tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-11424207787422592522024-03-19T06:09:00.014-07:00Every Moment Is RightOur adventures through parenthood inspired by the Pikler/RiE approach and NVC. Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.comBlogger26125tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-20409007534249799112012-12-07T06:24:00.004-08:002012-12-07T06:35:50.881-08:00Don't laugh at my fear. I won't laugh at yours.<b>We were walking in the park the other day, a slow lovely afternoon. A dog ran past us and Antek - who is afraid of dogs - walked very quickly to the other side when he saw the dog approaching. The owner of the dog smiled at me and said, in passing, 'so cute'. I try not to engage in conversations like these, with people who walk past and make casual comments about my child, even ones I completely disagree with. I try to ignore, most of the time. I do, however, have to say this: fear is not cute. A person who is afraid or uncomfortable, is not cute. My fears are certainly not cute. Are yours?</b><br />
<br />
I am afraid of spiders. There, I said it. See, when I was a little girl my cousin's favourite game was catching spiders, putting them in my hair so deep they could not get out and then laughing his head off when I was trying to get them out. My hair was long, back then. And we lived in Poland, so we are not talking tarantulas or anything big and hairy with thick legs, nothing that could bite you. But does it matter? I don't think it does. Fear is not always rational. In fact, probably most times it is not. Can a tiny little spider hurt me? No. Do I know that? Yes. Am I still scared? You bet.<br />
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<i>"What difference do it make if the thing you scared of is real or not?" (Toni Morrison)</i><br />
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I think none. It doesn't matter if the thing you're scared of is real or not; it definitely doesn't matter if it's scary to other people - it is scary to you. This is you emotion, your battle, your fear. Only you can deal with it. And I'm sure we would much rather get rid of all our fears (well, most of them), but is it that easy? Here is another thing, too. I believe other people making you feel bad about how you feel is not really that helpful. I am beginning to be more comfortable around spiders. I would not want one as pet, but I don't run out of the room the second I see one. Do you want to know my secret? My husband, for years now, has been patiently taking spiders out of my view and out of the house. Not once did he judge me. Not once did he laugh, or say it was 'cute'. Not once did he say anything along these lines: 'Hey, don't be scared, it's just a small spider'. See, I *know* it's just a small spider - I can see it. And I would much rather *not* be scared. <i></i><br />
<i><br /></i>
<i>“Anything that’s human is mentionable, and anything that is mentionable
can be more manageable. When we can talk about our feelings, they become
less overwhelming, less upsetting, and less scary. The people we trust
with that important talk can help us know that we are not alone.”
(Fred Rogers)</i><br />
<i><br /></i>
How often do we hear comments towards children: 'Don't be scared. It's just a dog.' I'm sure this child knows it's *just a dog*. To him, however, this dog is scary. It is big. And maybe, just maybe, he was accidentally knocked down by one when he could barely walk (like our son was), and is just not up for another challenge yet. Think of the perspective, too - things that are small and insignificant, or just plain normal to us, might not be to our children. Children who are scared are not 'cute' or 'adorable'. They are scared. Would I rather see my son happily running after dogs and playing with them as comfortably as I am? Sure. But does it matter what I would rather see him do, in light of the way he feels? One day, I'm sure, we will get a dog and he will love it, like I did mine. Heck, we might even get a spider. But until then, we are stuck with our fears, and the empathy of those around us is much more helpful in dealing with them than the wink of a stranger. Don't laugh at my fear of spiders. And don't laugh at my son's fear of dogs. We will not laugh at yours - everyone has something they are working on.<br />
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'Don't be scared' means, at least to my ears and my mind, 'Don't feel what you are feeling.' But can we really do that?<br />
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Janet Lansbury's wonderful post about the problem with words like 'cute' is right <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/2011/12/the-problem-with-cute-kids/">here</a>! <br />
<i><br /></i>
Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-81690717495518416282012-10-25T01:36:00.001-07:002012-10-25T12:40:28.627-07:00Autumn Agendas<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;">
<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXmWvO_01TSrOJaH8m4QN_nh8pdNegbCyBtA1AUl4oy-X9yQ7pBVfVJ5TeKEDK5ZDL5AlcvD5VEWKXvDf33BiIFZdJz7kXU9ocC1AbQWQplGz4GwRi8WgxbOUZC0drPmphI8cdDPOgMCg/s1600/oswiecona.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEiXmWvO_01TSrOJaH8m4QN_nh8pdNegbCyBtA1AUl4oy-X9yQ7pBVfVJ5TeKEDK5ZDL5AlcvD5VEWKXvDf33BiIFZdJz7kXU9ocC1AbQWQplGz4GwRi8WgxbOUZC0drPmphI8cdDPOgMCg/s320/oswiecona.jpg" width="212" /></a></div>
<b>It's difficult to let go of our agendas. Well, for me it is. Somehow it seems easier when it came to development, language, movement - we knew it would come, we didn't wait. We didn't anticipate. We didn't want specific things at specific times. But when it comes to... fun?</b><br />
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It's autumn here, and although for Maureen and Katherine it's closer to strawberry season, up here leaves are putting on their finest colors and organizing a show. We were walking in the forest, just the two of us. Leaves were dancing, and it was as beautiful as it can be in autumn. I had been there the day before and wanted to show Antek a hut I had found - someone put together a bunch of large sticks and branches and made a really lovely place for kids to play in. He would love it. I knew he would, and I wanted to get there quickly. I wanted him to have fun. I was anxious to see a happy smile on his face when he saw the hut, when he realized he could climb into it, and that the floor is made of leaves and sticks.<br />
<br />
He knelt down suddenly and kept looking down on the ground, on the leaves. I looked where he was looking, but tried to get him to get up and go - come on, let's get to the hut, you'll like it. He looked at me and kept looking down, fascinated with something I could not see, maybe something that was not even there? I knelt down next to him and waited. And waited. And waited. And then waited some more...<br />
<br />
Suddenly I remembered that morning, Antek came running to me from the garden with a cup he had found somewhere in the sand. He was holding it up, I was busy doing something else. I looked at him and said: 'Oh, are you having tea?'. He looked at me with the same expression he just had a few minutes ago. Not knowing what I was talking about. Not sure what I meant. Sure, I wanted to join in the fun, but did I have to jump the line? Whose game is it, anyway? Had I waited a couple more seconds, I might have found out what the
cup was, or maybe that there was something about it, or that it was a
part of some building, or a ship...<br />
<br />
Paweł came home the other day from the playground laughing about some woman who was urging her son to stop playing with whatever he was playing now, because 'it was time to go and have fun on the slides, come on you like the slides.' How easy is it to assume we know better what the other person wants? And why? It seems especially ironic, when it comes to having 'fun', don't you think? <br />
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And then I remembered. Something that disappears the second you hold on to your agenda. Something I'd forgotten for too long, but luckily it was still there. <i>There are two ways to wash the dishes. The first is to wash the dishes in order to have clean dishes and the second is to wash the dishes in order to wash the dishes.</i> (Thitch Nhat Hanh). I moved closer to Antek and looked where he was looking. I took a deep breath and looked down. That's it. Not waiting to get to the hut, just sitting and looking to sit and look.<br />
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<i>Everything has its beauty but not everyone sees it. </i>(Confucius)<br />
<br />
The leaves were beautiful, their edges were sharp as if someone had traced them with a thick brush. They were piled one on top of the other, with sticks coming out of the pile, as if someone had a plan, some lines and some curves. It could have been a detail from one of Escher's paintings. But then I saw something moving underneath, a flurry of little legs trying to get somewhere, in a hurry but also in a lot of effort - beetles were trying to push something aside to make room for... I could not see what. There were three of them, I had never seen ones like these before - they were dark blue and green, moving really fast, their colors shiny in between the leaves. I could not stop staring at them. Antek looked up at me and smiled. Did he know?<br />
<br />
After a little while we got up and slowly walked playing with the leaves. We got to the hut and had fun in it. Unhurried, unforced fun. Fun when we were ready for it. The way we wanted, and at the time we both wanted. Would he have enjoyed it as much if I had hurried him over there? I don't know. All I know is that it is all to easy to forget who we're doing something for, or why we're doing it in the first place.<br />
<br />
It's difficult to let go of our agendas. But if we do, we might just catch a glimpse of that beetle.<br />
<br />
<i>Photo: Paweł Banaś</i> Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com6tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-57684326363844587682012-04-18T13:28:00.003-07:002012-04-18T23:42:32.491-07:00On the move. Or: how to tame the dragon.<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnfIz6KHiZSbSLV8FNDL4IquePKSuDKG-JDDhP8GOMlsNktwgH-5xWVTM8fYgYPJJ7Fumz-SNZsIkt7GGiPbLRo6ll1wzJ1ubBQyOX9ijYoMX7yhhrRzIA3oMpqtWbIppvQQCombit2Y8/s1600/anto+w+pudlach.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhnfIz6KHiZSbSLV8FNDL4IquePKSuDKG-JDDhP8GOMlsNktwgH-5xWVTM8fYgYPJJ7Fumz-SNZsIkt7GGiPbLRo6ll1wzJ1ubBQyOX9ijYoMX7yhhrRzIA3oMpqtWbIppvQQCombit2Y8/s320/anto+w+pudlach.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><b>We have moved. Again. Yes, I know. And no, I don't want to talk about it. I am beginning to have a reaction to cardboard boxes. When I notice a book missing on the shelf, I begin to panic - is this it again? Are we packing, again?</b><br />
<br />
<b>Antek will be two in May. On his birthday he will have lived in seven flats/houses, in three different countries, on two continents (and two hemispheres). On one hand if I had it my way, we would have our own fridge a long time ago. But on the other - this <i>is</i> my way, no matter what I say, and if I want to be very honest about it, I would not have it any other way. So here, I'm not one to give advice, but I can share what I know about moving around with children of different ages. I can tell you what worked and what didn't for us. And I can tell you that so far it looks like Antek has taken it extremely well - from moving houses, through unpacking boxes to 48 hour flights. </b><br />
<br />
Moving is stressful. Going away with a small child is not stress-free either, even if you are going for a long-awaited holiday in Sardinia. <b> </b>Packing is not pleasant, flights even less so, the return home (or setting up a new home) is not the easiest thing we have ever done. But it is part of the journey, like every change, and if we need to do it, we might as well make it a meaningful part of the journey rather than the dreaded bit that will be over soon. <br />
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Here are a couple of thoughts. I am putting them all here, some work for some ages, others for other... ;) So this really is a messy write-up of everything I know about dealing with changes, moves, planes and such. The way to tame that dragon.<br />
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<b>Talk, explain, and then talk some more</b> <br />
<br />
We did this with every trip we took, every new thing that came our way, every change that we expected. From the beginning. We tried to explain what was going to happen, what was happening, and later went over what had happened. It might seem like a lot, but isn't it what we naturally do anyway? Think about it this way: when you are planning to move home (go away, change something) you talk it over with your partner, your friend or whoever is involved. You then continue talking your way through it (do you think this is the right exit? which bus should we take now? do you have the address?). And once all is done, it all needs to be said, it appears, so we pour ourselves a glass of wine and ... well, talk about it. We love to talk :)<br />
<br />
Babies and small children tend to be left out of this experience, and maybe they are actually ones who need it most. Talking and explaining what will happen prepares the baby for the unknown. It is a way of taming the experience beforehand - things are not as scary when we can give them a name. We know that about feelings, but I think we also know that about events and things that surround us - once they have a name, they are not strange and unknown anymore. When Antek was smaller, we showed him pictures of trains before we got on a train. We played with airplanes when we were about to leave for New Zealand. We gave names to things and events that were about to happen. And then, once it was actually happening, we repeated what we had said before - and these were no longer unfamiliar strange things it was 'the train we told you about? This is what it really looks like'. And in addition to making it familiar, it was also an adventure - this train we talked about is finally real. <br />
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After our big move to NZ on the first evening Antek couldn't sleep (time difference, season difference - any change possible, you name it, we had it :). We talked about the trip, that we just took. We talked about what we did. We remembered funny things that happened on the plane, we laughed and Antek seemed again to calm down a bit more. Now that he is finding his own words, the house we have just moved into is 'our new house'. A lot of rooms got names before we moved - 'You will have your own room for the first time. It will be called "Antek's room"'. When we moved, we showed Antek his room and he looked at us and said: 'Antek's room', and went down for a nap on his new mattress like a charm. Words matter - they give a different meaning to our experience. Something we cannot describe seems much more scary than it may really be. <br />
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<b>Add pictures to your words</b><br />
<br />
I don't paint or draw for Antek. This is the only time I make an exception. <b> </b><br />
<br />
'One picture is worth...', well, you know. Sometimes it is easier to explain when we have an image alongside it. This is what I learned from my wiser friends - <b> </b>telling a story is one thing, but illustrating it gives a rise to completely new feelings. So in preparing for the trip - take a piece of paper and draw and airplane. Then after you come back, take it out again - do you recognize this one? Remember how we were on one? Some happy or unhappy feelings can emerge in the process, so be prepared. But if they don't emerge, it doesn't mean they are not there, so...<br />
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When we came to live in Holland we stayed with a wonderful couple for the first month. When we were about to leave, the lady we were staying with took a piece of paper and made a simple picture of herself, her husband, and their house. 'This is our house. This is where you have been staying. But now you are going to move'. Antek kept this picture, and after a few weeks he still kept taking it out and showing it to us: 'Aunt Aafke' he would say 'she is home'. To tame the dragon you have to know what the dragon looks like.<br />
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<b>Practice</b><br />
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This one I find really hard to remember about, but also really important. We know the drill - we have done it so mane times, the airports, the buses, passport control, boarding passes. Kids don't. The ones who are doing it for the first time, have no idea what is about to hit them. And rather than pretending like it doesn't matter, and look there is a man with a funny hat, and it will be over soon, we prefer to prepare.<br />
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It can be a game - you can go through the steps together, pretend you are at the airport, or getting on the bus. Pretend that a piece of paper is the ticket, explain what happens. <a href="http://www.slate.com/articles/life/family/2012/04/children_s_memories_toddlers_remember_better_than_you_think_.html">Don't underestimate your little one's memory,</a> we found Antek remembered really well what we do on the bus once he played with a 'bus card'. Also - once it is fun at home, it might actually be fun once you get there! <br />
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<b>Don't pretend it's not going to happen. </b><br />
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It is. It is going to happen if you tell yourself it won't. But don't sweat about it either. If you have to move - you will move. If you pretend it's not going to happen it might hit you. If you worry too much and are anxious about it - your child will be anxious too. We had to take 6 flights to get from NZ to Poland (the airline cancelled some flights, the changes were awful, there were also delays). The minute I found out what it was going to be I panicked (thank God I didn't know there were also going to be delays...). But then we thought: we have to do it, no matter what. There are no options. So worrying about it is not going to change anything. We will still have to do it. It will be tiring, but we will get there in the end.<br />
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That's it.<br />
<br />
And we got there. After 48 hours and 6 flights. To a place Antek has not seen before (again...)<br />
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If you worry - your child will panic. If it is worrying or scary for you, imagine how scary it is to see your Mum or Dad scared. If it scares them surely it must be something I should be scared of? But if you are scared, you won't fool your little one that you're not. So, as always, take care of your own feelings first. Have a glass of wine. Talk to your husband, or wife. If it has to happen, it has to happen. And it will. And it will be like that dreaded visit to the dentist - in 48 hours it will be over.<br />
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So yes, we will move home, get on that plane, have that change in our lives again. But since we have decided, it is what it is, all we can do is do it with grace, patience... and just that last bit of energy :)<br />
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<b>Get everyone involved</b><br />
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<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFmtTklCoa2xTBWxRxKrHPa60xgYJy-remeWProNWpePgbUrygoQSNTXi07E1PiaiKW9dqsXMyH4z6cP26pAOVY1xm-exj27B4oJLY5-WarIy0EL3HY0aX0r64zhLVCNf_Uf3eSVMTV8/s1600/anto+i+tata+i+IKEA.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjVFmtTklCoa2xTBWxRxKrHPa60xgYJy-remeWProNWpePgbUrygoQSNTXi07E1PiaiKW9dqsXMyH4z6cP26pAOVY1xm-exj27B4oJLY5-WarIy0EL3HY0aX0r64zhLVCNf_Uf3eSVMTV8/s320/anto+i+tata+i+IKEA.jpg" width="212" /></a>Let your child see the new home (the plane) at their own pace. If you can - let them touch what they want, and allow as much time as you can. Walk around the plane, tell them what is where. remind them what you talked about before. But also - let them have fun. To the extent that you can allow it - let them chose things, let them have things their own way.<br />
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In our new flat in Amsterdam, we were unpacking really slowly for the first time. And we found this was much better, even thought it may have been tiring at times. Rather than getting it over with as something terrible, we played with the moment (until we got sick and tired of dust and went away for two days not worrying about the remaining boxes which I also highly recommend!). We let Antek help put his things together. We let him chose what he wanted where (which was admittedly <i>not</i> what I would have done with his toys, but these were the choices we let him make - again, only to the extent we could live with). He found a pot he liked and decided he wants it in his room, on the shelf. So be it. There is enough stuff we have decided on, if the pot is what it takes - sure it can live in Antek's room :)<br />
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It was fun for him, more relaxing for us, but above all - it was a process of becoming familiar with everything. Of taming the dragon. <br />
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<b>Breathe </b><br />
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I don't know if this helps. But if you are going to move with a small child, remember that all they need is you. The house will change, the country will change, the plane will be shaky. But you, the most wonderful Mom and Dad in the world, are still there. And you rock. You have tamed the dragon.Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-10190601907818943852012-03-01T01:50:00.006-08:002012-03-01T12:12:31.232-08:00I don't know how to tell you...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSW3N7DMmEeJH_UANvstCQVXJ2zccsmTa8QeC52U4xZaLT2RN2804ZkFnsmy8yXnGBGOZQ-dDX-itZlsjHQ_mPGHam5P6H-IKuBnvvMnYNeMAJOvye99sFMZj-fKQs81nqy3TcG-PS58Q/s1600/lie.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="margin-left: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgSW3N7DMmEeJH_UANvstCQVXJ2zccsmTa8QeC52U4xZaLT2RN2804ZkFnsmy8yXnGBGOZQ-dDX-itZlsjHQ_mPGHam5P6H-IKuBnvvMnYNeMAJOvye99sFMZj-fKQs81nqy3TcG-PS58Q/s1600/lie.jpg" /></a></div><b>I saw this photo the other day.It made me smile, but only for a moment. Then it made me think - why do we lie to our children? </b><br />
<br />
<div><br />
</div><br />
I go to work most days of the week. It's not easy leaving the house, I would much rather stay at home and spend time with my son, but that, unfortunately, it is life ;) When my Mum came over for a visit Antek started crying when he saw I was not there. 'Shhh' she said 'Mama is in the toilet'. He got up, ran to the toilet door, pointed to it and said: 'mama pee?'...<br />
<br />
<br />
<b>Too small, too young...</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
More often than not I think the reason we lie is to protect our children from something. Protect them from the truth, which might, in our opinion, be too difficult for them to handle. But that is an assumption we are making, and we can't know for sure - we are assuming these emotions will be too much for our child. And to a certain extent, they probably are. But how else can we learn to handle these emotions, if not by feeling them in the loving arms of those who care? So, instead of providing a seemingly easier solution ('Mama is in the toilet') it might be worth telling our children the truth and help them deal with it. So that in the future they can do it on their own...<br />
<br />
When I went back to work and Antek started staying with his Dad during the day, he cried when I was leaving. Every day. He was sad that I was going to work, as was I. But he also started to understand that this is what happens every day, and started waiting for me to come back after his snack. Now when I turn the key in the door I hear a loud happy 'Maaaaama!'. Pawel helped him through those sad moments in the mornings by being there and explaining. Not making life seem easier, but treating his fears and anxieties with respect.<br />
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<b>They won't remember</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
Sometimes we lie, because we think they won't remember. I've done that. I know now it's not true - they will remember. Antek has. And even if they don't remember, they will start remembering at some point - but how do we know when to stop making things up?<br />
<br />
Sometimes when our kids want something in the shop we tell them they have another one at home, waiting. When they want a sweet we tell them they will get it later. Or tomorrow. And then we forget, or hope that they will forget. So we make promises we know we won't keep, or threaten them with things we know we won't do ('If you don't stop I will...').<br />
<br />
But maybe it's ok to just say, honestly and respectfully, to our child: 'I know you want that toy, but we can't buy it'. Or just simply explain that we will not let them hit, throw or kick, without making "promises" we won't keep. It might seem like a difficult thing in the beginning, but once we started doing just that, Antek seems to accept certain things much easier now. Sometimes he wants something (don't we all?) that he can't have. We've all been there and know it's difficult (I know I really find it difficult sometimes...). Sometimes he gets angry - but don't we all get angry when things don't go the way we planned or hoped? So now we say: 'I know you really wanted to play with that jar. But it's made of glass and I can't let you have it'. And then he shakes his head and walks away... most of the time :) But we work hard on not saying: 'If you don't stop touching that I will...' or promising 'I will buy you a different one' and then forgetting about it. How many promises like this before he stops believing in what we say?<br />
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<b>Just because it's easier</b><br />
<b><br />
</b><br />
I was sitting on the floor the other day and Antek brought me a little box he'd been trying to open. I wanted him to try and open it by himself, but he held his hand and passed me the box. 'I can't open it' I said quickly. Pawel looked at me and laughed 'Maybe you should at least try?'. We both laughed at this, but I never did it again. If I don't want to do something, I say. If the toys have to stay in the box we say they have to stay in the box. We don't say that toys are tired, or that we can't find them anymore, or that we don't know where they are, or that the box is closed so tight we can't open it anymore (yep, that and more - we've done it all :).<br />
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It is interesting though, how hard it is sometimes, and how easy it is to just say something very quickly to get the desired effect. We want things fixed. Now. But what about the long run?<br />
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It's easier to lose trust in someone than to gain it back. And I'm sure all parents would want their children to trust them. And there is, of course, the other side too. We want our kids to behave politely, so we behave politely - we model their behaviour. We say 'thank you' and 'please' so they learn to say 'thank you' and 'please'. Well...<br />
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<i>photo taken from http://signewhitson.com/2011/09/i-can-not-tell-a-lie-when-role-modeling-backfires/</i>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-20909451854758395872012-01-22T23:57:00.000-08:002012-01-22T23:59:01.363-08:00A personal note on rewards, praise and punishment...<b>Parenting is exciting. We knew that it would be. What we didn't know, was that it was not only going to be about parenting our son. We had no idea it would also be about parenting ourselves. 'Reparenting' ourselves. And getting to all those bits and pieces we put away and have kept hidden hoping they would not turn up, ever. Or to those bits and pieces that we put away, and hoped to return to later. Now, apparently, seems to be the time.</b><br />
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<b>Same thing?</b><br />
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<b></b>We have consciously chosen the life without punishments or rewards. Antek is now just over 20 months old. So far so good. No punishments of any kinds. No rewards and really working hard on 'acknowledging' rather than 'praising'. In other words: 'You did it by yourself' rather than 'Well done' or 'Good job'. We are very careful of all of this, because parenting Antek we have also realised he is not the only one going through this process. My husband was raised with punishments. I was raised with rewards and praise, lots of it. We have both found it really hard to know what we really want in life and even harder to go for it. He - because he is often scared he will not be good enough, or what will happen if he fails. I - because I am still fighting with the overwhelming need to please others, to have them looking at me when I succeed, to applause. We both fear failure, for seemingly different reasons. We are both working on understanding our dreams and following them, even if (or especially when?) other people think this is not what we should be doing. It is equally hard for both of us. So, in our house - no praise, no reward, no punishment. Or maybe it is all the same thing?<br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i>Rewards and punishments are not opposites at all; they are two sides of the same coin. And it is a coin that does not buy very much. </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">(Alfie Kohn, 'Punished by Rewards')</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">When Pawel and I first started talking about it we didn't really understand what it meant. How can praise/ rewards and punishment be the same? But the more we talked the more we understood, that all this really is, is a way of controlling someone. If you're good, you get a cookie. If you're bad, you don't get to read a book with me. Now, I know that this is oversimplifying things, but... is it really all that different?</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b>The need for praise</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">While a lot of people agree wholeheartedly on the 'no punishment' bit, it seems to be a bit more controversial to talk about 'no rewards' bit. It seems great to be telling your child how wonderful they are, how beautiful their picture is, how proud we are of them, And I used to agree - it boosts self-confidence. But I realised it does something more than that. I fight often now, years later, against looking for applause when I have achieved something. I have made decisions in my life that were not 'mine' really - they were made because they would get me approval, applause and, well, praise. And it gets worse - I have done things and made decisions <b>because I knew they would get me some applause</b>, without stopping to think if that was what I really believed in, or if that was what I really wanted to do. In other words, how I have felt about myself depended on other people's approval. I'm still working on it...</span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">Antek was in the living room with Pawel the other day, both of them happily playing the djembe. It was great to watch them having so much fun together. Antek finally worked up the courage and started drumming on his own, smiling to himself. He looked up for a minute and saw me standing in the doorway. I looked at him, smiled back and (???) nodded my head as if approving of what he was doing. I have no idea where that came from. I know it was subtle and I should not overreact. But I also know that after that he kept looking up all the time, looking as if he wanted my approval. I went back to the kitchen. So, no 'good job' or 'well done' in our house.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b>Maybe we don't need it?</b></span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">I have one more problem with rewards and praise - one that I see as contradicting what I believe to be essentially human nature. I believe human beings want to do things. I believe we want to play, learn, create. And we don't need a cookie to do that. In fact, a cookie might be in the way.</span></span><br />
<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><i>... our everyday practices rest on an implicit theory of human nature that fail to do us justice. When we repeatedly promise rewards to children for acting responsibly, or to students for making an effort to learn something new, or to employees for doing quality work, we are assuming that they could not or would not choose to act this way on their own. If the capacity for responsible action, the natural love of learning, and the desire to do good work are already part of who we are, then the tacit assumption to do the contrary can fairly be dehumanizing. </i></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">(Alfie Kohn, 'Punished by Rewards')</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">I have seen Antek over and over trying to achieve something, leaving it, then going back. The block does not fit in the box. He looks up at me, goes away then comes back, tries again and again and again. When he finally gets the block in the box he is so happy, there is nothing more rewarding than that. He smiles to himself, sometimes says something, or even laughs out loud. Sometimes he looks at me. 'You put the block in the box' I say. He nods and walks away happy. 'Fantastic, I'm so proud of you' I think. </span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b>And on the ridiculous side of things...</b></span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"><b></b></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">But also, with all the praise we hear, is it not becoming a bit meaningless? A bit worn-out? Does it not also sound like that to children after they heard it seventeen times that day? And then I wonder what happens - do they (or rather, do we) just become immune to it? Or do they need it more and more...</span><br />
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<span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: medium;"><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;"></span></span><span class="Apple-style-span" style="font-family: Arial, Tahoma, Helvetica, FreeSans, sans-serif; font-size: 15px; line-height: 20px;">We spent Christmas in Poland, with our families, where everything Antek did was 'fantastic', 'wonderful' or 'great'. Everything he did ended up with a round of applause. We are back to our daily lives now, and we had to work hard for Antek to get back to his routine. And to doing things just because he likes doing them, not because someone will clap. Sometimes we had to look away. 'Great sitting' (hmm?), 'Wow, look at you walking, wonderful!' (huh?), 'Good job eating dinner!' (this one was actually a little worrying). The only thing Antek did that received no applause was passing gas. Still waiting for that one, though :)</span>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com18tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-62310224561277287272011-11-30T18:23:00.000-08:002011-12-02T23:06:43.179-08:00Food is on my mind...<b>Food. I have been talking to so many people about food lately, that really I just have to write about it. I don't know where to start, so I'm thinking back to the table I left at home going to work the other day. A little table with a finished breakfast. Well, finished in our definition of what it means - there was still some food on the plate when Antek took his bib off, handed it to me, looked me in the eye, smiled and walked away. A few mouthfulls of scrambled eggs. A couple of bites of bread. Some tea on the bottom of the glass. Breakfast is finished. We don't go for 'One more spoon? For Mummy?'</b><br />
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My husband and I have been struggling with this ourselves for months now. We love eating, we love food, and we love spending time in the kitchen. And there is nothing wrong with that. Except that, quite a while ago we realised that our eating habits are not what we want them to be, and that Pawel's portion of pasta would really shock you (and the fact that you can't see him from behind all this food). How can we know that enough is enough? How can we know if we're eating because we're still hungry, or because we simply don't know when to stop. Neither of us has a problem with obesity, but healthy eating habits are about more than that, you'll agree. So we mindfully worked through our eating habits, we slowed down and started listening to our bodies more. And we let our son do the same. Just so he maybe doesn't have to go through the same thinking we are doing right now, in the future. Fingers crossed.<br />
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<i>Respect. <span class="goog_qs-tidbit goog_qs-tidbit-1 goog_qs-tidbit-hilite">When the subject is mentioned, pediatrician Emmi Pikler sticks out her tongue.</span> It is not a sign of displeasure from the distinguished 79-year-old infant specialist, but an imitation of a baby’s first rejecting movement, an early signal from the child of having had enough to eat. </i>(from an interview with Emmi Pikler, reproduced on Little River School <a href="http://littleriverschool.wordpress.com/2011/03/04/respect-is-key-to-baby-development/">blog</a>)<br />
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As always, we have found that it's all about<b> trust</b> and <b>respect. </b>Trusting your child to know how much he needs, and respecting his decision to stop. Trusting your child that he knows his body better than anyone else, and respecting this body enough not to want to impose your will. All of this, if practices early, can lead to <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/2011/08/parenting-to-prevent-childhood-obesity-guest-post-by-kiyah-duffey/">life-long benefits. </a> But recently I have been talking to so many people about food so many times, that it has led me to believe it's not only these kinds of benefits we are talking about here...<br />
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<b>Know when to stop</b><br />
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The first years of life are all about learning. It's all one big experience (not that it changes much after that) and also learning how to learn. Learning what we like and what we don't like. Learning what we are comfortable with. Learning what is and what is not acceptable to us. But, as ever, this kind of learning needs to be done by the child himself. <br />
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In letting Antek eat as much or as little as he wants, we hope to let him learn how his body feels about certain things. When he has enough, he gets up, takes his bib of and sometimes says thank you ( 'degyeeee') and hands me the plate. Or just smiles and walks away. Letting him stop when he wants to stop we are letting him walk away when he's had enough. And this does not only apply to food.<br />
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We want our children to know when to stop. To know when to say 'no' and walk away. I can imagine that when our son is a teenager, we will want him to know all of this even more. But for them to be able to do that comfortably, we also need to respect when they say 'no' to us. Especially, when it is about things they know better than we do - when it is about themselves.<br />
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<b>Emotional experience</b><br />
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Just like anything else that goes on between our children and us, eating and feeding is an emotional time. For all those involved. I remember how hard it was for Pawel when he prepared a meal and Antek would not eat it. And of course 'I've made all this for you and you are walking away' is definitely something that was on his mind. But he never once let Antek know that he thought that, and learnt to trust Antek, and let go of the expectations. And that always pays off :)<br />
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We have this thing in Poland, where parents will sit down with babies and feed them spoonfulls that are always for someone (now, I have no idea if this is a universal thing or not?). 'One for Mummy. One for Daddy. One for Granny....' The list goes on, the child gets fed, nobody knows how much or how little he really needed to eat. But this, again, is not just about food. It's a pretty heavy load, now that I think about it, for a child to stop even when he is full. After all, if he's had one spoon for Mummy, will he not have one for Daddy? <br />
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Pawel has recently told me an adult version of this, which really is just the same. When you go out and don't want to have a drink with someone (and by drink in this situation we usually mean a shot of vodka) the 'normal' response is: 'Come on. You won't drink with ME?' well.... (beautiful recent post by Nadine about being able to comfortably say 'no' is <a href="http://piklerexperience.blogspot.com/2011/11/safe-place.html">here</a>).<br />
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<b>Trust me, you'll like it</b><br />
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Antek had a couple of months when he would not touch a carrot. That was just it. We didn't worry about it, but unforunately we mentioned it to someone, who seemed to find it a bit problematic. The advice which followed included things as varied as giving him only carrots so he had no choice, through to giving him other things mashed with carrots, so he would not notice. Now, needles to say, we did neither.<br />
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First of all, we don't think it's abnormal not to like something. We usually don't see it as something unusual when it comes to adults (think about having all your friends over for dinner at once... I would probably have to serve water). The problem with children is that we tend to worry that they will not get what they need, or that they are becoming 'picky'. Since we tend to trust Antek that he will know what he needs, we didn't worry about the first one. And we kept offering him carrots once in a while, and then patiently ate them ourselves. Until, of course, one day he grabbed one, ate it, and has loved carrots since.<br />
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There are several important things we wanted to remember with the carrot 'situation'. It's ok not to like something, so if he ended up just not liking carrots in the end, we would also not have a problem with that. But more than that, we disagree with cheating anyone into doing anything - and in our ears 'mashing everything so he doesn't know carrot is there' is cheating. We don't want our son to lie to us. We will not lie to him. And that goes far beyond carrots.Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-17206103715897439202011-11-27T19:23:00.000-08:002011-11-27T19:23:34.536-08:00Emotional rollercoaster...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfcTd1GHrxc64RgiT3Zq4wbDVd6OGzAyJde7pfaLcbHNo__GnX-0bYI2shDIHJlDx87ifwS1j43uTPcuPMHf-cX_kVnx0-aH2wvkrEO8SosX_4fdjjPRoG-c2SUdUUEJuR_U27kkhwRk/s1600/antu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" dda="true" height="320" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjdfcTd1GHrxc64RgiT3Zq4wbDVd6OGzAyJde7pfaLcbHNo__GnX-0bYI2shDIHJlDx87ifwS1j43uTPcuPMHf-cX_kVnx0-aH2wvkrEO8SosX_4fdjjPRoG-c2SUdUUEJuR_U27kkhwRk/s320/antu.jpg" width="212" /></a></div><strong>I recently realized that I might just be a bit boring sometimes. I don't like when things happen all at once and my brain can't quite cope. I don't like when things get too much. I vowed years ago never to watch another horror movie - I do not like being scared. I'm uncomfortable in situations where I don't know what is going on and so I don't know how to respond. I know these are all learning experiences, but if I can, I choose an attitude that is a little bit Zen, I guess - or at least, I try. And I keep reminding myself that I can always (well, almost always) opt out. Not everyobody can.</strong><br />
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We were at the nearby playground the other day. Antek is now just over 18 months old, and things that move have started to get exciting. And big vehicles. And also, running up and down. Somehow, not too many things in the playground itself are exciting for him, but lots of stuff around it is, so we go. He loves watching older kids play, and laughs out loud at lots of things they do. Like <a href="http://piklerexperience.blogspot.com/2011/11/safe-place.html">Leander</a>, he's not too keen on slides - he climbs up, looks down, climbs back down and usually walks away. He doesn't cry anymore when too many kids run past him, but he just walks away and moves closer to us when he's uncomfortable. He doesn't seem to like when things get too much. When stuff is scary. When something is uncomfortable. He stretches his arm out and shakes his head. Like me, he prefers to opt out. I respect that. And I hope he too will respect other people's choices when he gets older. <br />
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We were looking at a little girl, maybe a bit younger than Antek, who was quietly playing with little stones. Her mum came over, picked her up and offered to carry her to the slide. The girl was trying to get back down and get back to her pebbles, but mum had decided that slide will be more fun. Once on top of the slide, the girl got scared and started crying. She was trying to get down. Her mum held her and showed her how much fun the slide really is. After about two or three times, the girl started enjoying it, and this time instead of protesting loudly, she laughed out loud and wante to go again, again and again. Until her mum got tired and took her back down to the pebbles. This time, there were tears and not wanting to leave the slide... There were a few times when the girl wanted to opt out, when the emotions were getting too much, when things were too scary to handle. Or too great to leave behind. It's all part of life, but it sure is easier when it's not imposed on you, and when you can at least have a little snippet of a possibility of opting out. <br />
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One of my most vivid memories from childhood is a water slide we were on ages ago in Hungary. It was huge. I didn't want to go, but everyone went and I was taken along. I remember standing on top of it, looking down and thinkng that I absolutely need to get down, get back to the stairs and leave. But everyone went, and everyone had fun, and so I did too in the end. I hated it. I remember landing in water convinced that I would drown. I remember being very scared and thinking that something surely must be wrong with me - everyone is having such a great time. This was the last time I have ever been on a water slide. I guess that's something Pawel will have to do with our kids. I don't feel comfortable in water either. <br />
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I might be a boring mum. But that day, walking home from the playground I decided (again) I prefer it that way. I prefer the quiet joys of playing in the pebbels, from the emotional rollercoaster of the tears of fear mixed with the tears of joy on the slide. I like peace. I like when things happen because they are naturally meant to happen, not because someone makes decisions for me. And I like my choice for not doing something to be respected. Sure, slides are fun. Water slides are probably fun too, but I never had a chance to have fun on one. Maybe we don't need an emotional rollercoaster to see how much fun something is. Maybe it's ok to wait until we are ready for the fun... after all, isn't that what makes it fun?Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-77506886694896860672011-11-02T18:22:00.000-07:002011-11-02T18:22:13.292-07:00Slow.down.some.more.<b>I have been a bit sick recently, and have been home more, but also sleeping more and doing less. I hate being sick (who doesn't?), but, as always, if you let yourself just be, there are surprises around the corner. I had very little energy these past few days, and this helped me do what I have most trouble doing - slowing down...</b><br />
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I *know* of the benefits of slowing down. I really do. And I try. I try more now with Antek around than before. But more often than not, I feel like I start at the top of the hill every morning, and from there all you can do is just keep picking up pace. Until the evening comes, you crash, and tell yourself that tomorrow will be different. And then you wake up at the top of that hill again...<br />
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I was sitting on the kitchen floor and Antek wanted to go outside. It was this time of day when his energy was too much to keep inside, but it was a bit chilly and he needed to put on a sweatshirt. I held the shirt out, explained that if he wants to go out he needs to put it on. He turned his back to me and went back to looking out and pointing out the door. I knew he wanted to go and play. I was really tired and had a huge headache. So I sat there and waited. And then I waited some more. And some more. And more... I closed my eyes for a moment and when I opened them again Antek was standing in front of me pointing to the shirt and stretching his arms up... we put the shirt on and he ran off. And I realized that I was feeling a bit embarrassed. <br />
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Had I felt better I would not have waited half the time. I probably would have found a way of explaining it again, or trying to convince him to put the shirt on. I would have come closer, and probably repeated what I had said. But was it really necessary? He needed to point at the window first, knock on the door, and then he was ready. <br />
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I have read and thought about what both Magda Gerber and Emmi Pikler say about slowing down. I have thought about it a lot since Antek was born. I let him develop naturally, 'in time, not on time' (Gerber). I do not rush him into things he is not ready to do physically. I take time during caring moments - nappy changes, baths, feeding... why is it so difficult to do the same when it comes to all those simple daily things? Why is it more difficult to slow down when it comes to sitting at the table or putting shirt on, than it is when it comes to sitting up, crawling, or walking? I don't know. All I know is that slowing down should really be my matra, not just during caring moments.<br />
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When I opened the door and let Antek out, I heard this song on the radio (things like this really make me stop and think, I have to say...):<br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><iframe allowfullscreen='allowfullscreen' webkitallowfullscreen='webkitallowfullscreen' mozallowfullscreen='mozallowfullscreen' width='320' height='266' src='https://www.youtube.com/embed/idDOW8JeR04?feature=player_embedded' frameborder='0'></iframe></div><br />
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<div style="text-align: center;"><i>Slow down, you're doing fine, you can't be everything you want to be before your time...</i></div><br />
<i> </i>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-65103319144423423142011-10-30T15:16:00.000-07:002011-10-30T15:16:40.684-07:00Revisiting our hands...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg402OMz5A557SboJWDCcDtmAKJQQMtb0C-CRPG0TQkYR2JCX5zwEDEuF3WXZ8PVUHulV7ThVIwkxLXo-2bTnpdr3G5uUF7yjKmz-HNZ_gTbivVvJOQDOF32aykXqb4oTUnY59dprfWBIk/s1600/rece_lisc.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="213" ida="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEg402OMz5A557SboJWDCcDtmAKJQQMtb0C-CRPG0TQkYR2JCX5zwEDEuF3WXZ8PVUHulV7ThVIwkxLXo-2bTnpdr3G5uUF7yjKmz-HNZ_gTbivVvJOQDOF32aykXqb4oTUnY59dprfWBIk/s320/rece_lisc.JPG" width="320" /></a></div><b>Recently, I have been struck with this thought of how quickly we learn, and how quickly we forget. Parenting is a wonderful journey, and every day we learn from our children. Every day, every moment even, we discover something about them, and something about ourselves, if we're open to it. But recently I have been thinking about all those thing we felt were very important in the beginning. All those things we felt strongly about. And how, with time, some of them have slipped away... so this week I have been trying hard to remember those first few weeks and what they taught us. One of the first things that came to mind was my hands.</b><br />
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<i>Getting to know each other is of course mutual. As we get to know the child, he begins to know us, and this happens through our hands. Hands constitute the first relationship for the baby with world beyond breastfeeding. Hands pick him up, lay him down, wash, dress and feed him... What difference it makes when gentle, patient and peaceful hands, which also convey safety and clarity, take care of him. How different the world seems if these hands are impatient, rough, hasty, restless and nervous. In the beginning hands are everything for the infant. They are the person, the world...</i> (Dr. Emmi Pikler, 'Peaceful Babies - Contented Mothers')<br />
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Our first few weeks were all about connection, relationship, getting to know Antek, and letting him get used to the world to which he was so new. We were very aware of our hands, of the way we touched, dressed, changed and hugged him. Our hands were his world, just like he was our world. We made sure to slow down, stop for a moment before touching him, let our hands be as respectful and loving as we were towards him. Slowly, with time, he became more aware of other things, our hands became one of the many connections with the world. He became more aware of other sensations, other senses. We still paid attention to being careful and respectful. But slowly, with time, I seem to have lost track of my hands. They became just hands - those tools for picking up, hugging, dressing, changing.<br />
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As I was thinking about those first few weeks of our parenting journey, I came across Katrina Kenisson's piece about <a href="http://www.katrinakenison.com/2011/09/15/touch/">touch</a>. And I realised that I lost track of my hands, of the powerful message they are sending. That I lost track of the power of touch. I can really understand her, when she says: 'we are a hands-off culture, and to reach out in this way, human to human, hands to body, almost always means crossing some kind of barrier. We may feel free to <em>talk</em> about anything, but to lay our hands on another person is not something most of us do regularly or casually.' Though I come from a slightly different culture perhaps. I often hug my friends, kiss them. I like to touch the person I am talking to. I believe our bodies need the connection too, not just our minds.<br />
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So much recent research talks about the importance of touch for such physical things as development, growth and weight, but also for such emotional things as happiness and attachment. All people need to be held, hugged, kissed. But while we talk about touch and its importance when it comes to caring for infants, we sometimes forget that it is also about the quality of that touch. That our hands might be sending a powerful message. That it is different to be holding a baby while watching TV or reading a book, and to be holding a baby with fully attentive hands. Magda Gerber says we should 'unbusy our minds' when we are around children. I think we should also 'unbusy' our hands - from everything they are doing, everything they will be doing, those things they should be doing or that they have done. And just like trying to be fully there with our minds, giving children our undivided attention, maybe it's also worth fully giving them our hands when we touch them...<br />
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As I woke up this morning, I heard Antek waking up in his bed. Before I went to pick him up I stopped for a moment. I though about my hands, and remembered how <a href="http://babyfirst.co/about/">Maureen Perry</a> talked about touching babies, during our training. I thought of how I love Antek's little hands when he suddenly runs to hug me out of nowhere; how I love Pawel's strong touch when we walk holding hands; my Dad's hand on my hair when he talked to me; my Mum's hand on my forehead when I was sick; my Brother's strong hug. I shook my hands a bit to get rid of the sleepiness and leftover dreams.<br />
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When I finally got out of bed and went to pick up Antek, my mind and my hands were ready. Just like when I touched him for the first time. After all, every morning is a new beginning...<br />
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[Photo with thanks to <a href="http://mary2rowery.wordpress.com/">Mary Sadowska</a>]Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-5838464874642555502011-10-19T18:52:00.000-07:002011-10-19T18:52:50.105-07:00Lessons from the box of crayons<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg4RtPgM0jDz2BzNtvKaccc2bRoI-q2vInl7xc2PZaN7CF_jToyvDfh6-rUTY-UFLSCvtBt-2qtOtTAyPfh90_-eyVH0m2DTGJ792W1vYGjzvmtQHhxhvRDBUZeHp0Di1BixnnKrgHhrU/s1600/antoni+deszczowy.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhg4RtPgM0jDz2BzNtvKaccc2bRoI-q2vInl7xc2PZaN7CF_jToyvDfh6-rUTY-UFLSCvtBt-2qtOtTAyPfh90_-eyVH0m2DTGJ792W1vYGjzvmtQHhxhvRDBUZeHp0Di1BixnnKrgHhrU/s1600/antoni+deszczowy.JPG" /></a></div><b>"... Macondo was a village of twenty adobe houses, built on the bank of the river of clear water that ran along a bed of polished stones, which were white and enormous, like prehistoric eggs. The world was so recent that many things lacked names, and in order to indicate them it was necessary to point." </b>(Gabriel Garcia Marquez, <i>One Hundred Years of Solitude</i>)<br />
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Imagine this is your world. The world of great unknowns, of all the magical things, of all these possibilities for discovery. Imagine nobody is telling you what to do with what, what will 'work best', or 'be easier this way', or that 'it should be done this way'. This is, I want to believe, what all artists and scientists do daily - discover; explore; wonder; test; hypothesize; try again and again... and this is what we admire them for.<br />
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Recently Pawel bought Antek a box of lovely beeswax crayons. The boys then came home, Pawel showed Antek what was in the box, and put the crayons with his other toys. Where they happily stayed, forgotten, for the next three days. Now, weeks later, the crayons have been around for a while, Antek takes them out now and again and uses them quite a lot in his play. He has not drawn a single dot or line. In our house, crayons are not for drawing. Not right now, at least. What are they for? Now, did you know that:<br />
<br />
<b>1. Crayons roll when thrown on the ground. </b><br />
<b>2. Crayons roll faster when thrown on the ground, than when placed carefully and pushed lightly.</b><br />
<b>3. Crayons roll faster and in one direction when put on the ground and pushed hard</b><br />
<b>4. When thrown, crayons may roll fast, but not always in the direction intended (this may also result in lost crayons, misplaced crayons, wet and dirty crayons)</b><br />
<b>5. Rolling rocks (sic!)</b><br />
<b>6. Crayons looks lovely when put on the floor, but much more impressive when put on a box, one next to the other (the effects often produce applause)</b><br />
<b>7. Crayons make a very good sound when you bang them on the floor</b><br />
<b>8. Crayons make an excellent sound when you bang them on the fridge door</b><br />
<b>9. The sound when crayons are banged on the pillow is not exciting at all</b><br />
<b>10. Some crayons float</b><br />
<b>11. Crayons are not delicious</b><br />
<b>12. Pink and red crayons look lovely when put next to herbs in the garden</b><br />
<b>13. Blue crayons not so much</b><br />
<b>14. Crayons don't really fit into the box they came in. No matter how you try. (They do fit in the bowl though, perfectly)</b><br />
<b>15. The cat in the garden is not happy when crayons fly in his general direction</b><br />
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When I told a friend we will not really be 'teaching' Antek what crayons (and other things) are for, she was surprised. 'It's like trying to break in, when the door is wide open' she said. 'He will learn to draw eventually anyway.' Sure he will. The important point though for us is - HE will LEARN. WE won't TEACH him. And also - when he's ready he will. And I want to be there to see the smile on his face when he finally DISCOVERS that crayons make colourful marks on things (and I will make sure to do what my Mum did - cover the walls within Antek's reach with paper).<br />
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<i>Be careful what you teach. It might interfere with what they are learning. </i>(Magda Gerber)<br />
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There are oodles of recent studies that have demonstrated, over and over again that children are more creative, more involved and more persistent when allowed to EXPLORE toys without instructions, than when told what to do with them. We see it daily. <br />
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In our house, now is not the time for drawing. Now is the time for rolling, throwing, pushing and pulling. The time for drawing will come. But in the meantime, its a lot of other learning that is going on. <br />
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<i>When you teach a child something you take away forever his chance of discovering it for himself</i>. (Jean Piaget)<br />
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In all of this crayon business, I can't help but admire how creative and resourceful our son is. How much he is like a scientist or an artist, or both, in his explorations - in experimenting, discovering, hypothesizing, testing...<br />
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We admire creative thinkers. We admire their ability to think outside the box; to put old things to new uses; to come up with innovative solutions. We are amazed how some people are ahead of their times in their view of the world. We want our children to be all these things in the future... why not let them start now?<br />
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[somewhat related, very thoughtful and wonderful posts from <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/2011/01/idea-babies-4-ways-to-kindle-genius/">Janet Lansbury</a> and <a href="http://teachertomsblog.blogspot.com/2011/10/not-teaching-what-to-think-but-how.html">Teacher Tom</a>]Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-80814534607649384512011-09-21T00:37:00.000-07:002011-09-21T00:37:44.321-07:00My feelings are REAL !!! (or the day all hell broke loose...)<a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8S7sPjQFnXMUjMhX2dtNcN2HeMwKXL-JFVtnIItgQc7NTnhyNmTHLbCBldJA3uNjYfNYe8uiyubfhgLVrssUhuwoiW1_yCKwpkdHNxqljtLKhdWOY5S7-SRDrtl_7GO4ZjbhY1N3jko/s1600/dudu.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="212" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEh-8S7sPjQFnXMUjMhX2dtNcN2HeMwKXL-JFVtnIItgQc7NTnhyNmTHLbCBldJA3uNjYfNYe8uiyubfhgLVrssUhuwoiW1_yCKwpkdHNxqljtLKhdWOY5S7-SRDrtl_7GO4ZjbhY1N3jko/s320/dudu.jpg" width="320" /></a><span style="font-size: medium;"><b>He screamed and screamed and screamed. He even kicked his little legs quite hard. I sat close, very close, offered my hand but was rejected. He screamed more. I stayed close. 'You are really upset' I said, trying to use a gentle voice. 'You are really upset, I can see that'. When the screaming stopped (and it lasted for ever...) we looked each other in the eye and hugged. We both needed that hug and we were both exhausted. Antek is now 16 months old. His feelings are REAL. Some of them are more than he can handle. And he wants to tell us about them. Sometimes all of them. </b></span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">This was the first tantrum in the house. It followed a few days of some viral infection and a dinner that was slightly too late. Not letting Antek throw food around was that last straw... and frankly - we had it coming. So I stayed calm, acknowledged his feelings, let him know I won't let him throw food around. Being close by and letting him scream it all out allowed me to see that he actually may have been more scared of these emotions than I had thought he would be... and made me realize how much more he needed me to be there for him than when he is happily exploring the world around. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">There were three things I wanted to try hard and make sure that we get from this loud expression of ... anger, I guess:</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>1. ALL feelings are fine.</b> And they are all real. And they are all yours, and you have to learn to live with them for the rest of your life (and it's a wonderful thing!). And once they're gone, life goes on (and that is a wonderful thing, too)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>2. Not all actions are fine. </b>There are all the feelings that you will live with, and sometimes it will be hard. But there are things you can do and things you cannot do. For various reasons. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><b>3. You are great and we love you.</b> No matter what.</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><a href="http://www.jewishvirtuallibrary.org/jsource/biography/Korczak.html">Korczak</a> writes so beautifully about the importance of all feelings, and the need to understand, but also to accept them all: How can we know happiness if we don't know sadness? How can we know love if we can't recognize hate? Sometimes in my head I try to name all the feelings and emotions I experienced during the day. Some of them are easy to admit to, some not so easy, but togther all of them are a full picture of who I was during that day. If we don't allow the children to get to know those feelings when they first encounter them, how can they move on and continue to get to know themselves?</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;"><i>'When we were one or two years old we had what we might visualize as a 360-degree personality. Energy radiated out from all parts of our body and all parts of our psyche. A child running is a living globe of energy. We had a ball of energy, all right; but one day we noticed that our parents didn’t like certain parts of that ball. They said things like: “Can’t you be still?” Or “It isn’t nice to try and kill your brother.” Behind us we have an invisible bag, and the part of us our parents don’t like, we, to keep our parents’ love, put in the bag. By the time we go to school our bag is quite large. Then our teachers have their say: “Good children don’t get angry over such little things.” So we take our anger and put it in the bag... Then we do a lot of bag-stuffing in high school. This time it’s no longer the evil grownups that pressure us, but people our own age... So [...] out of a round globe of energy the twenty-year-old ends up with a slice... We spend our life until we’re twenty deciding what parts of ourself to put into the bag, and we spend the rest of our lives trying to get them out again. Sometimes retrieving them feels impossible, as if the bag were sealed' </i>(Robert Bly, "The book on the human shadow")</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">I know I have a bag. I know my husband has a pretty big one too. I know I have been trying hard to find some things in that bag when I needed them and because of all the clutter that's there, I couldn't find them (you know"good girls" don't really get angry, even when they feel they should). And I know that the bigger my bag got, the harder I found it to live with only that one slice that I had left - after all, it's nice to have a choice and lots of possibilities handy. </span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">Not knowing all of the feelings we have, not understanding them may sometimes lead us to "get upset, when it's enough to ignore, feel contempt when [we] should have compassion" (Janusz Korczak)</span><br />
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<span style="font-size: medium;">But there is another thing that scares me about these bags that we drag around with us. When I looked at Antek after he screamed his anger out, I realised that it was all gone. All of it. Life was back to normal. We learnt a couple of things, but the anger was no longer there. If instead of letting it out we stuff it in a bag, surely it doesn't disappear there, does it?</span>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-64070984763390723172011-09-07T15:06:00.000-07:002011-09-07T15:07:26.356-07:00A Day in the Life of a Scientist<a href="http://www.emperor-penguin.com/emperor-penguin.mp4" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img alt="picture of emperor penguin chick" border="0" height="200" src="http://www.emperor-penguin.com/penguin-chick.jpg" width="161" /></a><strong>Magda Gerber encourages us to 'observe more, do less'. While I wholeheartedly agree with the importance of observation, I also think it's not as easy as it sounds. Particularly when it comes to children. Particularly, when we are not sure what it is we are supposed to observe...</strong><br />
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When I first started working with language and recording people I realised how difficult it is to just (!) listen. I set out to record people's conversations, and all (!) I had to do was sit there quietly, let them talk. And bite, bite and bite my tongue over and over again. Not to interrupt. Not to have hours of recordings of myself talking (that I can get, anytime I want:). It's not about pretending you're not there and if someone asks you something pretending you haven't heard. But it was about simply giving the people I was working with the time, space and floor to talk, and about quietly observing the interaction... like I said, easier said than done. But practice made it easier, after a few weeks I was enjoying it so much more, and noticing so much more than in the beginning (when all I could focus on was not to talk;) After a while I was getting so much into these conversations that were unfolding in front of my eyes (and ears), that every movement of the head, every laugh, every different tone of voice seemed (no, sorry, WAS) significant.<br />
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When I read about the importance of observing a child, and giving him the time, space and floor to interact with his environment on his own terms - in other words, giving him the opportunity to PLAY - I remembered how I learnt to do this for all the people whose conversations I recorded. And I decided to do just that. It made a world of difference.<br />
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So here is what I like to do, and if you have a moment, try and do the same - I promise you, you will get addicted to watching your child at play.<br />
<br />
When I first started practising observation, this is what I saw: Antek is standing on a box. Now, he's getting down to the floor, picking something up. Now, he's playing with the boxes... not very exciting, I know. Bear with me.<br />
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Pawel and I like to watch things like <a href="http://dsc.discovery.com/tv/planet-earth/">'Planet Earth'</a> and other docummentaries about animals. It's fascinating, probably because, at least to me, I realise how much I can learn about them, and how wonderfully the are adapted to living in the environment they are in. I started observing Antek in the same way, as if I knew nothing about him. After a while it was much more fascinating than the secret life of penguins ;) The trick is also in realising that we really don't know what the penguins are trying to do. We can guess, and hypothesize, but we might be wrong. Which is why, it might be better to let penguins do what they're doing, and carefully observe, without trying to interfere...<br />
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The things I looked for in the beginning to help me focus on something were:<br />
<br />
<strong>1. What is going on with his body?</strong><br />
<strong>2. What is going on emotionally?</strong><br />
<strong>3. What kind of learning is going on?</strong> (this one I owe to Polly Elam and Maureen Perry)<br />
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So, going back to Antek standing on that box... here is what I see:<br />
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Antek is now 15 months old, just learnt to walk. He is standing on a box - it's not too stable, so he has to be very focussed on not loosing balance. He is shifting his weight very slowly from one leg to the other, as if trying to see what difference it will make to his centre of gravity. His arms are slightly raised, but he is very stable. Slowly, very slowly, he lifts one foot just above the surface of the box, and regains his balance by firmly putting his weight onto the other foot. He bends his knee very carefully as if he didn't know where his left foot is going to land. Continuing to bend his right knee he places his left foot on the floor. He looks up at me and smiles :) Next, ge slowly gets down to the floor and picks up one of the empty cups. He looks around, as if he knew exactly what the plan is. He finds a bowl with a lot of little plastic caps in it and moves it closer, next he picks up a spoon (not an easy task, the spoon is big and he has to work hard to hold it in his hand) and carefully looks at it. He decides on a task: he starts transferring the caps from the bowl to the cup. Very slowly he keeps transferring the caps, one by one (working hard on something that resembles a tripod grip!!!). All of a sudden he stops, lowers his head and using his left hand removes the only green cap (all the other ones are white - that is pretty cool, you have to admit :) from the bowl. He puts that one aside. Clearly, this one was not part of the plan. He then finishes the task and when all the white caps are in the bowl he looks up and smiles at me again. He slowly grabs the cup full of caps in his right hand, moves carefully from sitting to squatting, and then, very slowly, still holding the full cup in his hand, straigthens his knees and stands up. He looks around the kitchen, balances on both feet, and with one sudden movement throws the cup up in the air and all the white plastic caps are flying everywhere! Well, that was unexpected :)<br />
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If you think you don't have time, your life is busy, you have stuff to do - I understand, so do I. But...this took about 5 minutes. It's not a lot, but a lot was going on. The great things about it is that you really learn so much about the penguins, pardon, your child... we learnt what kinds of things he liked to engage with (which helped in choosing toys that he would like), what he liked doing at that stage (which helped in deciding whether what he needed was a bowl full of small objects, a set of cups to stack, or a large box to push around the room), what he was working on physically (does he need a box to climb onto, or do we need to go to the playground more?). But above all, we realised that all he does is really pretty impressive - all the things we observed made us appreciate how wonderfully capable (and focussed!) he is :) <br />
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I enjoy watching Antek play, mainly because, at least to me, I realise how much I can learn about him, and how wonderfully he is adapted to living in the environment he is in. Once I got into the habit of quietly looking at his play, I realised that all the time, continuously, without a break, he is discovering something, working on something, mastering something, perfecting something. He is testing hypotheses, experimenting, exploring the world and all its wonders. And I realised that he is like a scientist at work - constantly looking for new things to try, to do and to experiment with.<br />
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If you can spare 5 minutes a day to do that, it will be worth it. These days, we hardly ever watch 'Planet Earth' anymore...<br />
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Foto from: <a href="http://www.emperor-penguin.com/">http://www.emperor-penguin.com/</a>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com5tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-64891703044510659872011-07-27T18:11:00.000-07:002011-07-27T19:42:17.844-07:00Freely moving babies - we need your help!Dear All,<br />
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This will be a slightly unusual post, as I have a favour to ask of you. ANd hopefully, you will agree, you will e-mail me, you will forward this to whoever else you think can participate in this, and we will all learn and share the knowledge we gain from this. So this is what it's all about:<br />
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A few days ago a friend of mine expressed her concern about her daughter's motor development. She said she was a bit worried that her little girl didn't sit up on her own until she was almost 10 months old. I thought about this, and realised that our son sat up about the same time. Only, we were not too worried. <br />
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There is very little information about the age, or rather age range, for when babies who are allowed to move freely achieve certain milestones - rolling, crawling, sitting up, standing, walking. The <a href="http://www.amazon.de/La%C3%9Ft-mir-Zeit-Bewegungsentwicklung-Untersuchungsergebnsse/dp/379050842X">study</a> done by Emmi Pikler, who observed 722 babies over time, shows that overall the age in which 'Pikler babies' achieved these milestones, was not much different from the other babies. <br />
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Still, we worry. That's what we do, we are parents, after all ;) <br />
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So, I thought about gathering information that would let us see what the age range is (after all, what are the chances of all babies reaching the milestones at exactly the same age?). <strong>And here is where I am asking for your help:</strong><br />
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If you are raising your child allowing them to move freely, and if your child reached each of these milestones on their own (that is, without sitting them up, teaching them to walk etc.), please share with us. If you have any date recorded for the age when your child reached any of the milestones, please e-mail us and tell us about it.<br />
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If you are willing to participate in this, please send us and e-mail to: <a href="mailto:movingbaby@gmail.com">movingbaby@gmail.com</a> with the following information:<br />
<br />
1. What week of pregnancy was your baby born in?<br />
2. What age did s/he learn to do the following for the first time:<br />
(i) roll to the side<br />
(ii) roll to their tummy<br />
(iii) crawl<br />
(iv) sit up<br />
(v) stand up unsupported<br />
(vi) take first step unsupported<br />
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We hope to get as many parents involved as we can. If you know anyone who can help, please forward it to them. We will be grateful for any information you can share with us, even if you remember only one or two of these (we actually have absolutely no idea how old our son was when he started crawling. We know it was around Christmas :)<br />
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After we get a reasonable number of responses, we will share our results. We will have your e-mail addresses, so all of you will get an e-mail from us, telling you what we have found out.<br />
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And, of course, if you have any questions, please e-mail us as well! <br />
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Looking forward to hear from You,<br />
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Ania, Pawel & Antek @ Every Moment Is RightAniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-7609578916999813032011-07-12T15:41:00.000-07:002011-07-12T15:44:00.766-07:00You just sit back and watch...<b>Some time ago I went to a yoga workshop with a teacher who started the class by saying something like this: 'So, I could make you do all of these really difficult poses. I could put you all into headstands. Or I could just stand there and repeat: harder, harder, harder, more, more, more...and you would all do it. But then at the end of the class would you understand any of what's just happened to your body?'</b><br />
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I also once went to a dance class where the teacher was making us do a whole lot of really cool stuff. Really showy, difficult stuff. Right from the start. I never went back. Sure, it was kind of fun. But I really like understanding what's going on with my body. That's just me.<br />
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People interested in movement (at least people I talk to) spend a lot of time trying to unlearn things they have acquired throughout their lives. I'm trying really hard to unlearn a number of habits that my body developed over the years. I'm working on sitting, standing and walking comfortably and with awareness (some thought on 'undoing' from a wonderful Alexander teacher <a href="http://alextechedin.blogspot.com/2010/08/undoing-unhelpful.html">here</a>). And I remember that a lot of times wen I was talking to people about movement, the advice you often hear is: look at the children. So I do.<br />
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I look at my son how he is learning to feel comfortable in his body. I look how he is developing all the amazing skills, necessary for him to roll over, crawl, sit up, pull himself up... I wait (im)patientkly for the first step he will take (when, oh when?!). I watch all this, but I bite my nails and almost never interfere.<br />
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I remember the learning to crawl phase - it was long. It lasted and lasted and lasted, and we really could not wait for him to finally get it (yes, we know all about the being here and now and enjoying the moment, but...). He would get on all fours, move his pelvis back and forth, back and forth, back and forth... look at the toy in front of him he was trying to get to, then fall down and complain. Back up. Back to all fours. And the pelvis... oh dear.<br />
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When he finally got it, he was the happiest person on the planet, and so were we.<br />
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We could have helped out. We could have followed the advice we hear all too often: come on, help him out. If you show him he'll get there faster. Look, he's struggling...<br />
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Yes, he's struggling. But if you think struggling is all bad, have a look at this great post from <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/2010/07/a-lesson-from-babies-its-okay-to-struggle/">Janet Lansbury</a>!<br />
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So here is how I see it: imagine you're doing a crossword (sudoku, solving a problem - whatever it is that you do). Imagine you have gone through all those moves, words, you have looked them up. You've tried all combinations. In fact, this is a hard one, you've been working on it for days. You KNOW success is near. Sure, you are frustrated, but you KNOW it will feel so good when you finally do it. You're almost there. There is just one word missing. It's on the tip of your tongue, you almost have it...when a helpful friend creeps behind you and whispers the word you have been trying to figure out. <br />
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How does this make you feel?Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com3tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-24169828079667247842011-06-14T19:12:00.000-07:002011-06-18T20:33:51.115-07:00Our needs, their wants...<div style="text-align: justify;"><b>Everyone who knows me knows I am passionate about movement, in a lot of different ways. So this one will be about movement (yes, again ;), about freedom (again...), but maybe less about the joints and muscles, and more about this mind-reading game we are trying to play with our children...</b></div><br />
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<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidgRr_MIxb09wvlL9Q10OCjVvjMBbyFsRigc2WJGCVExJbPGXAlhLbu3HJjK7d9Z0doucgsNgiwhLVKhvJornhtDn0QMsgMXO2HR509gkGDpIcY0ADrjIN1r8OW5p1yAozyQfxZyJP4VU/s1600/_DSC7535.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: right; float: right; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-left: 1em;"><img border="0" height="211" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEidgRr_MIxb09wvlL9Q10OCjVvjMBbyFsRigc2WJGCVExJbPGXAlhLbu3HJjK7d9Z0doucgsNgiwhLVKhvJornhtDn0QMsgMXO2HR509gkGDpIcY0ADrjIN1r8OW5p1yAozyQfxZyJP4VU/s320/_DSC7535.JPG" width="320" /></a></div>I recently had a conversation that got me thinking (again) about movement, and how much of it can really be free. Free from the things that surround us, free from our own needs and wants, but also free from the expectations of those that surround us. We were sitting among the lovely autumn leaves one Sunday morning (yes, it's autumn here on the southern hemisphere...), and our son was happily crawling around, checking everything within reach. There was a lady sitting next to us with a little boy, about Antek's age. She kept looking at Antek doing his usual Antek dance, and finally commented: 'He's one acrobat that boy!'. This was not the first time someone made a similar comment, so we smiled and kept looking at Antek falling, crawling, turning and testing the legth of his arms and legs. The lady looked at him again and said: 'My grandson doesn't want to crawl. He only wants to walk. It's probably because he sees all these people around him walking all the time.' I looked at the boy and honestly he looked like the last thing on his mind was walking. He also, to be entirely honest, looked like the last thing on his mind was sitting. He was trying to reach for things around him, but couldn't. He had that look on his face that I have often seen on children who are sat up and have no idea what to do next. Finally, when he stretched his arms again to reach for something the lady looked at me and said: 'See? Here we go again, now I have to walk him.' And so she did. Neither of them looked particularly comfortable.<br />
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Before I go further with all of these thoughts that were dancing in my mind at that point, I just want to say that we also tend to walk a lot around Antek. Sure, we crawl with him sometimes, but more often than not I walk to and from places. Is our son different? Does he not 'want' to walk?<br />
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I have already posted a bit about <a href="http://everymomentisright.blogspot.com/2010/12/baby-dancing-one-day.html">free gross motor development</a>, and about letting our children develop at their own pace, on their own terms, in their own time. But this situation seemed a bit different. I realized that what that lady was doing is what we often do as well, although we try hard not to. We also sometimes measure our son's needs and wants by our own needs and wants, simply because that is all we know. We know what we want. We think we know what we need. So we take what we have and put it over our children's actions. It takes a lot of observation, patience and letting go to understand that our children are really separate people. Separate from the rest of the world, but also (maybe sometimes more importantly) separate from us.<br />
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In interfering with our children's motor development when there is no medical need for it, we are showing our children that we know better than they do what they should be doing with their bodies. That may be a dangerous thing. In the long run, they are the ones who will have to live with their bodies, accept themselves as they are, learn what they can and cannot do. I want my son to be happy the way he is, accept the way he looks, walks and moves. But for him to get there, I need to remember that my body is mine, and his body is his. And that he is the only one who knows (or is learning) how it works. <br />
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Letting go of our needs and wants (to have our child already sitting, walking, standing) is important on a number of different levels. To me it's a first step in realizing Antek's independence, but also realizing how wonderfully capable he is. Letting the children discover gross motor development freely is important to them, and not only on a physical level. It's a first step in connecting emotions with the physical. It's a step in understanding what we can and cannot do. In estimating our limits and realizing our potential. If we paste our needs and wants over those of the child, we effectively exercise our potential and not let them exercise theirs. As Magda Gerber put it children should be able to experience the world 'on their own, with our help'. <br />
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Our bodies are an important part of who we are and how we are in the world. Being comfortable in our own bodies and with our own bodies seems to be a gift. We can make sure that our children get this gift very early on. How? By doing very very little. By not reading their mind and guessing what they 'want' to do, just because we do it. By observing. By not interfering if we don't have to. By not sitting them up, walking them, and 'helping' them in a number of different ways. Their lives will be so much easier, if so early on they get to figure out on their own (with our help) how their bodies work. For some people it takes a lifetime. Here, we can give them a head start.<br />
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A great post by Janet Lansbury about why we should not walk our kids can be found <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/2011/03/9-reasons-not-to-walk-babies/">here. </a>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com4tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-74499440395369498202011-05-03T03:52:00.000-07:002011-05-03T03:56:18.487-07:00Patience on a Spoon<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hw4EhnmfRJo-pDQilav4nX7kfKOOkG4SNOBE6znco77G381mvzJZM3yzh5sdLuQH8-1DNRYGjWm78Kgq9e6-E8I1JoAymhdf_WkEiH3ZlzoItpXnb-bgixSMOO8-BW4eADcOZJBiSnM/s1600/_DSC7253.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi_hw4EhnmfRJo-pDQilav4nX7kfKOOkG4SNOBE6znco77G381mvzJZM3yzh5sdLuQH8-1DNRYGjWm78Kgq9e6-E8I1JoAymhdf_WkEiH3ZlzoItpXnb-bgixSMOO8-BW4eADcOZJBiSnM/s200/_DSC7253.jpg" width="132" /></a></div><b>This post is about Antek's eating, my patience and our expectations. And it all starts with a spoon...</b><br />
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Until recently Antek was not really interested in trying out what a spoon can do. He sat down to eat, one of us would show him the food, tell him what's for breakfast, lunch, dinner, then he would keep waving his spoon around when we were feeding him with another spoon. But recently the same spoon became an object of oh so many possibilities.<br />
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It all started with one lunch, when Antek suddenly grabbed his spoon, put it in his small bowl with soup, scooped some out and carefully put it in his mouth. WOW I thought to myself and had to bite my tongue so very hard not to call out for Pawel to come see this, and for Antek to 'do it again, do it again!' So this was fun, he was trying to get some soup straight into his mouth with a spoon - yay, so cool.<br />
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Next meal we did what we always do and I sat down all ready for Antek to 'do it again, do it again!'. And, of course, he didn't. He sat down, grabbed the spoon, banged it around happily and waited to be fed. This, I have to say, was a moment of test for me - how easy would it have been to just put the spoon into his hand and lead it into his mouth. My patience was tested and my expectations were taking over, while Antek was happily drumming the spoon on the table, closing his eyes with joy. I slowly fed him with one hand and sat on the other.<br />
Some time ago I was reading about schemas, and how children develop different abilities by endless practising and mastering of the same thing in different contexts, situations and using different tools. That week, it turned out, was a week of banging. The spoon on the table; wooden spoon on the floor; teddy on the floor - oh, teddy doesn't quite make a sound; back to the wooden spoon then - on the rubbish bin; on the fridge door; Next week, as it happens, was a week of putting things into other things - so spoon happily landed in the bowl over and over and over and over... and never went anywhere near the mouth. And bread went into the cup of cammomile tea, followed by a piece of broccoli. In the evening ducks in the bath were put into a little box for endless minutes. And finally I realized that it's a good, long path that will end in Antek grabbing a spoon and eating his soup, but so many things are happening on the way I should probably start paying attention to them rather than waiting for the 'right' moment. (because, that's right - every moment is right:)<br />
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A friend of mine recenly introduced me to Jon Kabat-Zin and his work on mindfulness. He says: '...<span data-jsid="text"><span class="text_exposed_show"> there is no need to be impatient with ourselves because we find the mind judging all the time, or because we are tense or agitated or frightened, or because we have been practicing for some time and nothing positive seems to have happened. We give ourselves room to have these experiences. Why? Because we are having them anyway! When they come up they are our reality, they are the part of our life in this moment ... Why rush through some moments to get the other, “better” ones? After all, each one is your life in that moment'. And I guess the same goes for our kids - why rush them into a moment they will get to anyway, a "better" moment, rather than letting so many different experiences be part of their reality? And again - just like with so many other things - I'm sure if he gets there all by himself, the success will be so much sweeter. I am trying my very best to let him discover as many things as possible all by himself...even if it means broccoli in the tea for a while.</span></span><br />
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<span data-jsid="text"><span class="text_exposed_show">So, I continue feeding Antek with one hand and sitting on the other, or hand over to my husband who is a much more patient man than I sometimes am. And Antek is happily picking out raisins from his oatmeal and putting courgettes into his tea. Well, if he likes it that way, why not? :)</span></span>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com8tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-68185576634304761902011-03-22T14:13:00.000-07:002011-05-09T01:11:26.514-07:00Dealing with change<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ56LrHwMOFxrMyXNw0JhI0AzvzJ_Vyd8YKD2J_ZB2bK6nYsdFHL0PPvumNMMWJt0osXmz5rykdH3ybrggLdWO8Jx_B8cD7FKFJ5mGVkN7TuLrAHQ03wbsrVoWS3U_rjBtPDVLYx_4kvg/s1600/_DSC5910.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjJ56LrHwMOFxrMyXNw0JhI0AzvzJ_Vyd8YKD2J_ZB2bK6nYsdFHL0PPvumNMMWJt0osXmz5rykdH3ybrggLdWO8Jx_B8cD7FKFJ5mGVkN7TuLrAHQ03wbsrVoWS3U_rjBtPDVLYx_4kvg/s200/_DSC5910.JPG" width="132" /></a></div><b>There have been many changes in our lives recently - we have moved to New Zealand for a few months. We had to pack our lives into boxes (again). We were on three planes within 24 hours. We had to adapt to a huge time difference. Weather difference. New homes. We're fine now though. All three of us, believe it or not.</b><br />
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Antek was set in his ways, and his days looked all similar and he was a happy little boy discovering the world around him when the opportunity knocked on the door. Auckland, New Zealand - amazing option for me, where I would be able to teach and maybe finally finish my dissertation, enough income that my husband would be able to stay home and look after Antek for four months (and I wish every Dad could have that opportunity even for a short time). All well, but on the other hand - end of the world, time difference, 24-hour flight, summer in the middle of winter... a lot to take for a 9-month-old. We thought and thought and thought. Finally we decided the pluses far outweigh the minuses, and decided to go for it. Only, we made sure to take it easy.<br />
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We told Antek what would happen. We talked to him about planes, and the world and far away places. About time difference and how it may be summer somewhere else, even thoguh it is winter in Scotland. Some people probably thoguht we were a bit strange - after all what can a baby understand about all this, right? Right? Wrong, we thought, and kept doing what we thought was right. <br />
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We had a couple of rough days packing (when friends came over to help and Antek didn't take it too well), but generally it all went smooth. Antek's days looked the same, excpet there were boxes around, and tape, and fewer and fewer things on the shelves. We showed him what the boxes were for - he crawled into one and sat there for a long, long time looking around. We showed him how things were packed into boxes and you could no longer see them. He was interested for a while, then turned around and went back to playing on the floor, so we continued packing quietly, not to disturb him. His naps, meals and sleep time looked exactly as usual, so with the exception of the boxes we made sure nothing changed.<br />
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We were worried about trains and planes, but then decided not to worry ahead, and not to worry about things we could not change. Over and over we explained and told him what would happen. When we got to the station, my husband went to get some water and I showed Antek what a train looked like: 'Here, this is what I told you about. These are the windows, smaller than in our house. These are the doors. Here is where we will get in'. I got the look from a couple of people, but Antek was happy and interested. We got on the train and we made sure to show him what was around - we can see everything and it's so easy to forget that babies' perspective is different. So we made sure that we wandered for a coupls of minutes so he could see the train inside. We did the same with the plane afterwards. And he was fine. He looked around, than smiled and was happy to play on the floor or sleep.<br />
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On the plane he got cranky a couple of times and cried. I got a bit tired too, and complained a little. 'That's his way of complaining' smiled my husband. Who wouldn't be tired during a 24-hour flight? We told him we knew he was tired, and that we were tired too. And everyone else. The lady on the next seat looked at us and made sure her daughter's pacifier was in place. Antek complained for a little longer, then looked at us, smiled and started babbling away happily. The lady on the seat next to us smiled at him, but her daughter's pacifier stayed in place.<br />
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We did the same thing with all the new places we were in - we explained what was going on. We walked around with Antek to show him what was where. We told him things were different than what he was used to, and that we knew it might take time for him to settle down. For all of us. When we finally got to where we are staying now, Antek smiled and crawled into every room of the house. This time he did it all by himself - checking where what was, and how it was different to all the other places we knew. Together we unpacked the toys. Decided which room to put the cot in.<br />
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Ten days later he was back to his routine, days looking similar to one another, toys all over his playing space. Only this time playing space is mostly outside on the deck and so much bigger than before. And all of us sleep through the night again.<br />
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Change is difficult to deal with, for anyone. We knew what was going on, and we wanted our son to be a part of it as much as possible. But we also didn't deny the fact that it might be hard. It was so much easier for us to cope with once we admitted it to ourselves. And I really believe it made a difference to the whole experience of travel - it's hard for all of us. We know. But we did it. All three of us. There will be a number of times when Antek will have to deal with different kinds of change. But maybe learning to cope with it slowly, taking it easy and without worrying too much beforehand will make those changes just another part of life for him. Just like it is for us right now.Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com7tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-35736844524636831832011-01-24T13:07:00.000-08:002011-01-24T13:07:30.112-08:00People?<b>I was on the bus the other day with my son and a woman standing next to me pinched his cheek. He didn't like it. When she leaned over to do it again I looked at her and said: 'Please don't do it again. He doesn't like it'. I got 'the look' from most people who heard what I said...</b><br />
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Imagine, though, that it is a slightly different scenario: I was on the bus the other day with my husband and a woman standing next to me pinched his cheek. He didn't like it... I find it hard to even finish the story without it sounding ridiculous in my head.<br />
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I started wondering why is it that some people feel free to do things to babies they would not dream of doing to ... other people? It is probably especially visible with regards to strangers - I don't think anyone would ever stroke, touch, poke, pinch (the list goes on) another person on the bus. Unless that person is a baby. Why is it then? Is a baby not a person?<br />
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This goes along with all the thoughts on interrupting babies (see <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/2010/04/baby-interrupted-7-ways-to-build-your-childs-focus-and-attention-span/">Janet's</a>, <a href="http://piklerexperience.blogspot.com/search?updated-min=2010-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&updated-max=2011-01-01T00%3A00%3A00-08%3A00&max-results=26">Nadine's</a>) - I don't think anyone would want to (seriously!) interrupt me while I'm trying to work something out, but I constantly see people picking up babies, who are clearly in the middle of something, without a word of warning leaving them with their mouth wide open... this also goes along with all the thoughts on talking and informing your child on what you're doing - I can't imagine anyone getting up and leaving a room full of people looking at him without a word (how rude would that be), but we constantly do it to babies and wonder why they're upset...<br />
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I think this goes along with having our world clearly divided into 'children' and 'people'. And I think I finally understand what <a href="http://en.wikipedia.org/wiki/Janusz_Korczak">Janusz Korczak</a> might have meant when he said: "There are no children; there are people' (although I'm sure he meant much much more that just that).<br />
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So when do we start treating children as people? When they start walking? Talking? Go to school? Leave the house? When we need their help?<br />
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In our road through parenting so far I think what has helped us immensely in treating our son with the respect he deserves as a person, was to always ask ourselves: would I do it to another adult? And yes, children are not adults, they are different in more way than we can count. But they are also similar in more ways than we are normally aware of.<br />
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This might be a bit more thinking than a simple pinch on the cheek should get, but I have found that respecting a baby is often not the most natural thing to do. And respect is most definitely something we all deserve.Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com10tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-13570154397951825962010-12-18T04:08:00.000-08:002010-12-18T04:08:49.472-08:00Baby dancing... one day<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIUzOX1ZlFjk8nxZWGyS92wQSyfxfOCKxInwZ3KkQZWvHKKN0ePWFLqD08ZuSa1fOnpqpWeNQblIc_WEGvBdMmCbIB-7PIYzZzMmh5c5c_b6Yhcxr_LzQk-INZ8jDqguIESJCbgmEWZ8k/s1600/_DSC4827_mini.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; cssfloat: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" n4="true" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEgIUzOX1ZlFjk8nxZWGyS92wQSyfxfOCKxInwZ3KkQZWvHKKN0ePWFLqD08ZuSa1fOnpqpWeNQblIc_WEGvBdMmCbIB-7PIYzZzMmh5c5c_b6Yhcxr_LzQk-INZ8jDqguIESJCbgmEWZ8k/s200/_DSC4827_mini.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><strong>One of the great things about being snowed under and cut off from the world is that your mail gets delivered in piles. Once a week, true, but so many goods at the same time. </strong><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pikler-Bulletin-Dr-Emmi/dp/B000XR2CGU"><strong>Diana Suskind's</strong></a><strong> wonderful book 'Baby dancing' arrived on the same day as </strong><a href="http://www.amazon.com/Pikler-Bulletin-Dr-Emmi/dp/B000XR2CGU"><strong>The Pikler Bulletin</strong></a><strong>, so all of us had something to read that day.</strong><br />
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Letting our babies develop naturally, on their own terms and in their own pace requires tremendous patience, and a whole lot of letting go. Letting go of our expectations might be the hardest of it all, it is, after all, impossible not to have expectations when it comes to just about anything in life. But this kind of letting go has taught me to enjoy every moment much more, as I am not busy waiting for the next step. <br />
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It's intersting how we often want things right now, and loose everything that happens on the way - the whole amazing journey. We noticed recently the same applies to babies, and so many of the conversations about them involve the 'what my baby can already do' element. I don't know how many times in the past two weeks I've had to answer the question: 'Can he sit up yet?'. Well, no, but you know look - he can roll, bend his legs like this, laugh when he hides under the blanket... 'Oh, that's ok, he should be able to sit up soon, don't worry'. You know, I'm not at all worried. He'll probably (although hopefully not) spend too much time sitting in his whole adult life, I'm kind of glad he's not doing it now...<br />
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My husband has an interesting theory about why that is - he says motor development is the only area where we can have control over our babies' milestones. You can't force the baby to say his first word, but you can sit him up. And with so little information out there, that you can do things otherwise, I'm not surprised people do. We did. With all the reading about motor development somehow I ended up thinking that once our son is six months old he will sit up. Just like that, as if by magic, on the day he turns six months we will wake up and there he will be in his bed, sitting (I'm not even going to admit to all the bouncer and high-chair beliefs we had).<br />
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Here is what Emmi Pikler says about motor development: 'Let us not force the infant. Let us provide well for her, but let us not disturb the slow, steady process that has its own rhythm and course with every child. Every healthy child will get from the lying position on the back to walking freely. The period of time may vary, but it will alway happen in correlation with that child's physical and mental constitution, that child's limbs and use of moveability as far as possible.'<br />
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When my husband and I were travelling in Asia for a few months, we visited so many breathtaking places it's hard to count. But my clearest memories are not those places we ended up in, but the journey there. How we got lost, how we couldn't get a ride fo hours in the rain, how we had to sit on the back of a truck full of piglets... and I know my son will one day sit, stand up, walk, run and dance, whether I help him or not. But I want his body to have a chance to go through the entire journey. I want him to enjoy every moment of the ride, because once he gets there he's there, this part of the journey is over. And I want him to be ready to be there.Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-79306558269403385332010-12-03T02:39:00.000-08:002010-12-03T02:44:16.180-08:00Since you can't have a pint, how about a diaper change?<b>Raising a person is hard work. I feel for all the mums, whose partners work long hours, have meetings, come home late and have little time to be around. But I also feel for all the dads who are, sometimes unconsciously, left out. Who want to participate but often don't know how. Who are afraid they will fail. And to all those dads I just want to say: we are scared too. And frankly, I think maternal intinct is a tad overrated.</b><br />
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I was lucky to be home not even 24 hours after our son was born. Not that I would do it again, or that I recommend it. But I was lucky, because as I could not move around too much and was just plain tired, I had absolutely no urge to control anything. For the first week I don't think I changed a diaper more than three times. I occasionally dressed my son. I really only fed him and tried to sleep. My husband did the rest. That's why I think I was lucky.<br />
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I can't imagine how hard it must be for a man to try and connect with his newborn baby - we are, after all, connected to them since day one. They are physically a part of us. And on top of that we get to feed them, should we choose to breastfeed. All of this we have naturally, as part of the package deal. Our attachment with the baby seems to be of a different kind, especially in the beginning. Sometimes when I think about it I think dads have it harder, in a lot of ways...<br />
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Connecting with a tiny person is hard. It's hard in a lot of ways, as we are (in our culture at least) somehow led to believe that it is not a full person in his own rights - just some kind of person-to-be. Potentially. And since we, as mums, on our maternity leaves take care of their basic needs, what are dads to do? It's not like they can watch football together. That's why I'm happy I was let out of the hospital and could watch my husband take care of our son as I was getting my energy back, bacause in all honesty - he didn't know what he was doing as much as I didn't. We both had no idea.<br />
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So my husband is the diaper-changing guy, and I am the feeding guy. I am the stay-at-home-most-of-the-day guy, but he is the bath-time guy. Sometimes I stand behind the door when they are engaged in the diaper-changing. They are so busy they probably don't even know I'm there. It's a serious business in our house, not just a quick deal. It's almost ike listening to two friends having a pint, in a way. At first I thought they were taking quite a long time, now I know that these are their quality moments, what Magda Gerber calls 'wants something quality time'. There is a lot of talking involved, and recently not just on my husband's side. It's really great watching the two of them together, each knowing exactly what the other one is doing, occasionally having a few laughs. As all is done, the conversation usually continues on the way to the playpen, where my husband stays in for a while, while our son slowly returns to his world.<br />
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So even if you, dads, are busy, tired, stressed and scared - it's ok, we are too. You don't have to be around all day. You don't have to build up the energy to constatnly entertain your baby. One good diaper change will do. Because I hope one day my husband will be having a pint with our son and I will see the connection between them that started on our changing table.Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com1tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-82509211203603724642010-11-28T11:04:00.000-08:002010-11-29T15:08:06.459-08:00Do less, have less...<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9hMR9LIbD_-WjZLLdDbdZWECInizykcgKiBNfmoB2STdpMLRCwIEbNvq8YOK56qM0nAx5ebP6q-C23HyBK_LdtUBl3MoZzW6r6C5jTIk0kZb-G0uQsX5UkGZI96YStFhRbVcRMEzxkk/s1600/window_snowflakes_postcard-p239533298425476722trah_210.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhi9hMR9LIbD_-WjZLLdDbdZWECInizykcgKiBNfmoB2STdpMLRCwIEbNvq8YOK56qM0nAx5ebP6q-C23HyBK_LdtUBl3MoZzW6r6C5jTIk0kZb-G0uQsX5UkGZI96YStFhRbVcRMEzxkk/s200/window_snowflakes_postcard-p239533298425476722trah_210.jpg" width="200" /></a></div><b>We have been snowed under. With the beautiful white silence outside and the thought of upcoming Christmas, I have decided to look through all the things we have accumulated when our son was on the way, and then never (or almost never) used. As always - it turns out there is a lot to pass on to friends, family and fellow </b><a href="http://www.freecycle.org/"><b>freecyclers.</b> </a><br />
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My husband and I are (proudly) not ones to give in to the pressure of commercials, we usually laugh at the 'must have's of the day, and never go shoppping without knowing what we want. But somehow with a baby in the house it turned out we did exactly what we thought we'd never do - accumulate mountains of things. This time, however, things we really thoguht we would need...<br />
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I looked through all the things we diligently put in boxes and under Antek's cot: there are two (!) playmats, baby mobile, a bouncer... the list goes on. Most of it we got as presents. And yes, we took them out of their boxes, we put them on the floor, we loked at Antek playing on the mat, looking at the baby mobile. I admit - we did it all. Three months down the road we realised we never needed any of it, and are now glad we put it away fairly quickly. I don't want to sound ungrateful for all the wonderful and no doubt thoughtful presents we received - we are incredibly lucky to have so many friends who are sharing with us the joys of raising our son. But I feel for all the newborn parents out there who are led to believe that without ... (here put whatever gimmick comes to mind) their child will not develop properly. So we give in and buy. We fill our babies' worlds with toys more stimulating we ourselves could handle, put them in, on and under things. And this is all because we are told our babies 'need' this to grow, to develop, to ...be? Obviously, the first logical question that comes to mind is - what about all those babies who don't have access to these gadgets? What about all those born before the times of babygyms, playmats, mobiles and bouncers? Well... as I know all to well, newborn mum is not one to think logically at all times.<br />
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We had known about the importance of observing a baby that Magda Gerber stresses so much, and tried our best to spend time observing our son. We wanted to get to know him, we wanted to see the unique person that he is, what he enjoys and what he doesn't, we wanted to see how he gets to know us. And soon we realised that all the wonderful things we surrounded him with were, well, in the way. Instead of letting him show us what he likes, we decided (unconsciously, but still) what to put around him, and what he should be looking at. For the first three months of our road to parenthood we believed the advice we heard much to often: he 'needs' this. Now that I again pack all those things to boxes to give them away, I know we will not need them for our second child, when we decide to have one. And I wonder if I should give these things to other parents, but then again - we all make our own decisions.<br />
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Today looking at my son playing happily on the floor, choosing what he wants to touch, what he wants to look at and where he wants to roll, I was talking to my brother about the importance of being with oneself. It's an important skill. When we are used to doing things, talking to people, listening to the radio, watching TV, reading, thinking...there's not much time for just being with oneself. I have a chance now - looking at my son as he is discovering the world, uninterrupted, on his own - to see how great it is to just be with oneself. So today when all things were done I took time to remember what it was like to just sit on my own, with my thoughts, staring out of the window on the falling snow - no radio, no talking, nobody asking me to do anything, showing me anything. It was great. I'm so glad I let my son do the same.Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-67781378587243739352010-11-23T13:37:00.000-08:002010-11-28T11:18:27.987-08:00Dummy Debate<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtaHAV47lMXeyf2pQVss_FlFK-xKaEnW5e2vvUkzvTo-832-nxFM8ogOC8DhYLLoZpjY6OHgYB_NBc8Un3UVmuF9vP1LaR617DYaTejQaZmS-GgRBtqSHmgwX5eExs3IJt5dP978PLwt8/s1600/antek+i+hippo.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEhtaHAV47lMXeyf2pQVss_FlFK-xKaEnW5e2vvUkzvTo-832-nxFM8ogOC8DhYLLoZpjY6OHgYB_NBc8Un3UVmuF9vP1LaR617DYaTejQaZmS-GgRBtqSHmgwX5eExs3IJt5dP978PLwt8/s200/antek+i+hippo.JPG" width="132" /></a></div><b>I never knew what a heated debate surrounds the use or non-use of dummies, pacifiers, soothers, or whatever else these are called. I never realised that it seems to be culture-dependant. I also never thought I would want to get one. Our son has a pacifier. Built-in. He uses it whenever he needs it. And it really is not our call.</b><br />
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Looking through parenting websites (an activity I have finally cut down on heavily) it occurred to me this is a very hot topic. Somehow it stirs arguments between people who have never met or seen each other. Interestingly, however, Polish websites abound in the 'do not let your child suck his thumb!' articles. I have not seen that many on English language websites, but maybe it's just that I stopped looking. Some time ago a woman on the bus looked at our son, who was happily sucking his fingers, and asked: 'Poor thing, did you loose your pacifier?'. We did not want to go into the debate. A few days ago someone, on finding out we do not own a pacifier, commented: 'You're going to have a nervous child'. We did not want to argue. So I'm really writing this post just to get it off my chest. Our son is a relaxed little man. He has a pacifier. You can see it on the picture.<br />
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He discovered his fingers when he was about three months old. Until then it was hard, at times. It was hard to hear him cry, when we didn't know what was going on. When we knew he wasn't hungry or wet. We made sure we have checked everything, but we still didn't know and he was upset. We knew that the only thing we had to offer were our arms, our presence. But then - that is what we would offer to each other. There are, and there always will be, bad days, moments of anger or frustration. I want my friends to be there for me. Not to try and stop me from crying - I feel really so much better after a good cry.<br />
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Then there were those familiar fingers, more controlled, his own. Sometimes our son has trouble falling asleep - then he uses his fingers to help him out a bit. Sometimes that's not enough, then he calls for us. Then we know that he needs us. But this is his amazing first step towards being independent - he can have some control over his feelings. It's not us who decide when to cry and when to stop.<br />
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A few days ago Antek rolled over and hit his head. A second later he put his fingers in his mouth, and before we knew it he was ready to roll around happily. I was bursting at the seams. It was pretty impressive to see his six-month old independence.<br />
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Of course he still cries sometimes. We try to look for the reasons, understand what is wrong. But if we can't...well, we all need to cry sometimes. So we give him what we think we would need in a moment like this - ourselves.<br />
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A beautiful post on this is <a href="http://piklerexperience.blogspot.com/2010/08/thumbs-up.html">here. </a>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-44053462714629691192010-11-20T14:47:00.000-08:002010-11-28T11:19:02.874-08:00The art of falling down<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVc6zbM1fyaRn3zY0j2c2_lGC1vyPPaEYJ4AzjcgoEqkll9Ic6H1f47z83Fcj2GPwWV3FGxmNVC3YHGa2meoe_tn-L1EXXWW2ACm7YKgq6pP4nARIr9RXcxwB8nB77BEz1aqd_TOqCNk/s1600/_DSC3713.JPG" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="132" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEjbVc6zbM1fyaRn3zY0j2c2_lGC1vyPPaEYJ4AzjcgoEqkll9Ic6H1f47z83Fcj2GPwWV3FGxmNVC3YHGa2meoe_tn-L1EXXWW2ACm7YKgq6pP4nARIr9RXcxwB8nB77BEz1aqd_TOqCNk/s200/_DSC3713.JPG" width="200" /></a></div><b>Some time ago our son rolled off his blanket and hit his head on the wooden floor. Not hard enough to make him cry, but hard enough to make him look around a bit shocked. I was on the way to pick him up and put him back on the softer surface, when he rolled again and hit his head again. When he rolled for the third time he kept his head up and lowered it down very very slowly. Only then I understood that he was learning the art of falling down...</b><br />
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When I started learning how to ski and then snowboard I remember being taught how to fall down. I don't remember anymore if I enjoyed it or not, but I remember being told over and over again, that we had to know how to fall down, because whether we liked it or not we will, sooner or later, fall. And when we do, it's best if we know how.<br />
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I would love for my son always to be safe, never to worry that something is going to happen to him, but I know already that's impossible. I will worry. I already do. But I know that I will worry less if I know that he knows how to take care of himself. And one of the ways in which he can learn to take care of himself is learning how to fall.<br />
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There is a lot of exploring newborn people have ahead of them, and a lot of it in the beginning is focussed around their bodies and their closest environment. Our son has a safe place where he spends most of his time, constantly discovering. The space is big enough so he can roll around. But even in the safest of places there is a piece of wooden floor, a plastic toy, bars. And then there is all the movement to be discovered, movement that can potentially lead to falling down. But that's okay, because that is what the world out there looks like. There will always be unknown situations, unfamiliar street corners, new surroundings, and the best way to learn how to manoeuvre out there is to start from the beginning.<br />
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Dr Emmi Pikler says this about falling: 'It is important that the infant becomes careful herself. When, out of fear that she might hurt herself, we protect her from every bump, and pad everything around her, we really are not helping her. We should let an infant try things out for himself. If he has bumped himself two or three times, he will instinctively learn to protect himself.'<br />
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With new movements comes new 'body memory'. So far our son has learnt that he can roll over without hitting his head. If we put pillows all around him, he would not know that. We would be putting him in danger of hurting himself more when, at some point, we would not be around to put pillows or catch him. And with new body memory, comes more secure movement. Less restricted movement. Because now he knows, that he will fall. And he knows how to do it.Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com2tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-39692528320537928932010-11-16T13:48:00.000-08:002010-11-28T11:19:32.146-08:00The problem of sleep<div class="separator" style="clear: both; text-align: center;"><a href="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi887YSgRXafXpJQcboCRv3ybGxkS_aoYDXug9gKmDHBKw-ZVUbjQYUTnvyIzGzggw02dFT2NmrhXdJCPtBuAKKP-Xx79QZq5A1CpJIGL9z8K33C41JiT3IF4I8QQg15GQzjdeG695QSO8/s1600/Antek+zzz.jpg" imageanchor="1" style="clear: left; float: left; margin-bottom: 1em; margin-right: 1em;"><img border="0" height="200" src="https://blogger.googleusercontent.com/img/b/R29vZ2xl/AVvXsEi887YSgRXafXpJQcboCRv3ybGxkS_aoYDXug9gKmDHBKw-ZVUbjQYUTnvyIzGzggw02dFT2NmrhXdJCPtBuAKKP-Xx79QZq5A1CpJIGL9z8K33C41JiT3IF4I8QQg15GQzjdeG695QSO8/s200/Antek+zzz.jpg" width="132" /></a></div><div style="color: black;"><b>I used to have a son who had no problem falling asleep by himself, woke only a couple of times a night, and went straight back to sleep after being fed. We were happy and oh-so-proud. Then something happened (that infamous something, if only I knew what it was...) and now at the age of six months we are working really hard to help him enjoy going to sleep, falling asleep and staying asleep. Some nights we work very hard.</b></div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">Someone once told me that new parents complain about one of the two things when it comes to their babies: eating (or not) or sleeping (or not). Sleeping is our battleground. Our son is an active, happy little boy, who has incredible difficulty winding down, and even more difficulty falling back to sleep when we're not there. A while ago he started waking up in the middle of the night, not hungry, not wet, just needing company. We went, sat by his bed, he went back to sleep. We got up from the chair, he woke up and cried. When that 7 o'clock alarm rang, we were spent. </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">I looked for answers, as all parents do, and realised there are as many answers as there are people providing them. There seems to be no pattern, no one cause, and no one solution. As those difficult evenings and nights continued, we were ready to try just about anything. I don't think there is a website out there I have not tried to look through. Finally, we realised the only way to deal with it was take it easy, know that 'this too shall pass' and have a plan. Knowing what the plan was, and reminding each other of it turned out to be very important, because you really tend to forget about everything when it's (again) three in the morning. </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">The 'loud nights' were hardest. There are fewer of them right now, but sometimes they still happen. We didn't rock him to sleep, but we didn't leave him lying in the dark and crying all alone. I would not leave my husband alone in a room if he needed my help, and I do not leave my son. But I would not carry him around the room for hours on end either. Just because I will not continue doing this forever, and if I don't want to keep doing this, why even start?</div><div style="color: black;"><br />
</div><div style="color: black;">We fought against putting our little one to bed later - a lot of people advised we should try, but we believe babies should go to bed early. We slowed down, thought about it, and followed the simplest of Magda Gerber's advice: 'To have a respectful approach to your child's sleep is to help her learn good sleeping habits.' We set a routine, told our son about it, and have been following it with him. We tell him what will happen. We try and make the house as peaceful as possible for his sleep time. But we also don't want him to fall asleep with our hand on his cheek, because we learnt that when he wakes up in the middle of the night he is looking for that hand. And if it's not there that's just not fair. So right now we are doing as little as neccessary reassuring him that he can do it, and that we are there in case he needed us. But we try not to put him to sleep. Some evenings are harder than others, but we are trying, and we know that eventually he will learn. And just knowing this has made all the difference. </div><div style="color: black;"><br />
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More on sleep here: <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/2009/09/sleep-on-this/">http://www.janetlansbury.com/2009/09/sleep-on-this/</a> and here: <a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/2009/09/back-to-sleep-part-ii-of-sleep-on-this/">http://www.janetlansbury.com/2009/09/back-to-sleep-part-ii-of-sleep-on-this/</a></div>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com0tag:blogger.com,1999:blog-1142420778742259252.post-23318503531019524922010-11-12T12:10:00.001-08:002010-11-12T12:10:27.228-08:00Magda Gerber - the why and howThis should have really been the first post on this blog, as an explanation is due.<br />
Six months ago I gave birth to a wonderful boy. Before he arrived while we were expecting him there were numerous conversations about how we are going to raise him, and what our parenting philosophy should be. That's when a friend mentioned RIE approach. We looked it up and knew that this should be something we would strive to achieve in our parenthood. When our son was born I had many questions, so I ventured out and found millions of answers, approaches, lots and lots of advice. Six months down the road I am back to Magda Gerber, now more than ever convinced that this is the approach I will strive to adopt raising my son. So I'm back.<br />
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There are two reasons I decided to start this blog: there is so much information about all different methods, philosophies and ways you can apply when dealing with children out there on the web. There is not much about Magda Gerber, Emmi Pikler and the RIE approach. There is virtually nothing in Polish, which is why this blog will be both in Polish and English.<br />
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And the second reason is to keep myself on track with what I still believe is a good, healthy way of raising a child.<br />
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For those interested and wanting more information I recommend:<br />
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<a href="http://rie.org/">http://rie.org/</a><br />
<a href="http://www.educarer.org/">http://www.educarer.org/ </a><br />
<a href="http://www.janetlansbury.com/">http://www.janetlansbury.com/ </a>Aniahttp://www.blogger.com/profile/06093124859310191719noreply@blogger.com0