March Musings

I’ve been thinking a lot about the choices I make in parenting lately, from the words I use to the toys we buy (especially now that I have a Disney Princess-aholic on my hands).  How I am prone to over-analyze every aspect of my role as mother and am trying to tone it down a bit.  How something as simple as word choice and language impacts my kids every day.  How I have a hard time instinctively letting them play on their own, always trying to structure them or give them something to do, when in reality, they are just fine without me.  Better, probably, because their brilliant little brains can think of a thousand awesome things to do with an empty egg carton and I have to go on Pinterest to think of one.  I don’t think it hurts them that I am so willing to be their playmate or am staving off their boredom–I just don’t know how much I’m helping them, either.  Things to consider and work on, as always.

I read a great post from Moving Smart a while ago; it was my favorite one from the blog hop and I meant to bring it up here and never did.  Well it’s an extremely well written post about how we impart not only information to our kids, but also our opinions; how in our efforts to educate them we may also be over-informing them by attaching meaning to things without letting our kids experience them for themselves.  We project adjectives onto experiences or judge a food or a movie without considering what the child may have been thinking before we opened our big mouths.  So quick to educate, so quick to inform–what if my interpretation impairs a particularly magical moment that I didn’t even know was happening, and by throwing in my two cents, I took the shine off, or the sparkle out, or labeled a soup ladle a soup ladle, when in reality it was King Arthur’s sword freshly pulled from the stone?

Or like that scene in The Lion King, when Timon, Pumba, and Simba are all sharing what they think those twinkly things shining down on them from the night sky are, and Pumba’s ideas are dismissed as insignificant and Simba’s ideas are laughed at–it makes me wonder, have I done that to my kids today?  Have I labelled something as scary, silly, insignificant, useless, when to them it was mystical and mysterious only minutes before?  When I tell them that a star is a ball of gas millions of miles away, am I erasing all the future possibilities for folk tales and fables and fairy tales to weave their wondrous way into my child’s heart?  Am I over-educating them in an attempt to share the world with them?  Very likely, knowing me.  It requires a balance to teach and yet not tell, and although it is precarious, it is attainable.  Not that I know–I’m just musing over here.

The reason I thought of this is because suddenly Jax has begun labeling things as “scary.”  The idea of being scared of the dark has come up in a few books or TV shows, but nothing that I thought particularly resonated with him.  In the book Beyond the Rainbow Bridge that we received from the kids’ school, it talks about why Waldorf schools use real, unedited age-appropriate Grimm’s fairy tales rather than the softer, edited (ahem, Disney) versions.  It says,

“In a true fairy tale as those collected by the Brothers Grimm, human beings undergo trials and suffering and accept that deeds are a part of proving oneself worthy of the reward at the end of the path…They confront evil and overcome it.  Children experience the greed of the wolf and the evil of the witch quite differently than we adults do.  They experience these qualities more as archetypal pictures about life, but do not identify themselves personally with the suffering.  They trust that there will be a happy ending or that good will triumph over evil.  Such stores strengthen the moral lives of children….This strength and guidance will help them to deal with the challenges life brings to them.”

I think it goes back to what Gill from Moving Smart was talking about–the power of suggestion, or providing too much information.  Movies have music to create anxiety or build suspense.  Stories are read with emphasis. Adults are so quick to supply preschoolers with their emotions when they are upset, rather than allowing them to give voice to their own emotion –What’s wrong, Johnny?  Are you okay?  Did that SCARE you? when in reality the idea of being scared never crossed Johnny’s mind.  Now suddenly he thinks, Oh, crap, balloons popping are scary?  Well, does that mean balloons are scary?  Does that mean clowns are scary?  Now I hate clowns!  Man, I use to really like them, too.  We put the idea in their head–stars are balls of gas, clowns are scary–and we can’t take it back.  The innocence and wonder of childhood are gone.

Maybe that’s why I am so keen to keep my kids at the Waldorf school, because they not only understand this notion (and bring it to my attention), they guard children’s innocence as fiercely as other schools guard their IPads.  Because yes, I want to keep my kids in a blissful little bubble of happiness for as long as possible.  Is it going to last very long?  Nope.  Are they going to have to grow up eventually?  Of course.  But can I hope to foster the joy and simplicity of an early childhood spent at home with mom in the backwoods of Vermont for as long as I can?  You bet.  And if I can keep my heroes noble, my witches evil and vanquished, my kids’ spirits nourished, their curiosity piqued and their anxiety at bay for a while longer in the process, even better.

I just have to figure out how to make that happen.

Preschool Peer Pressure

As the winter continues and the temperature hovers closer to zero than to freezing more often than I’d like, my children and I are forced to spend more and more time indoors.  With that comes a sort of routine and inevitably weighing the benefits of getting my kids in their gear to head outside, even for a trip to the store, versus whether we should just suck it up, eat frozen chicken nuggets and Motts apple sauce for yet another day in an attempt to stay warm and close to home.  I’d say we’re about 50/50 and when it doesn’t seem unnecessarily cruel, we usually head out for at least part of every day.

This leads my train of thought to next year and the inevitable preschool dilemma because I imagine having to get our butts in gear and out the door by a certain time 2 or 3 days a week.  Jax will be 4 in October, which means that he still has two full years after the current one before he enters kindergarten when he will be nearly 6.  I’m happy with that situation for many reasons, but the most selfish is that he gets to stay home with me again for another year.  The older he gets, rather than looking forward to the days when he will be shipped off to school and disciplined by someone other than me, I instead feel panicky at the thought of entrusting his precious self to someone else.  Someone less than ideal.  Remember, I have been a public school teacher in my former life, and I know that all teachers have their faults and weaknesses.  Our kids will be public school kids, and I’m lucky enough to live in a town where the public elementary school is stellar.  I went in there the other day to inquire about their preschool program, and I could not have been more pleased with my first impression.  So that is not the question at hand.

The question is, Why are all preschool programs for 4-year-olds three days a week?  This is going to be Jax’s big transition to going somewhere alone, without me.  We all know where I’d LIKE him to go (ahem, Waldorf school, cough…) but where I’d like and where we can afford seem to be divergent roads in a yellow wood.  I am looking for somewhere in which I will entrust my son for the two years preceding his kindergarten year.  I am now realizing that almost every program is either for three or four days; does anyone else think that that is too much too soon?  Where is the baby step?  Or did I miss that step this year when he was three, when I was supposed to put him somewhere two days a week other than foster our relationship at home?  I don’t think either of us are ready for that.  Mostly me.  But maybe a small part of him, too.

This Saturday we went to a birthday party with probably close to 20 kids, and preschool was a hot topic discussed while arranging play mats, easing kids in and out of the bouncy house, and dishing out snacks.  All of the children present who would be three next year are going to a 3-day preschool program except for Jax and one other boy.  In a way I feel like I have to explain myself and admit that I’m not ready to send him away for three days next year.  No, we don’t have a school picked out yet.  No, we’ll probably do something a little more unorthodox (a.k.a. piece random shit together).  I want to hold off for 3-day preschool until the year before he goes to school.  Now, please note that my friends are the least judgmental crew I could have asked for, and if I told them I was going to home school Jax for the rest of his life, send him off to military school tomorrow, or send him to a local co-op, they would be more than supportive.  Just as I think it’s perfectly acceptable for them to be sending their kids somewhere a few days a week, they understand that it’s what works for our family not to.  But I felt a bit conflicted–everyone else’s kids are going somewhere, why not Jax?  What am I afraid will happen?  That he’ll learn too much?  That he’ll grow up too fast?  No and no, he’s already pretty smart and also thinks he’s the big kid of campus at our tiny little Waldorf school.  Nothing bad would happen if he went somewhere for 3 days a week next year.  So what’s holding me back?

I think one of the reasons is that I am nervous about letting go, but not because I want to keep my kids under my wing forever.  I just have very high standards for what I consider appropriate play and what I would judge a suitable playroom for my kids for that many hours a week, and those standards aren’t the norm.  I am terrified to send him into a traditional preschool, which so closely resembles a kindergarten room, and have the experience be negative and thus put a negative spin on school in the future.  That’s why I love the Waldorf school so much–it feels so much more like a home, like an extension of a beautiful, peaceful, non-academic/low pressure playground where the balance between play and learning seems to be seamless.  It doesn’t really have an academic connotation at all–that’s all under the overt radar.  I have always hated drilling children and didn’t do it in my classroom; what if a different preschool smothers the flame of his love for learning and letters and reading by overdoing it, or not doing it well?

Is this a problem that I’m going to have to face at any school, in any situation?  Absolutely.  Most parents I talk to think I’m crazy.  If I put it off traditional preschool for a year and direct his exuberance and excitement to places other than the traditional school setting for a bit, do some of you understand why?  Because I’m crazy and a bit of a micro-manager?  Yes.  Because I’m lucky enough to be home with my kids, and I’m just not in a rush to see it end?  That, too.  Call me crazy, but even on the most hectic of days, I just straight-up like being home with them.

And before you call me a hypocrite, yes, I would send Jax to the Waldorf nursery school in a heartbeat, and yes, that is three days a week.  But I am so on board with their philosophy and their manner of discipline and play that I would feel more than confident that his needs were being met and his self was being nurtured in a way of which I would approve.  Am I being a crazy, nit-picky mom who says, It’s Waldorf or the highway for preschool?  Maybe, for now.  Is that in Jax’s best interest?  Maybe not.  But as one of my friends pointed out today, we can mostly blame ourselves for the flaws in our kids’ personalities, be it co-dependence, arrogance, fear, or the like.  Of course by “flaws,” I don’t mean to say there’s something wrong with our kids–everyone has something in their personality they have to work on (for me, it’s obviously over-analyzing even the most mundane of decisions)–and kids are no exception.  One huge reason I want Jax to go to preschool is because he is the most egocentric, I-am-the-most-important-thing-in-the-universe, praise-driven first child on the planet.  He needs to learn patience and that not all adults are here to worship him.  He has to figure out that he will not get praise or rewards or accolades for every teeny step in his development.  Is he going to learn this from me?  Heck no!  I’m the one who made him that way!  I will praise and worship and love this kid like he is the coolest thing since sliced bread, because to me, he is.  It’s not my job to teach him that reality (well, it is, but in smaller doses).  I need him to be around other adults and kids and to learn the nuances of sharing, friendship, cooperation, and patience.  But does he have to be gone three days a week in order to learn it?  I thought that doing Morning Garden one day a week this year was a good first step–apparently I’m already a year behind.

I’m just wondering if anyone else has ever had a hard time entrusting their children to others at this age, or was consumed with worry about how the decisions made at this point of their development will impact them throughout their lives.  I don’t think it’s an exaggeration to think that where and how often and with whom they go to preschool will greatly form who they will grow to be.  So, to me, if my ideal preschool location isn’t an option, is it so terrible to opt for the second best option, hanging out with me?  We plan to enroll him in two separate, one-day classes where he’d have exposure to the arts and sciences in a semi-formal, fun way that nurtures his creativity but keeps it light.  Plus some form of sport, like gymnastics or maybe soccer, and our weekly trip to the library for story time and a craft, and I think we will have created a pretty good preschool-program-for-four-year-olds that doesn’t require me to get up and out the door by 8:00 three times a week or on a blustery winter day if we don’t want to.  Or continue going if he hates it.  Or continue going if I hate it!  We have a whole other year for all that.  For now, I think I’ll just keep with my alternative, hodgepodge preschool format, and pray that one of you is a secret Waldorfian who wants to be a benefactor to one charming yet self-centered little guy who is trying to thrive in this crazy world constructed by his equally crazy mother.  With me over-analyzing every move we make, I can only hope that he develops into someone who isn’t completely neurotic, but even if he does, man will this kid be loved!  And potentially a super mama’s boy, but we’ll cross that bridge when we get to it.

The Un-Resolution

If there’s one thing I’ve learned about myself lately, it’s that I can’t do it all.  Not that anyone ever expected me to, but I have a crazed perfectionist syndrome that is hard to suppress.  There is one arena where I have never attempted to achieve much, however, and therefore, not much can be expected of me.

In college I survived on macaroni and cheese, just-add-water-pancakes, and soda.  Now I lead a life where I’m not supposed to give my kids food that comes out of a can or a box or the freezer?  I do my best, but I’m not sure I can handle that one.  Remember when I had to stop someone at the grocery store to ask what a kiwi looked like?  Or when a stalk of broccoli almost foiled my first cocktails and crafts? For God’s sake, I brought a can of corn to Thanksgiving dinner at JDubbs’s cousin’s house one year as my side dish because I love it.  Really.  Needless to say, I don’t have high hopes for any culinary ventures in my life.  As I say on a daily basis, thank God for JDubbs.

My latest example includes a frozen pound of hamburger meat, a frying pan, and an attempt to make cheeseburgers.  Charred on the outside + raw on the inside + 60 seconds in the microwave = very well done burgers that didn’t taste too bad.  At least to me, but then again, I like deviled ham.  I thought the burgers came out fine, but considering both my children, even Em who would probably eat a rock if I put ketchup on it, gave them looks like this:

and pretty much only ate the bun, I guess I’m better off pulling one of those TGIFriday’s little sliders (that, by the way, are ready in 50 seconds and are delicious) out of the freezer and saying forget this whole cooking cockamamie.

Especially considering that when we sat down to eat, my kitchen looked like this:

Really, was all this worth it?  I think not.  Parents who prepare wholesome, healthy, fresh meals for the children every night without resorting to tying them up or locking them in a closet deserve a medal.  There are some things I’m good at, but cooking’s just not it.  So this New Year’s, my resolution is to cook as little as humanly possible  in 2012.  I think that would be best for everyone involved, don’t you?

A Prelude

As a prelude to my Cocktails & Crafts post for the month of July, I had to share this video from “The Today Show” recently.  It’s about the role alcohol plays in Mommy playdates.  I didn’t watch the whole thing because this kind of thing bores me; I felt like there was an angle/agenda and the women came off as less-than-brilliant.  One woman they interviewed said something like, “Be sober 15-16 hours a day and with your kids and I’d like to see if you’re a good mom.”  Hmmm….I’m not sure about that one.  And apparently moms can’t get through the hours of 4-6 pm without a drink because they are “bored” and “lonely.”  Those moms “thirst” for a connection to friends.  Made us seem kind of pathetic.  I don’t have lots of patience for that kind of nonsense.  That may be true to a degree; I certainly was bored and lonely when we first moved here and I had Jax!  But that isn’t why my friends and I continue to get together to share cameraderie and cocktails.

So why do we do C & C?  I think of it as an outing for me as much as the kids, and even though there is nothing different about it than any other playdate, other than the fact that some of us are enjoying a drink while we monitor our kids, it gives it a different feel.  I guess it makes me feel like the day isn’t all about them; I am here with my friends, having fun, too.  And NO.  I don’t need a drink to have fun.  But I do have fun having a drink.  Responsibly.

Thought it was interesting.  Anyone have an opinion about this?  Debate is good for the soul!  I’d love to hear your two cents.

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