On the move. Or: how to tame the dragon.

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?

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 is 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. 

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.  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.

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.

Talk, explain, and then talk some more

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 :)

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.

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.

Add pictures to your words

I don't paint or draw for Antek. This is the only time I make an exception. 

'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 -  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...

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.

Practice

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.

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. Don't underestimate your little one's memory, 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!

Don't pretend it's not going to happen.

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.

That's it.

And we got there. After 48 hours and 6 flights. To a place Antek has not seen before (again...)

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.

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 :)

Get everyone involved

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.

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 not 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 :)

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.

Breathe 

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.

I don't know how to tell you...

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? 

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?'...


Too small, too young...


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...

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.

They won't remember


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?

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...').

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?

Just because it's easier


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 :).

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?

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...


photo taken from http://signewhitson.com/2011/09/i-can-not-tell-a-lie-when-role-modeling-backfires/

A personal note on rewards, praise and punishment...

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.


Same thing?

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?


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. (Alfie Kohn, 'Punished by Rewards')


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?


The need for praise


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 because I knew they would get me some applause, 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...


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.


Maybe we don't need it?


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.


... 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. (Alfie Kohn, 'Punished by Rewards')


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. 


And on the ridiculous side of things...


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...


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 :)

Food is on my mind...

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?'

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.

Respect.  When the subject is mentioned, pediatrician Emmi Pikler sticks out her tongue.  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. (from an interview with Emmi Pikler, reproduced on Little River School blog)

As always, we have found that it's all about trust and respect. 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 life-long benefits.  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...

Know when to stop

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.

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.

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.

Emotional experience

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 :)

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?

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 here).

Trust me, you'll like it

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.

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.

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.

Slow.down.some.more.

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...

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...

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.

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.

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.

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...):

Slow down, you're doing fine, you can't be everything you want to be before your time...

 

Lessons from the box of crayons

"... 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." (Gabriel Garcia Marquez, One Hundred Years of Solitude)

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.

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:

1. Crayons roll when thrown on the ground.
2. Crayons roll faster when thrown on the ground, than when placed carefully and pushed lightly.
3. Crayons roll faster and in one direction when put on the ground and pushed hard
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)
5. Rolling rocks (sic!)
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)
7. Crayons make a very good sound when you bang them on the floor
8. Crayons make an excellent sound when you bang them on the fridge door
9. The sound when crayons are banged on the pillow is not exciting at all
10. Some crayons float
11. Crayons are not delicious
12. Pink and red crayons look lovely when put  next to herbs in the garden
13. Blue crayons not so much
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)
15. The cat in the garden is not happy when crayons fly in his general direction

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).

Be careful what you teach. It might interfere with what they are learning.  (Magda Gerber)

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.

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.

When you teach a child something you take away forever his chance of discovering it for himself. (Jean Piaget)

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...

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?

[somewhat related, very thoughtful and wonderful posts from Janet Lansbury and Teacher Tom]

My feelings are REAL !!! (or the day all hell broke loose...)

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. 

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.

There were three things I wanted to try hard and make sure that we get from this loud expression of ... anger, I guess:

1. ALL feelings are fine. 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)

2. Not all actions are fine. 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.

3. You are great and we love you. No matter what.

Korczak 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?

'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' (Robert Bly, "The book on the human shadow")

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.

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)

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?