not fight." She likes to be in charge of things, you know, so she likes to be the one to make sweeping statements that get results. She's tried it several times now, and generally when she says it Clark turns, leaves the room, and slams the door behind him. But it does end the argument. Once last week when she said it Clark just said, "Ok," and that was that. I wonder when Clark's going to start saying it to her?
Saturday, July 7, 2012
world waldorf
Friday, July 6, 2012
reading the kid
This is a post I wrote in the beginning of June, right as school was ending. I don't know why it didn't get posted, as it was supposed to appear before the last one. Well, here it is.
June 9, 2012
The thing we worry most about with Frances is that she's pretty controlling. When she plays with Clark or has friends over she announces what the play is going to be and assigns the roles. She's pretty good at it, and the kids mostly go along with it - interestingly. The problem is that when other folks don't want to play the same thing, she gets manipulative. Her teacher talked with us about this at the mid-year conference and we tried to figure out what was going on underneath that made her feel the need to control, but it was beyond me.
June 9, 2012
The thing we worry most about with Frances is that she's pretty controlling. When she plays with Clark or has friends over she announces what the play is going to be and assigns the roles. She's pretty good at it, and the kids mostly go along with it - interestingly. The problem is that when other folks don't want to play the same thing, she gets manipulative. Her teacher talked with us about this at the mid-year conference and we tried to figure out what was going on underneath that made her feel the need to control, but it was beyond me.
The end of school is an emotional time for everyone. Clark's last day was last Friday, and I cried when I gave the director her little sea salt chocolates present, as we've been there three years now (one for Frances and two for Clark) and we're moving on. Clark has been sad, telling me outright that he wants to stay at his current school rather than move to the Waldorf school where Frances has gone for the last two years. There's a post about that to come.
Yesterday was Frances' last day of school. She has been a little off all week, mostly being unkind to Clark. Also, Mitch is out of town at a conference, which was unfortunate timing. Yesterday morning when we hung up from a phone call with him, Frances clawed at Clark because he was the one who got to push the button to turn the tv off. I sat down beside her and said, "I'm thinking you might be feeling a little anxious because school is ending." She immediately teared up. I talked on for a while about how it's okay to be both excited about her school next year (which she is) and also sad to leave this one, and how it's confusing to have different feelings at the same time, etc, etc, and she just sat there listening to me, tears running down her face. Then I said something about how the reason we feel sad when something ends is because we love it and don't want to let it go, and she really started crying then. Poor girl. Afterwards she seemed much calmer and the trek to school was fine.
I talked with her teacher that afternoon at the school picnic. Her teacher told me that for the past week or two Frances has been playing school during free play time, being the teacher and taking care of the students. She has been (of course) organizing the play, but it's been good, not at all manipulative. But then today during free play time, Frances wanted to be the baby, wanted to have the other girls take care of her.
So it occurs to me that all this controlling is really her trying to control her own emotions. It's a transfer for some emotion she's trying to suppress. And it shouldn't surprise me - one of my biggest limitations is knowing what I'm feeling when I'm feeling it. She's an awful lot like me, and suppression could be her most logical approach. I hope I can find a way to help her with this. I forget to scan the playing field, forget that it's helpful if I have my eyes open for the trauma coming. I just forget. I'll forget again, but perhaps I can recognize it as it appears. And each time, I suppose, I'll get better at heading it off, at teaching her how to head it off for herself. Onward we go.
Thursday, June 28, 2012
waldorf, quakers, and us
My head hurts. Funny - I thought this blog was done, but here I am in the middle of my stuff. It seems just posting after a month unlocked the door, and now I've got a couple of posts halfway done, a couple more in my brain. I thought I didn't have anything to say, and now I've got plenty. For the moment, anyway.
How do we make decisions for our children? How much latitude do we give them to make decisions? At what age? Research (and common sense) tell us the brain isn't fully developed for a loooooonnng time after they seem pretty functional (like age 21 or something) and the young brain's judgement simply isn't able to distinguish blue from yellow.
When my son was two I sent him to a lovely Jewish preschool nearby - the same place Frances had been for her three-year-old year. I love this place; it's very sweet and warm and caring and it has a lot of integrity. I love that my kids learned a Hebrew prayer for before meals. I love that they brought coins and dropped them into a tzadaka box to give to those who have less.
We are not Jewish. I am a Quaker, and by extension my children are Quakers. (Super Cliff Note Description: derived from Christianity but only loosely connected now, Quakers have no ministers, no songs or readings. We sit in silence for an hour, believe strongly in "that of god in everyone," in the power of silence, and are probably most well known for our political stance on nonviolence. Here's more.) Mitch agrees with all the basic Quaker philosophy but can't get on board with the quiet, and he uses Sunday mornings to work. (He's chasing tenure - sneaks in hours at the office whenever he can find them. Ugh ugh ugh.)
Mitch and I had no problem sending our kids to a preschool of a faith different than our own. We liked that it opened up the conversation with the kids about how different people believe different things, and Hebrew is a pretty cool language to learn.
The school wasn't a perfect fit, however - I posted about some of that here - and while Frances was there I started looking around. What I discovered was Waldorf education, about which I am known to rave endlessly but won't this minute. So Frances was only at the Jewish school one year. When she turned four she started at the Waldorf kindergarten.
** I guess I need to pause here for some Waldorf details, to catch you up in case you're unfamiliar. Really, this should point to another post where I wax on, but I don't have one already written, so what you get are random details to give you some sense of the landscape. In no particular order.
I always assumed Clark would go to the Waldorf kindergarten, RiverNorth, as soon as he was old enough. But this year he wasn't, so he enjoyed himself very much at the Jewish preschool.
In addition to the kindergarten, this past year RiverNorth did an afternoon program once a week. The kindergarten ended at 12:30 and the afternoon program started at the same time and began with lunch the kids had brought from home. On those days Frances also stayed for lunch (There was no way she could have been a part of the afternoon program - that would have meant she would be there 8:30-4:30 and whoa that would have done her in.) When Clark and I came in to pick her up on those days he got to play some with the afternoon kids who were already done with their lunch. One day as we were getting ready to leave Clark asked if he could stay for the afternoon program. I knew a slot had opened up, and the question made me pause. He was now old enough for the program - had turned 4 a month earlier. I thought it might set him up well for school next year, get him used to the space, maybe a small feeling of ownership of it, and the transition in the fall would be smoother. It sounded like a good idea.
Well.
It was a good idea in theory. In practice it was a disaster. Afternoons in general are hard for him - he's just so tired. His allergies are terrible and I'm sure exhausting, plus he's in that stage where he really needs his nap, but if he has one he stays up til 10pm. After his first day he said he didn't like it. Among other things, he said he sat in the loft by himself and didn't play with anyone, which wasn't at all true; when I talked to the teacher she said he played the entire time, seemed completely engaged, was seeking out other kids, and they were seeking him out too. But clearly he felt lonely. I get that. He was walking into a social group that was already established, friendships already made. What was I thinking?
In any case, his three afternoons there left him with a bit of a bad taste in his mouth. And at the end of this school year Clark said outright that he didn't want to go to RiverNorth, that he doesn't like it there, that he wanted to stay at the Jewish preschool, that his (adorable, sweet) friends were important to him and that he likes it better there anyway.
For a couple of days I was all twisted around, thinking that maybe temperamentally the Jewish preschool is better for him, and wondering if the gain keeping his friendships outweighed my reasons for wanting him at RiverNorth. Besides, was I just trying to fit him into my view of what's important to me? Was I trying to make him someone he might not be? (And yet, let's not forget that he is FOUR. Who is to say who he will become?)
In my confusion I wondered if Waldorf early childhood education is geared a little more toward the strengths that are girls', that maybe he really wouldn't thrive in that atmosphere. I talked with the moms of the boys in Frances's school and I thought hard about the activities they do. Things like dying silk capes and finger knitting definitely lend themselves to Frances's temperament more than Clark's. But there's so much large muscle movement - big heavy wooden blocks that they use to build walls for their imaginative play, rocking boards, logs to heave and move, wheelbarrows and shovels and push brooms, and all the outdoor play, which around way up here in the snowbelt means a lot of sledding and snowball throwing. He would love that. I have no question.
Then I tried to think about my role as a parent. What I came to is that what is important to me is not beside the point, but is perhaps exactly the point. My role is indeed to shape the glass through which my children view the world. To show them the world's Truth as best as I am able. The issue is not where he will be more comfortable, but what experiences do I want him to have, not just for enjoyment's sake or attachments's sake (though both have their place), but because each experience influences the person he is to become. Turns out it is my job to make those choices for him at this age.
Of course.
And THEN it dawned on me - all at once in a rather dramatic and comedic realization - that we're not Jewish. Oh right! In fact, we are Quaker, and the Waldorf approach jives completely with Quaker beliefs, with the core of what I believe to be True. Why would I not send him there? In addition, because Waldorf aligns itself so well with Quaker values, I can use Quaker language to talk to him about why I want him there. This is who we are as a family, as a people. It is my job to frame that for him. When he's grown, he's free to convert to Judiasm, but for now this will be the view out his window.
Whew.
I haven't wavered a bit since that moment of clarity. And now that I've got it straightened out within myself, Clark seems to be settling into it as well. Although I know his adjustment this fall may be hard, and he may not like it at first, coping with change is a good skill for kids to learn. He will be fine.
The blessing Clark learned at the Jewish preschool is in Hebrew, and is beautiful. But the one that Frances says at RiverNorth is
How do we make decisions for our children? How much latitude do we give them to make decisions? At what age? Research (and common sense) tell us the brain isn't fully developed for a loooooonnng time after they seem pretty functional (like age 21 or something) and the young brain's judgement simply isn't able to distinguish blue from yellow.
When my son was two I sent him to a lovely Jewish preschool nearby - the same place Frances had been for her three-year-old year. I love this place; it's very sweet and warm and caring and it has a lot of integrity. I love that my kids learned a Hebrew prayer for before meals. I love that they brought coins and dropped them into a tzadaka box to give to those who have less.
We are not Jewish. I am a Quaker, and by extension my children are Quakers. (Super Cliff Note Description: derived from Christianity but only loosely connected now, Quakers have no ministers, no songs or readings. We sit in silence for an hour, believe strongly in "that of god in everyone," in the power of silence, and are probably most well known for our political stance on nonviolence. Here's more.) Mitch agrees with all the basic Quaker philosophy but can't get on board with the quiet, and he uses Sunday mornings to work. (He's chasing tenure - sneaks in hours at the office whenever he can find them. Ugh ugh ugh.)
Mitch and I had no problem sending our kids to a preschool of a faith different than our own. We liked that it opened up the conversation with the kids about how different people believe different things, and Hebrew is a pretty cool language to learn.
The school wasn't a perfect fit, however - I posted about some of that here - and while Frances was there I started looking around. What I discovered was Waldorf education, about which I am known to rave endlessly but won't this minute. So Frances was only at the Jewish school one year. When she turned four she started at the Waldorf kindergarten.
** I guess I need to pause here for some Waldorf details, to catch you up in case you're unfamiliar. Really, this should point to another post where I wax on, but I don't have one already written, so what you get are random details to give you some sense of the landscape. In no particular order.
- At the Waldorf kindergarten the kids make bread every Tuesday: grind the grain, kneed, grease pans, churn butter, chop apples for apple sauce. And that's what they have for snack that day.
- They spend a half an hour outside first thing, and then go out later for an hour and a half every day - rain, snow - and let me remind you that last year we had 120 inches of the latter. We parents just make sure the kids are in appropriate clothing.
- There are chickens in the back yard.
- They don't play on playground equipment, but take walks to the woods, or to a nearby park that's hilly and good for sledding or rolling down hills.
- The children aren't allowed to wear characters on their clothes or lunch boxes or whatever. A generic cartoon princess is fine, but a Disney one is not.
- Frances is often returned to me covered in mud.
I always assumed Clark would go to the Waldorf kindergarten, RiverNorth, as soon as he was old enough. But this year he wasn't, so he enjoyed himself very much at the Jewish preschool.
In addition to the kindergarten, this past year RiverNorth did an afternoon program once a week. The kindergarten ended at 12:30 and the afternoon program started at the same time and began with lunch the kids had brought from home. On those days Frances also stayed for lunch (There was no way she could have been a part of the afternoon program - that would have meant she would be there 8:30-4:30 and whoa that would have done her in.) When Clark and I came in to pick her up on those days he got to play some with the afternoon kids who were already done with their lunch. One day as we were getting ready to leave Clark asked if he could stay for the afternoon program. I knew a slot had opened up, and the question made me pause. He was now old enough for the program - had turned 4 a month earlier. I thought it might set him up well for school next year, get him used to the space, maybe a small feeling of ownership of it, and the transition in the fall would be smoother. It sounded like a good idea.
Well.
It was a good idea in theory. In practice it was a disaster. Afternoons in general are hard for him - he's just so tired. His allergies are terrible and I'm sure exhausting, plus he's in that stage where he really needs his nap, but if he has one he stays up til 10pm. After his first day he said he didn't like it. Among other things, he said he sat in the loft by himself and didn't play with anyone, which wasn't at all true; when I talked to the teacher she said he played the entire time, seemed completely engaged, was seeking out other kids, and they were seeking him out too. But clearly he felt lonely. I get that. He was walking into a social group that was already established, friendships already made. What was I thinking?
In any case, his three afternoons there left him with a bit of a bad taste in his mouth. And at the end of this school year Clark said outright that he didn't want to go to RiverNorth, that he doesn't like it there, that he wanted to stay at the Jewish preschool, that his (adorable, sweet) friends were important to him and that he likes it better there anyway.
For a couple of days I was all twisted around, thinking that maybe temperamentally the Jewish preschool is better for him, and wondering if the gain keeping his friendships outweighed my reasons for wanting him at RiverNorth. Besides, was I just trying to fit him into my view of what's important to me? Was I trying to make him someone he might not be? (And yet, let's not forget that he is FOUR. Who is to say who he will become?)
In my confusion I wondered if Waldorf early childhood education is geared a little more toward the strengths that are girls', that maybe he really wouldn't thrive in that atmosphere. I talked with the moms of the boys in Frances's school and I thought hard about the activities they do. Things like dying silk capes and finger knitting definitely lend themselves to Frances's temperament more than Clark's. But there's so much large muscle movement - big heavy wooden blocks that they use to build walls for their imaginative play, rocking boards, logs to heave and move, wheelbarrows and shovels and push brooms, and all the outdoor play, which around way up here in the snowbelt means a lot of sledding and snowball throwing. He would love that. I have no question.
Then I tried to think about my role as a parent. What I came to is that what is important to me is not beside the point, but is perhaps exactly the point. My role is indeed to shape the glass through which my children view the world. To show them the world's Truth as best as I am able. The issue is not where he will be more comfortable, but what experiences do I want him to have, not just for enjoyment's sake or attachments's sake (though both have their place), but because each experience influences the person he is to become. Turns out it is my job to make those choices for him at this age.
Of course.
And THEN it dawned on me - all at once in a rather dramatic and comedic realization - that we're not Jewish. Oh right! In fact, we are Quaker, and the Waldorf approach jives completely with Quaker beliefs, with the core of what I believe to be True. Why would I not send him there? In addition, because Waldorf aligns itself so well with Quaker values, I can use Quaker language to talk to him about why I want him there. This is who we are as a family, as a people. It is my job to frame that for him. When he's grown, he's free to convert to Judiasm, but for now this will be the view out his window.
Whew.
I haven't wavered a bit since that moment of clarity. And now that I've got it straightened out within myself, Clark seems to be settling into it as well. Although I know his adjustment this fall may be hard, and he may not like it at first, coping with change is a good skill for kids to learn. He will be fine.
The blessing Clark learned at the Jewish preschool is in Hebrew, and is beautiful. But the one that Frances says at RiverNorth is
Earth who gives to us this food
Sun who makes it ripe and good
Dearest Earth, and Dearest Sun
by you we live
our loving thanks to you we give.
Blessings on the meal
This is who we are. This is the world I will offer to him.
Monday, June 11, 2012
forward
This parenting gig is emotional business. I dropped both kids off this morning for their first day at camp - Frances went there last year but this is Clark's first experience - and I almost wept watching them go off with their group. They were so big; they were so little. My heart was so full it ached.
And why? Why is it all so emotional? I suppose because we know we can't hold it, can't hold onto it, these moments. Can't hold onto them and their babyness.
I've been feeling the baby pull again lately, but I think it's nothing more than the longing for all of this to stay. It's the desire to hang onto the time when they need and love me so desperately. It's amazingly satisfying to be needed by another creature so completely. But, if I think back with honesty, being needed so is also extremely taxing and sometimes resentment making. Which is why I'm trying to keep my head about this and know that another baby is not the answer to the question.
The answer to the question is for me to get off my ass and go get something of my own.
The kids are signed up for this camp this week and next, 9-1 each day. This is the first time EVER that I've had both kids in activities all morning for FIVE WHOLE DAYS IN A ROW. I almost don't know what to do with myself.
My joy over this limited freedom makes me know that the answer to the question is not another baby, but me me me. What do I want to do in this world? How do I want to spend my time, my energy? Do I want to write? Paint? Organize food drops for a homeless organization?
I read a quote recently that said something like: midlife is when the universe takes you by the shoulders and says, stop fucking around and use the gifts you've been given!!
It's less scary to turn back to what we know - which for me these days is certainly babies and little children. But that's not the best reason to do it. Especially when I struggle with post pardem depression, etc. No, I need to go forward, into the world, not retreat from it to care for an infant. It is time.
And why? Why is it all so emotional? I suppose because we know we can't hold it, can't hold onto it, these moments. Can't hold onto them and their babyness.
I've been feeling the baby pull again lately, but I think it's nothing more than the longing for all of this to stay. It's the desire to hang onto the time when they need and love me so desperately. It's amazingly satisfying to be needed by another creature so completely. But, if I think back with honesty, being needed so is also extremely taxing and sometimes resentment making. Which is why I'm trying to keep my head about this and know that another baby is not the answer to the question.
The answer to the question is for me to get off my ass and go get something of my own.
The kids are signed up for this camp this week and next, 9-1 each day. This is the first time EVER that I've had both kids in activities all morning for FIVE WHOLE DAYS IN A ROW. I almost don't know what to do with myself.
My joy over this limited freedom makes me know that the answer to the question is not another baby, but me me me. What do I want to do in this world? How do I want to spend my time, my energy? Do I want to write? Paint? Organize food drops for a homeless organization?
I read a quote recently that said something like: midlife is when the universe takes you by the shoulders and says, stop fucking around and use the gifts you've been given!!
It's less scary to turn back to what we know - which for me these days is certainly babies and little children. But that's not the best reason to do it. Especially when I struggle with post pardem depression, etc. No, I need to go forward, into the world, not retreat from it to care for an infant. It is time.
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