"NurtureShock: New Thinking about Children"

NurtureShock is my new favorite book (at least until my next new favorite). I just recently finished it, and I don't exactly agree whole-heartedly with everything in it, but that's okay.

But here's what I love about it. It doesn't take social wisdom as gospel, and it backs up its statements with research. I'm a self-proclaimed information junkie, so I eat up anything that's supported by numbers.

Case in point: What's the primary cause of obesity in children? Television, obviously.

Wrong. It turns out that kids who are obese don't spend any more time in front of a screen than slim children. Really?

Really.

This book will shake up your ideas of children and raising them.

Want one reason to read the book? After reading the chapter on sleep with my children, they all willing agreed to go to bed without coming up with reasons why they should stay up. They started discussing among themselves the most advantageous bedtime and working out strategies to get everything done before they needed to be winding down.

How's that for a recommendation?

This is along the same lines as Freakonomics, which I enjoyed - but not nearly as much. NurtureShock is likely to have a much larger impact on the way I parent.

Nourishing Our Children through the Grandeur of the Outdoors

I've been reading a lot lately about how kids need to get outdoors more, how this generation is starved for time with nature. So, along those lines, and because I'm always on the lookout for ways to get my kids out of my hair - um, I mean, provide the best education and environment for healthy brains and bodies - I recently made it a point to have my youngest two spend some quality time together in the clear, clean out-of-doors.

Ah, to be surrounded by nature, to smell the fresh breeze and soak up the healing rays of the sun.

To revel in the glory of the day. To bask in the warmth of the afternoon and feel the fresh breeze against your face.

What could be better for the soul and more nourishing for the mind than to spend long, tranquil moments sharing the splendor with your sibling. For, after all, the two of you share so much of your lives, and even your genetic make-up.

I delight in the knowledge that my children have been enriched by the beauty and magnificence of the breathing, living woods around us, that they have valued the luxury of having the time to spend drinking in the radiance of the day, that they have rested at night knowing that the world that surrounds them is rich with majesty and grandeur.

Uh.

Hmm.

Well, at least they enjoy their drama classes.

No vampires were harmed in the making of this movie.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like My Understated 100th Celebration.

An Odd Thing to Wish For

"Let's keep our fingers crossed," I said to my darling daughter. "Yes, let's," she agreed.

What grand goal were we wishing for? What distant dream?

That her annoying cough, which has had her hacking and wheezing all day, is actually swine flu.

No, I'm not a sadistic mother, waiting second by second until one of my children falls ill, so that I can stand over them with a gruesome grin on my face and a tumbler full of castor oil. No, I'm not a doctor wannabe, hovering day by day for one of my offspring to catch some horrible ailment that I can try my homemade remedies on.

I'm just pragmatic. If the kids get swine flu now while it's in a mild form, I won't have to worry about its later, more severe version. I won't have to decide to get them a new and untested vaccine. And if S gets it now, then perhaps she'll pass it on to H and G so that they can be over it before their trip to the Appalachian Trail next weekend.

So, all of you send us your best wishes, won't you? Wishes for fever, cough, achiness, vomiting, and diarrhea. Thanks a bunch.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Calling the Cat.

It Ain't Always Easy, but It's Always Worth It

I got some flak for my blog post on API Speaks yesterday. One of the commenters was taken aback by some of my statements. So I reread my post, and I can certainly see why she might have taken some offense to my opinions.

To someone who had mellow kids, or maybe one child, or perhaps a ton of outside support, or even a group of like-minded moms to vent to, I can see how my words would rankle. She said of my post, "Perhaps it was intended to connect with an audience who finds attachment parenting to be difficult, even painful- but it also encourages the belief that it is normal, and okay, for it to be that way, rather than to find ways that are not painful or uncomfortable."

Well, the truth is, it is normal for it to be that way - at least for some of us, at least sometimes. Some of us have extraordinarily high-needs children who completely tap their reserves, day in and day out. Some of us have several closely spaced children or twins or triplets - and by the end of the day, we're completely "touched out" but still need to be accessible and welcoming to our children. Some of us have ill children, and we have to give and give and give. Some of us work and come home exhausted and still have to provide nurturing touch, when what we want is to have someone touch us in a nurturing way. Some of us are single and have no relief from being "on" all day - and night - long.

And yes, sometimes we pretend - to be patient, because the alternative is to be impatient; to be sensitive, because what we really want is to be left alone at that moment; and to be to be something we're not, especially if what we're feeling is not particularly "attached" at that second. Do we do this all the time? Most of the time? Much of the time? Obviously not, or we couldn't begin to call ourselves attachment parents, and we wouldn't be committed to this type of parenting.

For some of us, being attached is hard at times. Certainly not all the time, and probably not even most of the time.

But here's the deal. I've talked to countless parents who are following AP principles, and doing so with commitment and passion. Virtually every one of those parents finds it difficult at times. And many, many of those think they're the only one.

I can't tell you how many moms have thanked me profusely for letting it all hang out and admitting that I've struggled. They tell me that it actually makes staying committed to their beliefs easier, because they realize that they're not the oddball that they thought they were, that they're not doing it "wrong."

Almost everything we read about attachment parenting is about the positive aspects, the rewards, and the health benefits. And all those things are true. But it can be disheartening - at times - to those of us who are committed to this path but find it to be bumpier than the books let on, especially when we think that we're the only one struggling.

Of course, being attached to your kids is worth it, in so many ways that I can't even begin to express. More and more studies are backing up what AP parents have felt in their hearts all along - that our children are healthier, stronger, happier, and more confident over the long haul. Whether the path is sometimes difficult, sometimes rocky, sometimes steep ... it's the path with the most dazzling view, with the most brilliant sky, with the sweetest fresh air, and with the biggest rewards at the end, and strewn liberally all along the way as well.

So I am thrilled that there are parents out there for whom being an AP parent is easy. I'm elated that, for some, the few difficulties they encounter are easily remedied. For those who struggle occasionally (or even frequently) I just want to be that voice that says, "It's okay. You're human. We all struggle, and we all survive. And it's all worth it."

I must admit that I'm not a touchy-feely writer. In fact, when I first posted to API Speaks I wrote to the volunteer who handles the blog, and I asked her if my style was appropriate. I'm not apologizing; that's just me.

And just for the record, even though the early years were peppered with difficult times (and sometimes the pepper was a bit heavy), I never once was resentful. Never.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy The 8 Principles with Older Kids ... Still Valid?

The Struggles of Being Attached: Is It Worth It?

This post is today's blog post on API Speaks, Attachment Parenting International's blog.

Is being an attachment parent worth it? Let’s face it, it can be tough.

I co-slept – with kicking kids who woke up repeatedly during the night, all night long. One night my youngest kicked me in the breast so hard that I developed a massive lump and had to get an emergency mammogram to make sure it wasn’t going to explode or fall off. But the worst thing? I was so sleep deprived that I didn’t even wake up when it happened….
… Our friends who Ferberized their kids boasted about what great sleepers their kids were. “Little Johnny sleeps through the night and doesn’t wake until 8:00. Sometimes I have to wake him up for breakfast!”

I nursed – when my breasts were so sore that I’d have cut them off and hung them on the wall if I’d had the option. Breastfeeding hurt so bad with my middle child that I would start crying as soon as she woke up hungry, even before she latched on…
… My friends would pull out a little bottle, shake some sticky powder into it, and pop a plastic nipple into Little Suzy’s mouth, who happily gulped it down. I even had a friend who had one of those bottles with the long tube attached to the nipple, since she couldn’t even be bothered with holding her baby to eat.

I carried them — my newborns, my toddlers, and my preschoolers for a thousand miles, sometimes more than one kid at a time (thank goodness they were small!). Sometimes one would be in a backpack, one would be in a sling, and one would be on my hip or holding my hand….
… My friends would be (choose one) dragging their kids along by the hand because they didn’t want to cooperate, lugging immensely heavy carseats, or pushing them apathetically along in a stroller.

I responded with sensitivity — well, that is, pretended to be patient, endlessly giving words of reassurance or encouraging mediation, while my inner voice was screaming behind my ears, “Just stop it, already!”…
… My friends would pull their kids behind a fence and give them a swat or two, or maybe put them in time out. Problem solved.

My friends — wonderful, loving, committed, but decidedly non-AP friends — would look at me with a sorry mixture of pity, confusion, and something bordering embarrassment as I stuck to my guns, refusing to spank my kids, punish them, or demean them.

Clearly, some of my friends thought that I was coddling my children, perhaps even dooming them to a life of feeling entitled and being unfulfilled.

But I tried my best to treat my kids with the same respect that I would want. They had just as much value and deserved just as much respect as I did. Why would I want to teach them that the world doesn’t respond to their needs (that is, CIO)? What would be the point of saving myself some discomfort now (okay, let’s admit it, a lot of discomfort) by bottle-feeding when I was perfectly capable of breastfeeding, especially at the expense of their health? How could I tell them to stand up for themselves and not let the world take advantage of them if I treated them like “less than” or if I demeaned or humiliated them? And did I really want my kids to think that I was the absolute authority on everything, so much so that they needed to jump to my every command, lest they be punished?

Nope. I wanted my kids to think for themselves; to know that their parents always had their best interests at heart, even when it wasn’t convenient; to be able to count on their parents to be there when they needed us; and to know without a doubt that their thoughts and opinions were just as valid as mine or their dad’s – or any adult’s.

Was it easy? No, not always, especially at the beginning, especially when what I was doing was so different from my mainstream friends’ strategies.

Now, though, I must say that it’s the easiest and most natural thing imaginable. Today my children know that they’re valued and worthwhile and that they’re the equal of every person on the planet, no matter their age. They’re secure, they enjoy spending time with my husband and me, they enjoy each other, and they’re just plain fun to be around.

My kids, attached to each other ... and their guitars.

And what about my friends’ children? Are they easy? Well adjusted? Self-confident? Still connected to their parents? Some certainly seem to be. But, well … not all of them are. I see many (most?) of them turn to their peers for validation. Some put up a good front at being cooperative and “good” while investing a lot of effort in “getting away” with things behind their parents’ backs. And others bow to authority simply because of the authority’s age or position.

That’s not what I want for my kids. I like to think that the “work” I put into being an attachment parent in the early years is paying off now. After the thousands of hours and hours of effort I spent cosleeping, nursing, playing, talking, listening, comforting, mediating, and just being, I’m seeing the rewards.

And those rewards will last a lifetime.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy What I've Learned As a Parent.

Dependence Begets Independence?

Can dependence really give rise to independence? How can that be?

It does seem counterintuitive, doesn't it?

Think about it for a minute. What makes someone independent? I don't mean independent by the current youth standard - not caring, not needing parents, and not being curious ... in short, being apathetic to life. Indeed, those very kids are totally dependent on their peers for validation, so in actuality, not independent at all.

No, I mean independent. Completely secure in who they are, what they believe, and how they act. We've all met them - heck, maybe you're one of them. When I was a young adult, I secretly looked at those people with great awe - those people who dressed in their own style, who held religious or political beliefs distinctly separate from their peers or their family, who forged ahead on their own and without a safety net, and who followed their own, if seemingly outlandish, career paths. I was never comfortable enough in my own skin to be one of those people.

So, I ask again, what makes a person independent? Secure? Willing to go out on their own without a group backing them up?

Let me go out on a limb here and say dependence. If a child starts life being dependent on caring parents, knowing that those parents will be there for him, rain or shine, then he can focus on exploring the world. If he knows that he's going to be loved unconditionally, with all his warts and indiosynchrocies, then he can become secure in who he is. If he learns early on that the world responds to his needs, then he becomes comfortable with being curious and expects that he'll get results from his actions.

If he begins life dependent on loving, caring adults who cherish him for who he is, there is no other path than that of independence in the healthiest meaning of the word.

Isn't that what we want for our kids?

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy What We Give Our Kids.

Following a Child's Wonder

I'm a bit slow on the update sometimes.

When did you "rediscover" your sense of wonder at the world? If you're like most parents, your eyes began sparkling at new-fallen rain and your ears began ringing to the tunes of early morning birds awaking to the dawn. Perhaps you walked through the world hunched over, following your toddler around, noticing the yellow brilliance of the daisy and the pungence of freshly mown grass.

Then again, maybe you were like me. I spent those early years of toddlerhood mostly slogging through the days, grateful if I got a shower, if my kids ate something other than peanut butter on a spoon out of the jar, and if we were no more than thirty minutes late to playgroup. I was so busy surviving the challenges of a high-need preschooler while dragging along an unwitting toddler and newborn that the nuances of a sunset or the harmonic shades of an orchestra went entirely unnoticed.

I probably would have liked to have enjoyed them; I just didn't notice.

For me, my reawakening to the wonders of the world didn't come until my kids were old enough to start having real discussions - with me or each other. When they were mature enough to have their own opinions and debate their merits, well, that was when my brain really clicked in.

Wow!, I thought. These kids look at the world in an entirely different light! Where they see crimson or scarlet, I see red. Where they hear rain pattering or bacon frying, I hear static. Where they see rainbows and swirls, I see oil spots on the driveway.

Their creativity has opened by mind to vast possibilities I'd never before thought about. History interesting? You don't say! Geography useful and fascinating? Who would've known! Drama worthwhile? Couldn't have imagined it! Improv mind expanding? No kidding!

Now that my kids are older, my mind expands farther than I ever expected. I used to think that I loved to learn, but my kids have taught me otherwise - I only thought I did. Now I know what loving to learn means. In part, it means opening your mind enough to learn about things that you never thought you were interested in, and being thrilled to find that there was an entire world out there that you'd missed. It means admitting that you don't know much and letting others teach you - others who might not be otherwise seen as likely teachers. It means stretching your views to encompass more than what you believe, to perhaps have your mind changed by lively, enthusiastic, and sometimes even hot-headed debate.

These days my children are the leaders in so many things. I rarely consider myself a teacher. I'm more a facilitator or an enabler ... or a student.

And that's just fine with me.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy What We Give Our Kids.

Photo by gamier20 from here

Sunday's Gratitude Post

Boys. NICUs. Red-heads. High-energy kids. Micro-preemies.

Now teenagers.

Amazing how something so tiny can change your life

so drastically, so brilliantly.

G came into our lives 14 weeks early at 2 lbs, 5 oz.

Due in December, born in August.

The doctors allowed us to lay one finger on him

before they wheeled him into the NICU.

We could only touch him softly, for fear of his skin tearing.

We could see his heart beating beneath his skin.

All five of his fingers could fit inside my size-4 wedding ring.

This is the first day we got to hold him, on Day 7.

I sat holding my little kangaroo for hours at a time, day in and day out.

I watched other parents come and go,

but one of us was always there with our baby.

He burned with fierce determination and tenacity from the very beginning,

a trait that kept him alive then and that continues to serve him well today.

They called him "The Miracle Baby."

Never on a respirator, never on nasal prongs.

He nursed when only 30 weeks, remarkably early.

He was just tiny and needed to grow.

At 34 weeks, still 6 weeks premature, he came home -

eyes wide with wonder.

He continued to amaze us, reading at 18 months.

Here, at 11 months, he's picking out letters from the headlines

while having his cup of joe.

He wholeheartedly welcomed his little sister

when she came along a year and a half later.

They were best buddies - and still are (well, most of the time) -

along with their younger brother.

At two, he hadn't said "Mama" yet.

We wondered if he would ever speak.

But he would sit on the couch with us and read literally for hours at a stretch.

We were heartened by that affinity for words, which alleviated our fears.

At 3, he not only said, "Mama," but also just about anything else he wanted.

With great gusto. Often, and vociferously.

Always driven to succeed, he earned his Black Belt at age 10.

Again, his perseverance rose to the surface.

Still reaching for his goals, he attended the State-level

National Geography Bee for the second time this year.

Next year, he hopes to make it to Nationals, a dream he's had since he was 10.

He studies geography several hours a day.

Soccer, a past love of his.

On to bigger and better things now.

Finally, after playing for six years, he and his team won State.

Great to go out on a high note.

Now, a teenager.

Wow, where did the time go?

How do you adequately say you're grateful for something

that so radically changed your life that your entire being,

your complete world picture,

indeed the very physiology of your brain is changed forever?

For someone for whom you would willingly live for eternity,

die in an instant, and do it all over again?

This parenting gig is shaping me in ways I never imagined.

My children have taught me more than any school,

have guided me more than any teacher, and filled me more than any religion.

Once again, my life is changed, now that I'm the mother of a teenager.

The path before me is clearer than I ever imagined.

I just hope that I can walk it with the integrity and respect that my new teenager,

my daughter, my preteen son, and my dear husband deserve.

I'm grateful.

Happy Birthday, G.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Does Attachment Parenting Really Work?

Getting off the Low Road

The Low Road ... the muck, the mire, the warm and sticky Low Road. We've all been there - whether we admit it or not - getting ourselves stuck in a situation with our children where we've said something or done something out of anger or frustration that we regret.

How do we repair our relationship with our child?

Oh, wait. You're surprised? Did you believe the myth that parents who follow attachment parenting are always patient and cheerful? That they happily follow their children from task to task, with a warm and positive attitude, always accommodating and unflappable? Yeah, right.

Maybe the books make it seem so. Maybe other AP parents make it seem so. I've heard lots of parents be turned off of attachment parenting because they think they're not "AP enough." What a shame!

Let's face it. We all have strengths, and we all have weaknesses. AP parents are not so different from mainstream parents ... we lose our temper, we get snappy, we clench our fists and sometimes - ugh - even yell. For some, any or all of these things happen rarely. For others of us - and well, uh, let's just say that I definitely count myself among these - they happen just a tad bit more than we'd like. Like every day. Like every hour. Or wait, maybe that's just in my head.

I'm not saying that walking the Low Road is okay or that it's appropriate. It's just, well, normal ... at least at times.

And here's a news flash to all the new AP parents out there: every one of those "together," laid-back, calm, and nurturing AP moms that you meet, even those who are legendary among AP circles for their wisdom and BTDT advice ... they've all walked the Low Road. Some have worn ruts in it up to their knees.

But ... and here's the key ... they've survived with their relationship with their children in tact.

How?

There are some simple rules that I follow to get me get off the Low Road and back onto high ground.

First, step away and remove yourself from the trigger. When I've done or said something I regret (like when I've flown off the handle after the 167th time in the last week that I've found the bread sitting out and getting stale), the first thing I do is walk away. I know myself well enough to know that sometimes that feeling of anger - that heat of the moment - feels good (yes, I said it, and most moms won't admit to it). I finally admitted this after years of talking with my oldest about his rages; he told me that it felt powerful to him to be in a rage state, and that confession clicked with me. Not the proudest thing to admit, but once I realized that, it made it easier to remove myself from a place of anger.

Second, when somewhat calmed, apologize. You'll be simply amazed at the power of the words, "I'm sorry." If you think that anger makes you feel powerful, think again. There are few things more powerful than opening yourself up to someone you love, showing your vulnerability, admitting your mistakes, and knowing that they'll forgive you and love you for who you are, not who you want to be. What's more, that apology sets an example, "allowing" your children to be imperfect and lovable in all their imperfections - and allowing them to apologize in the future, even when it's hard.

Third, explain. This goes hand in hand with apologizing. Your kids are probably relieved to see that you've calmed down and apologized, but they still may be wondering what was going on. What was going through your mind? A heartfelt explanation will help them make sense of the confrontation. "I'm so sorry that I blew my stack. I just get angry when yet another loaf of bread ends up stale because it got left out on the table. I shouldn't have yelled, and I apologize."

Fourth, listen. This is crucial. This is your big chance to hear what your kids really think, to see inside their hearts, and to learn their feelings. If you hear, "Why should I put away the bread, when you leave your clothes all over the floor?" then you know that there's a deeper issue than just forgetfulness. If you hear, "I'm sorry I left the bread out. I just forgot again." Then you know your child is trusting you with his honesty.

Listening is my most useful parenting strategy. I can't tell you how many times I've learned things I never would have imagined just by shutting up. On many occasions, what I thought was the real issue wasn't, and if I'd continued my "solution" to the problem, I never would have gotten to the heart of the issue. In my mind, I have to just zip my lips closed and swallow all those helpful retorts. It works wonders. I talked about this a bit in yesterday's post.

When you find yourself on one of those (hopefully few) journeys slogging down the Low Road, know that you can repair your relationship with your child. Admit you're human and thus imperfect, talk with your children, and move on. The only thing you don't want to do is ignore it. Your children will remember your effort at repair, or they'll remember your lack of effort. Which do you want remembered?

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This post is part of the Attachment Parenting Month blog carnival, hosted by Attachment Parenting International. Learn more about how you can stay “Attached at the Heart Through the Years” by visiting API Speaks, the blog of Attachment Parenting International.

If you liked this post, you might enjoy What I've Learned As a Parent ...

Thanks to Alyssa for the idea for this post!

Photo by aussiegall from here

Ack! I've been tagged!

I've been tagged.

Oh god, I've been tagged.

"Be strong!" my darling daughter says, hugging, then kissing me on top of my head (and then punching me in the arm while growling).

Era, my virtual friend (and after this, I use the term loosely) tagged me to make a list of "7 Reasons I Am Awesome." That was a month ago, and I've been putting it off. So let's just get this thing over with.

First, my kids' list of "7 Reasons I Am Awesome" ...

1. I have awesome kids.

2. I have an awesome cup that says, "You can't scare me. I have kids." and a give-away Star Trek glass.

3. I homeschool 3 awesome kids.

4. I'm an awesome multi-tasker: I empty the dishwasher and talk on the phone at the same time.

5. I have an awesome nickname, "Mama-Girl."

6. I hold the awesome family title of "Gross-Out Queen."

7. I play awesome games, like chase the kids, hit like a girl, the arthritic dumb giant, let's scare G, and calling the cat.

Now, for my own, not nearly so entertaining list ...

1. I'm imperfect. I'll gladly admit it to anyone who's dumb enough to stand still and listen. You might argue that that's not a reason to be "awesome," but I beg to differ. I see myself as a shining example of what not to do. Besides, who wants a perfect parent? Think of the pressure!

2. I apologize. Frequently. I make lots of mistakes, including how I parent, and I've gotten really good at apologizing. Again, I see that as setting a glorious example for my kids. Apologizing gracefully is an art, one that I've had plenty of opportunity to perfect. In all seriousness, I'm constantly amazed at how far a heart-felt apology will go when I've done something I regret. My kids are refreshingly forgiving.

3. I listen. Some of my best and most effective parenting moments have been those in which I haven't uttered a word. I'm not quite sure what that says about me, but I do feel that quite a few arguments happen because someone just wants to be heard. I truly try to listen to what my kids have to say. That's been the number one method - by far - of working out problems and disagreements around here.

4. I love to learn and try new things. That's one big reason why we homeschool. I absolutely relish learning something new right alongside my kids, whether it's through reading out loud together, traveling someplace cool, or sitting together while watching and discussing an educational video. I learn so much from - and with - my kids!

5. Closely related to #4, I'm creative and I don't mind getting my hands dirty. I have no problem with letting the kids build a Rube Goldberg machine that spans two stories of the house, scrounge scrap lumber from the garage to build a catapult, or drag out fabric, yarn, and tape to hold an egg-drop contest. I enjoy building, sewing, creating, and inventing (just not cooking). Sometimes these projects stay out for days (or weeks), but this is a kid-friendly house and I don't aspire to be in Architectural Digest.

6. I love being silly and laughing. You'll frequently find me chasing, joking, and just plain playing with the kids. Anything to get a laugh. I didn't win the title "Gross-Out Queen" for nothin'!

7. I love my family with a fire that's frightening. Woe be it to the poor soul who tries to harm one of my children (even if it's another one of my children) - the Mama Bear rages with ferocity. (I guess that's the other meaning of awesome: inspiring awe). I'm fiercely loyal to my children and my husband. There's no place I'd rather be on this earth than surrounded by them. I adore each one of them individually.

All in all, if I'm at all awesome, it's because I'm surrounded by love and joy - and people who allow me to be who I am.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy What We Give Our Kids.

NOT Back to School Party!

While virtually every other child in the state was waking to alarm clocks, scrambling around for their lunchboxes and backpacks, swallowing the butterflies that come with the first day of school, and worrying about their new teachers and old friends, this is what we were doing ...

The annual NBTSP (Not Back To School Party) - my kids are in there somewhere.

And tonight, they're all having sleepovers with friends, because it's not a school night.

As much as they are happy not to have to sit in a classroom, I'm even happier!

Sunday's Gratitude Post

Six Flags Fiesta Texas. Need I say more?

Boomerang, an extreme coaster that all the kids chose to ride, much to my astonishment

Well, I guess I do, so here goes. A few highlights of the day:

No people - the day before the first day of school, tax-free shopping weekend, and 158 degree temperature

No waits - the longest wait we had was about ten minutes to one of the water rides; we walked right up to the turnstiles for the big-ticket coasters

Maturing kids - my previously cautious kids (fear of new things, fear of heights, etc.) tried some of the biggest and scariest rides in the park, including an almost vertical drop of about 15 or 20 stories in a water chute (see a photo here, which I have to provide a link for instead of a photo, since it's copyrighted)

S riding all the extreme roller coasters with her uncle, including one (Goliath) all by her lonesome

G riding one extreme roller coaster and considering another

T exhibiting that he's completely over his fear of heights (see photo link above, for the twisty chute, and this link for the giant water slide)

Time with the kids' aunt and uncle, who gave this outing to them for their birthdays

Goliath, which S rode twice, once by herself

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Last Stop ... Terra Cotta Warriors

Photo of Boomerang by racer108 from here

Photo of Goliath by Kaleenxian from here

Tax Free Shopping ... or Taxing Shopping?

I'm not a shopper. I'm too cheap, nothing ever fits, I'm too picky, malls give me headaches, shopping makes my feet hurt, I hate having our country's over-the-top consumerism repeatedly blasting me in the fact all day, and the prices are way over my budget (did I mention that I'm cheap?). I find tax-free shopping to be anything but ... it taxes my patience and my sanity mightily.

But once every year I drag myself out with the other eager shoppers to tackle the stores during tax-free weekend. This is the weekend that the state drops its excessively high sales tax (which we have in place of a state income tax, and I'm not complaining!) for back-to-school shoppers. (Don't tell, but those of us who aren't going back to school take advantage of it too!)

Granted, the sales tax alone isn't high enough to warrant fighting the crowds, since I'd only be saving less than 9%. But lots of stores have large sales to entice people into their lairs, so that's worth it to me once a year to brave the shopping hoards.

So I just now got back home, at almost midnight, because many of the stores have extended hours.

I saw lots of moms with their kids, mostly older kids since that's the areas of the stores that I'm shopping in now. I guess I live in my own little bubble, because I'm constantly amazed at how much parents dislike being around their kids, and vice-versa. The moms were eagerly shopping, looking forward with glee to getting the kids out of their houses all day long starting Monday, and the kids were barely disguising their disgust for having to actually appear in public with their parents, much less to go shopping, because in their parents' presence the kids can no longer pretend that they were hatched or dropped from an alien spacecraft.

S and I spent several hours together this morning, walking from store to store with virtually no success at crossing things off our list, but we joked and kidded around and generally had a great time. The great time had to do with being together in spite of our mission.

I feel so sorry for those kids don't enjoy spending time with their parents, and I feel sorry for those parents who don't enjoy - or even know - their kids. Both sides are really missing out.

Who knows? I may be eating my words in a couple of years when one of my kids goes through that stage, but I certainly hope not. I'm doing everything in my power to make what most people think is inevitable be evitable (yes, it's a word ... I looked it up). Only time will tell.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy Beyond Babies.

Photo by lu_lu from here.

Getting My Fall "Fix"

"Hi. My name is Camille, and I'm a curriculaholic."

Every fall, I succumb to the siren song of my supplier, Rainbow Resource. I sit for hours, thumbing through 1,358 pages of 8-point type, picking out all the wondrous supplies, curricula, and resources that will spur my children's enthusiasm and "natural love of learning" (I hear they're supposed to have that).

I tag, dog-ear, circle, and list all the items that are essential to our upcoming homeschooling year. Then I tally up the total, and promptly eliminate 90% of it - you know, all the non-essential essential stuff.

I frequently find myself pining over resources that my kids aren't old enough for yet and lamenting the ones that my kids are too old for now. By the time I've skimmed through the entire tome, I have dozens of little plastic stickies poking out from the pages.

Even if I could afford to buy all the goodies that I desire, I wouldn't have enough time in the day to use them all. Ah, if I could buy a bunch of stuff, leave it lying around for the kids to "discover," and let that innate love of learning take over, my life would be easy. I could sit back and watch them expand their minds and explore their desires without my once having to crack the whip or snipe at them to "do something!"

But I can't afford it all, and it's probably a good thing, because then I'd just have to store it.

What does it say about the excitement in my life when I get all jazzed up about poring over pages and pages of teeny type explaining oodles of great stuff - whether it's Japan(Make It Work series ... fabulous, fabulous fabulous!), Milestones in Science(supercool history/science curriculum), or Backyard Ballistics(what kid doesn't love building things that fire projectiles?). I guess it says that I love being a homeschool mom, even when it means that my house is always a wreck, I never get enough sleep, we put 20,000 miles on our car every year, and all our "entertainment funds" go to Rainbow Resource.

Do they have a 12-step program for homeschooling addicts?

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy What We Give Our Kids.

Gearing up for "School"

Today's attempt at hands-on learning.

A sort-of shinai and a bamboo, duct-taped, "sword"

(and I use the term loosely).

Our weekly co-op starts in a few weeks, so I'm starting to plan my class. This semester I'm teaching "Arms and Armor," a look at weapons through history. I got, shall we say, stuck with this class, because my classes didn't make.

I offered Full-Contact Grammar (an active grammar class using props, charades, and other games) and Milestones in Science (a science-through-history class where kids learn about innovations by re-creating the original experiments). They didn't get enough votes to be offered, and I was seriously bummed - so bummed that I might have to offer a little science class outside the co-op to do Milestones.

I shouldn't say that I was "stuck" with "Arms and Armor," because I actually was going to offer that very class ... just for a much older age. It wasn't the class I got stuck with, it was the age. The kids are, um, young and, ahem, energetic, and ack!, mostly boys between the ages of four and seven. So how do I plan to keep seven young boys enthralled for an hour?

Weapons.

Weapons that they get to make.

Weapons that they get to make to beat each other up with.

S and T trying out their new weapons of mashed instruction.

My plan for the first week is to let them make a shinai, a practice bamboo kendo sword. I'll send home instructions for making a samurai sword, helmet, and armor - or maybe I'll have enough energy to do the shinai and the armor or helmet! Who knows? Stranger things have happened.

Here's our shinai prototype.

What would homeschoolers do without duct tape?

(Shhh! Don't tell, but I plan to work in a little geography along with the history and the weapons making.)

This is what a real shinai looks like.

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy The Mock Day.

Photo of shinai by Diego Martin from here.

More from The Bitter Homeschooler

Another great article from the editor of Secular Homeschooling magazine, this one from Issue #7, the first to be published in the new bimonthly format.

The Pros and Cons of Homeschooling

by The Bitter Homeschooler, from Secular Homeschooling, Issue #7, July 2009

There are plenty of people who will tell you the cons of homeschooling. People who have never homeschooled, never plan to, and are terrified of the very idea of that kind of autonomy will be more than happy to tell you everything that could possibly go wrong with homeschooling: your kids won’t learn what they need to; your kids won’t learn anything at all; your kids will learn plenty but they won’t get into college; your kids will learn and will be accepted by a wonderful university, but won’t be able to afford to go because you won’t have any money because you spent all that time homeschooling them instead of selling your soul to the corporate devil; your kids will learn and will go to college, but will be bizarre asocial freaks who are only good at things like retaining information and writing original papers because they have no idea how to relate to their fellow human beings.

People who actually homeschool will be very happy to tell you the pros of homeschooling. No getting up at an ungodly hour to get the kids dressed, fed, and on the bus by another ungodly hour! Hanging out in your pajamas all morning if you feel like it! Plenty of time for life-skill lessons and baking homemade bread together (mmmm)! Going to museums, parks, and public pools whenever you feel like it, instead of on loud, crowded weekends and holidays! Taking a week off when you need to or want to or just because!

But have you noticed how hard it is to find someone who will give you the pros and the cons? You know, together? The anti-homeschooling brigade doesn’t know the good stuff; homeschoolers don’t want to scare you off with any hint of difficulty, and anyway we’re so sick of all the criticism we have to field from civilians that many of us are in Persistent Cheerleading Mode when it comes to the subject of homeschooling.

Well, sigh no more, ladies and gents. Your very own Bitter Homeschooler is here to help. And so, without further ado, here are:

The Pros and Cons of Homeschooling

Pro: Your kids won’t be bringing home lovely new words they learned from that adorable little sailor every classroom has at least one of.

Con: You will either have to make an appointment to go out and get some good swearing done, or resign yourself to never being able to ask your children with a straight face, “Where did you learn that word?” You know and they know that they learned it last week, when you accidentally slammed your hand in that drawer and didn’t get your lips shut quite fast enough and you got to enjoy the kind of “teachable moment” your homeschooling books never mentioned.

Pro: Unlike kids who are either at school or doing homework all day, your kids have the time and opportunity to learn the work that goes into running a household. If your local educational authority requires you to keep records, you can record time spent teaching them how to do laundry and other important household tasks under the heading of Social Studies, Health, or Life Skills.

Con: Your kids are not idiots, and don’t want to clean any more than you do. If you get tired of arguing and decide to just do the chores yourself one day, you’ll learn the joy of attempting to clean a house when it’s full of people being creative all over it.

Pro: You and your family have lots of time to just be together. You get to learn who your children really are: their interests, passions, hopes, and dreams. You’re all about family togetherness.

Con #1: It’s really easy for that other kind of togetherness to fly out the window, if you get our drift. And that’s if you already have a partner. If you’re single and think it might be nice to have a date once in a while — well, best of luck with that one.
Con #2: Shutting the door when you enter the bathroom will become a distant, wistful memory.

Pro: Your child’s social life will be just fine — better than ever, if you have the schoolyard jungle to compare it to. You’re right there to keep a sharp eye out for bullying and other problems. You can guide your little ones through successful conflict resolution by teaching them skills they’ll actually be able to use as adults.

Con: Wait — didn’t you used to have a social life?

Pro: Being a homeschooler can be a proud thing. More and more, the mainstream population is learning what homeschooling really is. You practically can’t open your car door without smacking some newspaper or magazine article about homeschooled kids being admitted to (or graduating from) top-notch universities, routinely out-scoring their schooled peers on standardized tests, winning spelling and geography bees, going into business for themselves in their teens, and just generally overachieving all over the place. And people are getting increasingly dissatisfied with schools — the bullying, the hours of homework every night, the low test scores, the teaching to the test. These days, you’re pretty likely to get a positive response from strangers who learn that you homeschool. And if you don’t, you have plenty of ammo to lob back.

Con: Exactly because homeschoolers are still in the minority and do often make the news with all their fabulousness, you’re going to be seen as A Homeschooler. It’s so much fun to be representative, especially on those days when the kids are feeling sulky about being out on an errand instead of home with their beloved computer games (and aren’t keeping their feelings to themselves), your eleven-year-old genuinely and audibly has no idea what the change will be if you give the cashier a dollar for that 89-cent purchase, and your nine-year-old asks with bright-eyed curiosity who those weird-looking guys are on the Presidents’ Day Sale flyer. Sometimes it’s best to just call it a snow day and call it a day.

Pro: No gloppy cafeteria food for your kids. No vending machine junk, no peer pressure to eat nothing but caffeine, sugar, and grease. You can feed your children wholesome food — and you know exactly what they’re eating.

Con: They know exactly what you’re eating. Keeping the good chocolate to yourself is next to impossible. (Our advice: hide it behind all that stuff you bought with such good intentions at the last homeschooling convention.)

Pro: Your principles, morality, ethics, and ideas about appropriate behavior have a really good chance of becoming your children’s, too. Your kids aren’t being fed the idea that their peer group is the arbiter of standards. You have the chance to model the kind of behavior and philosophy you want them to learn, and you’ve got plenty of time in which to do that.

Con: They don’t just pick up the good stuff. Even when they don’t look like they’re watching and listening, they are. Hard as you try to hold it together, one of these homeschooling days you’ll look down and realize that that’s exactly what you look (and sound) like when you’re in a snit. And you won’t be looking in a mirror. Except of course metaphorically.

Pro: You’re in the driver’s seat when it comes to your children’s education. They can go at a pace appropriate to their wishes and needs rather than to a state-imposed idea of what should be learned when. You can enjoy child-led learning, if that’s what suits you. You can hunker down with some good old-fashioned basics, if that’s what your family likes and needs.

Con: There’s no school system, classroom, or teacher to fall back on or blame. You know exactly what your kids do and don’t know — especially what they don’t. And not only do you get to worry about it — you’d do that even if they were in school — you get to feel guilty with a side of panic.

Pro: No one’s telling you what to do. It’s all you.

Con: No one’s telling you what to do. It’s all you.

Good luck!

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If you liked this post, you might enjoy "The Bitter Homeschooler's Wish List"

Difficulties of Attachment Parenting

Being an AP parent to one child is hard.

Being an AP parent to two children is even harder, and sometimes seems damned near impossible, because what worked with the first doesn't work with the second.

Being an AP parent to three children is easy, because by then you've given up trying to be the perfect parent, or even some distant resemblance to that parent you were sure you'd be, and you're just happy if your kid isn't crusty, smelly, or hungry. (Just kidding. It's still hard.)

Seriously, one of the hardest things for me about being attached is finding time to myself to recharge. I'm an introvert, and my alone-time is a necessity for my sanity (or at least what's left of it). But having one, two, or three children hanging on you every minute of every day and night is truly exhausting.

I honestly believe that the only AP parent who finds parenting a breeze has a doormat for a child. And if you're truly a parent who is conscious of the needs and desires of her child, then he/she can't possibly grow up to be a doormat!

Another terribly difficult thing about being AP to more than one child is that each child is different, and you have to relearn parenting with each one. What works with the first child probably won't work with the next, and what works with the third will be something completely different from either of the two previous things.

My children couldn't be more different. It's taken me years to learn how each of their brains works, and thus how to parent each of them effectively. And believe you me, it's tough sometimes trying to come up with something in one situation that works for all of them.

My "rule follower" is lost and distressed unless he has clear boundaries and guidelines to follow. My "free spirit" digs in her heels if I try to lay down the law with her. And my "life of the party" gets totally bent out of shape if I don't let him be completely independent - at least, that is, until he wants to be velcroed to my side.

If all this is discouraging, don't let it be. Attachment parenting - which basically means being respectful of your children and staying close to them - is worth it. If you're still not sure that it's worth all the effort over the long haul, read yesterday's post.

This post was actually a post that I wrote over four years ago, when G was 8 and T was 4. Funny, it's all still true. Fortunately, I now have the extra years to look back on it and say, "Whew! That was hard! But it was worth it." So many parents think that being an attached to young children is easy, while being attached to older kids is hard. But oh, man, these days life is so much easier.

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If you enjoyed this post, you might like What I've Learned As a Parent.