Yearly Archives: 2012
What I Learned on my Summer Vacation
Or rather, on my spring camp-out. In no particular order:
And finally, three days is a long enough break from real beds, real toilets, and hot showers… but not nearly long enough from housework, voice mails, and Facebook.
I can’t wait for the next trip.
(More pics are here)
Unschooling: My moment of doubt
The room was nearly silent. The awkwardness was palpable. Even the speech therapist … bubbly, outgoing and friendly until just a few weeks prior, absolutely refused to look us in the eye, instead staring down at some imaginary spot on the table. I remember looking at the clock – a standard issue, one-in-every-room school clock – and watching the second hand slowly sweep around until I heard the audible click that signified that another excruciatingly long minute had gone by.
Hop on over to Christian Unschooling to continue reading.
Filed under apraxia, unschooling
Daydreams
Today’s guest post is from my friend, Alice, who last shared her story of her twin baby girls in Surprises. Thanks, Alice, for another beautiful and honest post.
When I daydreamed as a girl about having a family of my own, I can’t say I envisioned the choices I would eventually make. There was no wistful sighing over a future homebirth, or longingly imagining how awesome it would be to homeschool. But there’s one choice I imagined that did become my future; I always knew I wanted a large family. But the reality of life with lots of small children? Not part of the dream. As our family grew, our views on parenting flexed and changed, and what we ended up choosing was the path of peaceful parenting.
When you know how you want to parent – and I don’t mean the impossible ideal of never making mistakes, but in general the kind of parent you want to be – it’s discouraging to feel like you fall short. There was a brief period in 2010 where not only had I found my parenting niche, but I was living it every day. Radically unschooling and parenting peacefully in harmony with our 3 boys; our home was like a little utopia. There was enough of me to go around, there was enough time in my day for my boys AND my husband AND myself.
I would read articles and blogs about gentle parenting, and what to do as alternatives to traditional authoritarian methods, and I would think, “Yup! Got that down!” My boys were 6, 4 and 1 year old; life was good. So good, in fact, that we decided to add one more baby to our family. Surprise! We added two baby girls and became a family of 7. And life was great – and it was hard, scary, frustrating and overwhelming. Nowhere could I find help and advice for my situation. It’s all well and good to redirect a toddler when you actually have free hands – what about when you’re sitting on the couch with a baby attached to each breast? It’s fine to not get upset when said toddler dumps a whole box of baking soda on the steps when you have time to clean it up – but what about when you haven’t even cleaned up the last 3 messes, there’s no food in the house, and a mountain of dirty laundry is threatening to take over?
How in the world do you parent peacefully when you are so overwhelmed you just want to yell?
Oddly enough, I never found any articles with that title. In my stress I found myself reverting to authoritarian parenting; setting arbitrary limits, losing my patience, and yelling. Lots and lots of yelling. I felt like a failure – not because I was yelling mean or abusive things (I wasn’t) but because that was not the kind of mother I wanted to be. I knew how I wanted to parent, but I could no longer see how to do it. I was barely making it day to day, going on little sleep. Patience was a thing of the past. Fun was an impossible dream.
With five kids 7 and under, I needed to find a way to implement peaceful parenting in a frequently less-than-peaceful environment.
My first step in stressful situations became choosing to give myself a timeout if I felt like yelling. It’s important to know that this didn’t change what was happening around me; during my timeouts, sometimes the babies were crying. Sometimes my toddler was crying. Sometimes I was crying. But in the 30 seconds, or 3 minutes, whatever I needed to get myself under control, I gave myself a talk and came up with a plan. “Ok. When I go back out there, I’m not going to yell. I’m going to ignore the mess, and we’ll go play outside.” Changing me and my attitude was frequently the key. If I could keep my cool, we could get through whatever the problem was without someone melting down.
Next, I lowered my expectations. A lot. If we all made it through the day and everyone was safe and had their physical and emotional needs met – success! Who cared if the house was a mess? If I managed not to yell and lose my patience – victory!
Once I changed my attitude and my expectations, the next step was creating safe zones for everyone to coexist. Baby gates became my new best friends. With my 5 and 2 year olds hitting each other, and my 2 year old not grasping the need for being gentle with babies, this was critical. I wasn’t punishing or banishing anyone, and I made sure the boys knew that. But my most basic job is to keep all of my kids safe. I gated off sections of the house, and knew that when my toddler was alone he was safe, and he couldn’t hurt anyone else. I could sit in another room and safely nurse the babies, and even if everyone wasn’t thrilled with the arrangement, it was a temporary fix.
On the absolute worst days, when I had to get out of the house, I would load all 5 kids into the car and drive for hours. The boys would watch a movie, the girls would sleep, and I would breath and enjoy the peace.
The past year has been really long. It’s contained a lot more yelling and crying (by all of us) than I would care to think about. But there’s a lot that I’m proud of too. I kept everyone safe and happy. There were no trips to the ER, no injuries. I didn’t yell hurtful or abusive things. I didn’t spank anyone. I always, always apologized when my parenting fell short, and each morning I chose to start over and try my best to parent in partnership.
I can see glimmers of the old utopia ahead. The girls turn 1 on May 19th, my boys are 8, 6 and 3. Our life has developed a smoother rhythm, and with my arms more often free I can finally be more proactive. Our days once again have more laughter than yelling, more joy than frustration, and more peace than chaos.
And those daydreams I had as a girl about my beautiful and happy large family?
I’m living them.
Alice Davis is an Army wife, mother of five, and probably the last person on earth who doesn’t have a blog. She loves to talk about unschooling, attachment parenting, and mothering multiples. In her copious amounts of free time, Alice sells handmade baby hats and tutus in her Etsy shop, Alice’s Handmade Crafts.
Filed under gentle parenting, guest posts, mindful parenting, parenting
Common Sense Parenting
I think sometimes as parents, we make things way more complicated than they need to be. I read a blog post the other day that referred to the “moral gymnastics” involved in everything from the food we buy, to the way we diaper, to the decisions we make about school. It’s a term that resonated with me, and if your emails and comments are any indication, it resonates with many of you as well.
I seem to write a lot about how I parent from the heart (because I do), and how I’ve never regretted any parental decision that’s been made by following my instinct (because I haven’t) but there’s another component that I regularly rely on. A big one.
Common sense. And it never steers me wrong.
I get some sort of … odd … objections every time I challenge the traditional, authoritarian, way of doing things. Objections that often make me wonder if we’ve lost sight of our collective common senses altogether. Whenever I write about parenting without punishments and coercion, I’m met with something that sounds like this: “But, but, they need to learn to obey you! They need to hear the word ‘no!’ What happens if they’re about to reach for a hot stove or run out into a crowded street?” As if the assumption is that a gentle parent wouldn’t dream of intervening when their child was in harm’s way. It’s a silly, silly argument. Common sense (not to mention parental instinct) tells us to protect a child who is in imminent danger. Common sense tells us that with a loving and attentive parent as their partner and guide, that kids will naturally learn not to play in traffic, and learn not to touch a hot burner, and learn not to stick a fork in an electrical outlet. We can give children choices, autonomy, and freedom; we can say YES as much as possible; and we can still trust that with gentle and compassionate guidance, that they will learn to navigate their world both safely and confidently. Common sense.
Another one I’ve heard a lot of, especially after my Spilled Milk post, is that if there is not some punitive measure taken when the child commits some infraction, that they will never learn to respect other people and/or their belongings. Common sense tells us that children learn how to treat others by watching how we, as their parents, treat others. Common sense tells us that when we demonstrate appropriate boundaries, that they will learn. For the past couple of weeks, I’ve brought Tegan with me to Paxton’s Physical Therapy appointments for his ankle. There are no separate rooms… just one big, open room, with a few beds, exercise equipment, mirrors, and a small waiting area with chairs. On any given day, there are never less than three other patients being worked with. Tegan is four, and it’s hard for four year olds to wait quietly. She’ll busy herself for a short amount of time with games on my phone, and then she’ll start to get antsy and loud. It’s normal for a four year old to get antsy and loud in a boring waiting area, but her needs to be four don’t supersede anyone else’s needs for a reasonably quiet and undisturbed session. So outside we go, where she can be loud and, well.. four, and the Physical Therapy patients can concentrate on what they came for. Common sense.
Recently, I posted about what I felt were the benefits of not placing arbitrary limits on the media that our children use. I’ve written about limits before, on everything from bedtimes, to food, to media. Naysayers immediately jump to extremes, but the fact is, no limits on bedtimes does not mean that the kids just stay up for 72 hours at a time. No limits on food does not mean that they’re existing on a diet of Ring Dings and Ho Hos. No limits on media does not mean that the 4 year old is playing a shoot-em-up game on the xbox, while the 8 year is watching Debbie Does Dallas in the other room. Common sense tells us that when we make sleep a safe, happy, thing when the kids are little, that as they grow they will trust themselves, listen to their bodies, and have a healthy relationship with both rest and wakefulness. Common sense tells us that when we fill our house with lots of good, whole, interesting foods; when we don’t let food become a battle of wills, a punishment, or a reward; when we let our children follow their own cues of hunger and thirst… that they will eat when they are hungry, stop when they are full, and appreciate food for both its nourishment and its enjoyment. Common sense tells us that the most important consideration when it comes to what they are watching, playing, & listening to is not controlling our kids, but knowing our kids, listening to our kids, and maintaining an open line of communication with our kids. Common sense tells us to watch things that may be frightening, confusing or disturbing to our young kids when they are asleep/not around, and it also tells us that they wouldn’t be interested in watching it anyway. Common sense.
Finally, common sense tells us that children, like all people (common sense tells us that children are people, too) respond to – and learn from – kindness, empathy, and love. NOT from coercion, shaming, and punishing… and certainly not from this current trend of public humiliation via the internet.
It’s not rocket science. It’s just common sense.
Filed under gentle discipline, gentle parenting, kids, learning, life, mindful parenting, parenting
Eight Awesome Things
Eight years ago today, after a scary labor and delivery, we were blessed with our third beautiful boy. In honor of his eight years, here are eight things (in no particular order) that I just adore about Everett:
1. His laugh. You know how some kids just naturally have a deep, soulful, belly laugh that just sort of bubbles out of them? The kind that when you hear it, you can’t help but feel happy yourself? That’s Everett.
2. His enthusiasm for trying new things. He loves, I mean he loves, to try new things. New sports, new hobbies, new field trips, new people, new places. Sign him up. He’s currently our busiest kid, between guitar lessons, Cub Scouts, gymnastics, basketball… and all the other things he’s teaching himself in between.
3. His personal style. Pink mohawk. Purple mohawk. Green mohawk. Bleached mohawk. He rocks them all, with more confidence than most adults I know.
4. His loyalty to his friends. He’s had the same best friend for years, and if it were legal for 8 year old boys to marry, I’m pretty sure there would have been a wedding by now. It doesn’t stop him from making other friends though, and once you’ve befriended him (which is not a hard thing to do) you’ve a friend for life.
5. His adaptability. Changes in plans never rattle him. He has the ability to flow with the circumstances better than just about anyone else I know. When we go to a Friday park day, and I don’t see someone I know well, I panic a little inside. Not Everett. He happily runs off with whatever kids happen to be there. If he doesn’t know them? No problem. He makes new friends.
6. His positive attitude. He went an entire season and a half playing basketball without making a basket during a game. Not once did it get him down. When the subject came up, he was undeterred, simply saying, “As long as I keep throwing it up there, eventually it’ll go in!” And it did. This season, he’s scored several times.
7. His freckles. Yeah, I know it’s superficial, but I’m in love with his freckles. He gets so many comments on his eyes (and he really does have absolutely beautiful blue eyes) but it’s that smattering of freckles that does me in.
8. His love of magic. Not just the David Copperfield type of magic – though he loves that too, currently more than ever – but the magic of LIFE. At eight, he’s still so full of wonder, so appreciative of dreams and mystery and miracles and beauty. I don’t just love that about him, I admire it. It’s something so many of us could learn from!
Happy Birthday sweet Everett. You are AWESOME, and I am so proud to be able to call you my son.
Walking On Egg Shells
I hate the internet. I mean, I love the internet. But sometimes… I really hate it. That has never been more true than it has the past couple of weeks. I guess maybe I shouldn’t admit that, being a blogger, but there it is. And it’s kind of the crux of my whole point today: The things I shouldn’t say.
A few days ago, I saw a video going around Facebook. It was a home video of a dad and his three kids singing Bohemian Rhapsody in their car. We’re big Queen fans around here so I thought it was cute. I was about to share to it, when I started skimming through some of the negative comments. First there was horror that one of the little girls was sitting in the front seat. Then there was something about the toddlers strap on his car seat. That was all followed up with “What an inappropriate song to be singing with your kids!” I thought about my own page, and how I’ve seen the same kind of comments on even the most innocuous seeming posts. I didn’t really feel like getting into a lengthy and exhausting “thing” over a silly video.
So I didn’t share it.
And the more I thought about it, the more ticked off (at myself!) I felt. I was really irritated that I wouldn’t post something that I liked, on my page, just because I knew there’d be negative reactions. But the truth is, I’ve grown tired.
Lately there has been a barrage of videos, articles, and other posts about discipline that I’ve strongly disagreed with. I have to really weigh whether I want to opine on them though, because doing so always gets me called judgemental. And critical. And hypocritical. And why can’t I just “support other parents no matter how they do things?” That goes doubly for when I talk about spanking. Or crying it out. Or dads shooting their daughter’s laptops.
I can’t express my opinions about schools either, because apparently that’s not fair to teachers (and the fact that I’ve never had a disparaging thing to say about teachers is of little consequence)
I have to be careful about writing too many happy, good-day stories about the kids, because those always invite the snarky, “Oh it must be so nice to have such a perfect life” comments.
I can’t write too many downer posts either, because those bring the admonishments to get over myself and Just Focus On The Positive.
When Kirk Cameron made his remarks about homosexuality recently, I was shushed before I even began to give an opinion. (I disagreed with him, for whatever it’s worth) I couldn’t say it though, without getting screamed at about how unfair I was being, and how mean it was, and how he was being unnecessarily bullied. Besides, I was told, it was too controversial of a topic anyway. It would alienate too many readers. I should stick to writing about parenting (as long as I’m not being judgemental) or homeschooling (as long as I don’t mention school) or stories about my kids (as long as they’re not too happy. Or too sad.)
I don’t like walking on egg shells. Or writing on them, as it were. I can’t write my blog to please other people. I learned a long time ago that living your life to try to please others is a painful lesson in futility anyway. I don’t want this space to become some watered down version of itself simply because it’s more comfortable. I ultimately started it for myself, and while I’m very thankful that a few people seemed to read it and pay attention, at the end of the day I’d rather have a blog that’s authentic and read by 10 than a blog that’s “safe” and read by 10,000.
I was recently unfriended and subsequently blocked by a longtime Facebook friend. I don’t know why. I’m not welcome or able to contact her to tell her this, but I have to thank her in all sincerity. Getting dumped as a friend – again – painful though it was, served as an impetus to once again renew my conviction to just be me. I can’t do anything else. How people respond to me, to my blog, to the things I share…. that’s their business, not mine. I will fully admit that I haven’t gotten this blogging thing all figured out yet. Or this parenting thing. Or this life thing. But I can also tell you – promise you even – that what you see here will be real… the good, the bad, the ugly; whether you agree, disagree, or just don’t care. It’ll be messy. That’s real life. And that’s me.
And to prove it, here’s that Queen video that I convinced myself not to post. Enjoy it, or not. 
Where I Need to Be
“Life goes by pretty fast. If you don’t stop and look around once in a while, you could miss it.” ~ Ferris Bueller
One week ago today, we were packing up our hotel room in Chicago. Saying goodbye to our little four-day getaway, and getting ready to board a plane back to Phoenix.
It was a perfect excursion, one that I hadn’t realized how much I needed. From the nightly Happy Hours, to the wonderful restaurants, to the walking and touring of the beautiful city… it was a literal breath of fresh air. Everyone’s asked me what I did every day when Mike was at his conference, and the fact is, I just was. I walked. I nursed a huge cup of coffee at Starbucks while I watched all the passers-by. I did yoga. I took myself to the movies. I sat(!) I took a nap (if like me, you’re unfamiliar with that term, it means to lay down and voluntarily sleep. On purpose. In the middle of the day.) It was an introvert’s dream vacation. The best part though, was that both when I was alone and when I was with Mike, time just stood still. There was no where to be, nothing to do, no one who needed us. For four days, time stood still.
Now that we’re home, there’s no easing back into real life. As if a switch has been flipped, it’s once again full-speed ahead. Do not pass go, do not collect $200. It’s basketball practices and gymnastics classes and park days and cub scouts and physical therapy appointments. It’s life. And I’m reminding myself – again – to breathe. God’s got this. I’m finding myself having to trust, more than I ever have before, that no matter where I am… whether it’s driving to another appointment, sitting in the bleachers, racing the four year old across the park, running an errand, or swirling around in the housework that just. doesn’t. end… I’m exactly where I need to be. Right there, in that place, in that moment, in that point in time.
One week from tomorrow, I’ll add another giant helping to my plate when my yoga teacher training starts. Right now though, I’ll breathe. I’ll sit.
The house is quiet. The birds are singing. I’m exactly where I need to be.
Dreads at 3 Months: Redefining Beauty
My dreads are three months old. Which means for ninety something days now, I’ve been carrying around these ropy, tangly, matted knots, instead of the long, thick wavy hair that partially defined me for all of my previous 38 years. And they look, well… they’re a huge mess. Their current appearance does not do much to help the opinions of my mom all the people who think that dreadlocks are unkempt or unwashed. Despite my tender loving care, some days they look a little bit – or a lot – of both. I feel this overwhelming need to say that out loud, because I can feel the looks. I can feel the wordless stares. Not necessarily because I have dreadlocks, but because I have crazy, messy, rebellious teenage dreadlocks. They’re a mess. I’m aware.
They are filled with crazy loops and twists and lumps and bumps. All of which are a normal progression in the journey of dreadlocks (and actually a good sign that they are doing what they are supposed to do), but somehow very different in reality than they were when they were merely hypothetical. There are things to do to “tame” the loops a little quicker… there are techniques that involve basically poking and threading with big needles, and/or I could always find a salon that does dread maintenance.
BUT. And it’s a big but. I’ve decided to embrace the chaos.
Some of the “maintenance” recommended by certain websites and schools of thought can actually cause a lot of damage. And the last thing I want is to commit to a long-term hairstyle, only to have them thin and fall out because I didn’t treat them properly! More than that though, is this linear idea that neat, perfect and uniform = beautiful. Did I decide to take this drastic and bold step with my hair, only to make it look like everyone else’s? If I’d wanted that, I could have gotten perfectly round extensions. No, what I signed up for was a journey. I’m surely not done with my own journey of growth, so why should my hair be any different? I have bad days and bumpy days and setbacks… but I am learning to trust that there is beauty, not just in the end, but in the process.
I didn’t like what I’d started to see in myself over the past several weeks as my hair changed. Me, forever proud not to be overly attached to things like make-up, hairstyles, and fashion… I was mourning my old hair. I’d be fine for a few days, hiding it all under a buff or bandana, and then I’d take a good look in the mirror, wanting to look nice for church or dinner or just a day out. On one shoulder would be the confidence. “You can own this! You’re awesome!” And on the other, would be that insecure teenager again. “But. But. It’s not pretty.”
I am so much more than my hair.
At the same time, my hair’s become an outward symbol of an inward process, more so than I ever could have imagined when I started this journey three months ago. I look forward to having mature, beautiful dreads in a couple of years. I do. But now, I look forward to the journey even more… loops, bumps, and all.
Once a little boy was playing outdoors and found a fascinating caterpillar. He carefully picked it up and took it home to show his mother. He asked his mother if he could keep it, and she said he could if he would take good care of it.
The little boy got a large jar from his mother and put plants to eat, and a stick to climb on, in the jar. Every day he watched the caterpillar and brought it new plants to eat.
One day the caterpillar climbed up the stick and started acting strangely. The boy worriedly called his mother who came and understood that the caterpillar was creating a cocoon. The mother explained to the boy how the caterpillar was going to go through a metamorphosis and become a butterfly.
The little boy was thrilled to hear about the changes his caterpillar would go through. He watched every day, waiting for the butterfly to emerge. One day it happened, a small hole appeared in the cocoon and the butterfly started to struggle to come out.
At first the boy was excited, but soon he became concerned. The butterfly was struggling so hard to get out! It looked like it couldn’t break free! It looked desperate! It looked like it was making no progress!
The boy was so concerned he decided to help. He ran to get scissors, and then walked back (because he had learned not to run with scissors…). He snipped the cocoon to make the hole bigger and the butterfly quickly emerged!
As the butterfly came out the boy was surprised. It had a swollen body and small, shriveled wings. He continued to watch the butterfly expecting that, at any moment, the wings would dry out, enlarge and expand to support the swollen body. He knew that in time the body would shrink and the butterfly’s wings would expand.
But neither happened!
The butterfly spent the rest of its life crawling around with a swollen body and shriveled wings.
It never was able to fly…
As the boy tried to figure out what had gone wrong his mother took him to talk to a scientist from a local college. He learned that the butterfly was SUPPOSED to struggle. In fact, the butterfly’s struggle to push its way through the tiny opening of the cocoon pushes the fluid out of its body and into its wings. Without the struggle, the butterfly would never, ever fly. The boy’s good intentions hurt the butterfly.
Struggling is an important part of any growth experience. In fact, it is the struggle that causes you to develop your ability to fly.
Filed under about me, acceptance, being happy with what is, dreadlocks, life, self image
Unlimited Screen Time?
Almost two weeks ago, Paxton (11 at the time of this writing) jumped up playing basketball, took a bad landing, and ended up severely spraining his ankle. For the past 13 days he’s been on the couch and I’ve been playing nurse. Injury not withstanding, I’ve really enjoyed this extra time I’ve suddenly gotten with him. We’ve watched countless movies together – everything from Bruce Almighty to Lord of the Rings to a documentary about the Titanic. We’ve watched plenty of TV together too, including a several-episode-long marathon of Criss Angel’s magic. The TV and movies were fun while they lasted, but he eventually asked me to bring him a laptop. We then watched videos on YouTube, shared and compared our various wanderings on our respective computers, and had discussion after discussion about all of the above. He has since moved on to teaching himself card tricks, and he has spent the past 48 hours practicing and perfecting his skills.
In our house, we don’t limit or otherwise try to control television, movies, computers, or other types of “screen time”…. even when no one is injured. All of that technology is simply another tool we’re all free to use, or not use, as we see fit. Sometimes our house is humming with televisions, computers, and video games… and sometimes the only humming comes from the kids. Yesterday (on a rare Sunday at home) no one so much as glanced at a TV until evening came.
When I first became a parent, screen time made me all kinds of uneasy. I wanted my kids (well, my one kid at the time) to read a book, or do a puzzle, or play outside, or use his imagination… not sit in front of a screen. I was self-righteous in my resolve, telling anyone who asked that we didn’t do much TV… that in our house we focused on learning activities. And how much could he possibly learn from a SCREEN?
Well. As it turns out, a lot. As I gradually let go and lifted my limits, I realized that those things I had feared not only didn’t hamper Spencer’s learning, but added to it immensely! We still read books. We still did puzzles. We still played outside. He still used his imagination. But we’d also opened up a whole new world to enjoy together, one that we still appreciate and share… without limits and without conditions. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.
One of the most common questions or objections I get from unschoolers new to the idea of unlimited screen time is that whenever they’ve tried, it’s made their kids unruly or agitated… or as this one reader states, it has just been a “disaster”:
I love the idea of unlimited screen time, but every time I go with it disasters happen. The kids (5 and 3) start bouncing around on the couch, biting each other, kicking, etc. It is worst when they have been watching movies all day so I can’t help but associate it with the screen time.
So why the disaster? Why, if it works so well for us (and for lots of other families) do so many people try it only to pronounce it a failure? Here are a few things that could be happening, in no particular order:
1. They’re bored. They’re watching TV or playing a video game not because they particularly want to, but because no better alternative has been presented or offered. They’re feeling pent-up or frustrated, so it comes out in their behavior. It would come out in my behavior too. Maybe they’d rather be outside, or baking cookies, or drawing a picture, or just hanging out with mom. When that’s the case, it’s not the fault of the screen. It’s simply a matter of being involved, maybe doing a little detective work, offering suggestions, and offering yourself.
2. They’re hungry. Or tired. Or in need of a break. Again, not the fault of the screen. A lot of times, kids (and adults for that matter) will get really engrossed in something and not listen to their bodies. They miss cues of hunger or fatigue until they’re to the point of grumpy. Ideally, as parents we should step in before that happens.
3. Parents are coming into it with preconceived ideas about how it will affect their kids. In other words, they’re expecting their children to behave in a negative way. In the same way that many parents who think, “Oh if he has those cookies now, he’ll be bouncing off the walls all night” will then observe said bouncing off the walls, and feel validated for being right… even if the behavior was completely unrelated. Even if the perceived “hyper” behavior wasn’t so unreasonable after all. We tend to see what we want to see.
4. The child/children have just gotten really engrossed in what they’re watching or playing, to the point of wanting to shut out what’s going on around them, and being frustrated by distractions and interruptions. I know a lot of people think of things like TV watching as passive activities. You just sit and stare and become a zombie. I have never found that to be case. For me (and for my kids who choose to watch TV) I think it’s often the opposite. I get very involved. Certain shows and movies make me come alive. I fall in love with the stories,with the dialogue, with the writing, with the timing. And just as with any other activity that I’m really immersed in…. whether it’s watching a movie, or reading, or writing, or creating something… when I’m interrupted or have to stop, I feel frustrated. And while as an adult I can generally sometimes handle that frustration and transition without making too much of a fuss about it, it’s twenty times harder for a child.
5. Maybe it really does affect your child differently than mine. (There’s my little disclaimer: I don’t pretend to know the inner workings of someone else’s child or family) If that’s the case, I strongly believe that there’s still a way to come to a peaceful and respectful solution that takes everyone’s needs and wishes into account, without being controlling and falling the way of using screen time as a punishment or reward.
Our lives are richer because of technology to be sure :: said as she types on her laptop with high speed internet while simultaneously watching a sci-fi movie with the 11 and 7 year olds :: At the same time, because it’s treated as no more or less important or valuable as any of the other tools at our disposal, the kids can all take it or leave it.
Right now, they’re leaving it. The movie got too confusing, and there are important card tricks to be done.
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You might also want to read No thank you, we’ll stay plugged; and Blame the Video Games
Filed under learning, life, technology, television, unschooling, video games
