How did I gain perspective last week?
I traded one two year old for twenty of them.
As part of a job interview I volunteered a few hours in the local Montessori school. The job was described to me as a Two Year Old Specialist. I smiled, thinking I got this in the bag, I have both personally and professionally watched 4 boys grow through ages 1-3. Including my own who's presently 7 months in to being two.
The director and I chatted about a few characteristics of two year old's so we can show each other that we understand what it really means to have a preschool room specifically for two's. Low impulse control, strong emotions, the need for physical help to do most fine motor skills, and minimal short term memory. We discussed behavior management techniques including a cool down place, neither punitive or rewarding. Just a place to be with your emotions of sadness or anger until you feel they've passed and you can then continue on where ever you left off. (Who wouldn't benefit from doing that every once and a while?)
As much as I know all of this, and can practice it in a professional setting, at home it seems to all fall apart.
When you're with a child (or a pet) who can, for the most part, communicate day in day out, you can seemingly see sophistication in their every move. In turn, you start to see them as older and more mature than they are. Your expectations go up and you expect that they can retain information and apply it in the right situation as well. We see malicious intent in their actions as if to seek to ruin your day. We think they see our weakened concentration by being on the phone and choose then to use your curtains as a cape, while they're still attached to the wall. Maybe they do, and developmentally it's a success that they are capable of capitalizing on a situation. My love for that age and stage can see that. Sometimes though, being on the job 24 hours a day for years can leave one feeling breathless with the amount of verbal instruction they need to navigate through the world every day. I'll sadly admit that's how I've been feeling a lot of the time lately.
On that day at the school, I became refreshed.
I observed little tiny people with their emotions on their fresh faces, standing no more than three feet off the ground, each bore a unique expression. Sulking, hesitant, friendly from afar. Bewildered, trusting, sad, and skeptical. They have no ability to hide their feelings, they just stand there with their hearts on their sleeves, right there beside the snot slime and dry leaves.
Some easily melt into your lap when they need a hug. Others need to be sure that you're the right person to provide the comfort they crave, once they've come to terms with the fact that mommy's not coming back this very second. Feeling a mother's love for each of these babes, I had to jump in and try and win these heartbroken toddlers over. If my child was feeling that sad (or happy) I'd want to be right there with them. When leaving your child with someone else you pray that that person will be there for them like you would, I feel that's the most important part of working in childcare, far above a neutral colored environment and educationally stimulating specialty toys.
I spent a few hours away from my two year old and instead spent the time with twenty of them, it was the perfect remedy for a perspective shift. I could now see the innocence back in his face, the fun and love that he so willingly gives to everyone. We've been having less tantrums, squabbles and spats since I started bringing my work home with me, once again trying to channel Nanny Leah back into my motherhood.
Sunday 30 October 2011
Thursday 1 September 2011
For the Love of Seuss
Dr. Seuss is often sillyBut his books are more than Willy Nilly.
His lessons survive the sands of time
Teaching us more than just how to Rhyme.
I could recite Wocket in my Pocket by heart. One Fish's diverse characters (and the voices I gave them) kept me from boredom though repetition the way Caillou could not, Yet with an appetite for change, a trip with the Tater Tots to the Millennium Library brought back to our office some old classics that I'd only known the names of. Not sure I read them as a kid myself but they made a lasting impression on me as I left my teens behind.
The Lorax, written 40 years ago, taught early tree huggers the value of a forest. The Grinch, in his popularity, reminds us every year of the secular meaning of Christmas, (anti-consumerist activism at it's best) but it wasn't until a few weeks ago that Dr. Seuss' wisdom nearly moved me to tears.
Feeling bored at home with my kids years later I asked myself What Would Nanny Leah Do? It was then remembered how much fun I had Free-Ranging with the boys at the library and finding treasures. So I loaded my double stroller with my kidlets and went 'On an Adventure' - as the Cat in the Hat would now say.An adventure indeed. It was stressful and frustrating. Leaving my stroller outside, I carried my 20lb five month old in my arms as my two year old blasted through the quiet sanctuary of books, harassing school age girls with his obvious statements about which items were tables and which were chairs. Corralling him while browsing books was a challenge I could have set myself up better for.
Alas we finally made our way to the checkout with a few new stories to discover that my boy is now poopy and my adventure wasn't over yet. Using my strength, patience and pure trained skills I changed him with one hand, still holding the baby, while he stood on a wall mounted change table because I refused to put her on the floor of the bathroom in the public library.
By the time we left the library and went back to the stroller, I was thoroughly fed up and hot. I marched home. Feeling like I'd just run a marathon I tossed the books aside while the three of us had our afternoon tantrum together.
Days later, before bedtime I remembered the new books we hadn't read yet and snuggled on the couch to read, Oh, the Places You'll go. After only a few pages I knew this would be a book I had to own. The whimsy of Seuss still rampant though it's pages yet, wiser words were not found in Life of Pi or Sophie's World, my treasured novels of philosophy. It had a message of adventure without the sugar coating most kids books feel mandatory these days. It had a realism about the toil and trouble that life has to offer and the comfort of a seasoned parent in it's tough love fact that you must push past the scary stages and phases of our life's journey.
"You can get all hung up
in a prickle-ly perch.
And your gang will fly on.
You'll be left in a Lurch.
...
With a banner flip-flapping,
once more you'll ride high!
Ready for anything under the sky.
Ready because you're that kind of guy!"
My perilous quest to the library was worth it. The encouragement in that book was exactly what I needed to hear. Putting life in perspective, Bumps and Slumps are part of learning because "Un-Slumping yourself is not easily done" but with "Brains in your head and feet in your shoes, you can steer yourself in any direction you choose".
I choose to read as much Seuss as possible in my early childhood philosophy, reminding Plato and Niche not to take life so seriously.
Friday 26 August 2011
Embracing Why
My son wasn't the first one to bombard me with the dreaded Why phase most kids go though.
As a childless young woman Why was a fabled stage of toddlerhood. Movies, TV sitcoms and mothers I knew shared stories of the exasperating Why question that gets set on repeat until they're satisfied with your explanation. Which is never. Or so I was lead to believe.
As an enthusiastic nanny to some very bright boys years ago, Why was a super fun game. Back then I had the patience to give as many answers in as much depth as I could muster before using God and the Big Bang as a final answer. (Gotta give them a rounded perspective!) That worked for nature/science questions anyway like where the spring time buds come from or the truth about what happens to the bugs caught in our outdoor 'pet' spider's web.
The real learning for me came from questions on behaviour; Why couldn't they stand on the chair, Why did they have to hold my hand across the street, Why should they share their snack?
Most of us know that unless it's said in a strong enough authoritative manner "Because I said so" doesn't usually cut it. Not to mention I think it's demeaning of their right to know the truth and cuts off their curiosity. I like to use levels of truth should be used based on age appropriateness.
It took the children asking me Why to challenge my thoughts on some of the rules and regulations of childhood. As a rebel child myself, I tried to honour their burgeoning sense of independence. Sure you can cross the street without holding hands if you pay attention and make it snappy.
I started to preemptively ask myself Why and found that a lot of the time I didn't have a very good answer, not one I thought fair to tell them anyway. It was then I learned a skill that I was able to transfer into parenthood, on most good days that is.
I decided that if my internal answer was something along the lines of, Because I find it annoying, Because I don't want you to or because you *could* get hurt in-a-really-obscure-not-very-likely-way, I'd drop it and let them carry on.
When the answer sounded more like Because it's disrespectful, Because it's dangerous to yourself/others/the valued object, Because it's not good friendship I'd stick to my guns and provide as many explanations of my explanations as I could possibly come up with before I start repeating myself, or until we start laughing at the repetition.
This is especially helpful for me now when I find myself getting frustrated with a behaviour. Why keeps me in check and inspires deeper questions for me. Is it really that bad? Is it my problem or theirs? Can I cut some slack this time or should I really drill this rule? Is this something that I can't stop kids from doing (like jumping in the house)? Is it worth the stress of enforcement if it's not a big deal?
Coming up with my reasons and rationale before I ask them do start or stop something, makes me confident in my answer, a confidence that helps the kids trust that I sometimes know what I'm talking about. Don't dread Why, embrace it, you might learn something while teaching.
...hopefully I'll remember this in 10 years when my toddlers are teens...
As a childless young woman Why was a fabled stage of toddlerhood. Movies, TV sitcoms and mothers I knew shared stories of the exasperating Why question that gets set on repeat until they're satisfied with your explanation. Which is never. Or so I was lead to believe.
As an enthusiastic nanny to some very bright boys years ago, Why was a super fun game. Back then I had the patience to give as many answers in as much depth as I could muster before using God and the Big Bang as a final answer. (Gotta give them a rounded perspective!) That worked for nature/science questions anyway like where the spring time buds come from or the truth about what happens to the bugs caught in our outdoor 'pet' spider's web.
The real learning for me came from questions on behaviour; Why couldn't they stand on the chair, Why did they have to hold my hand across the street, Why should they share their snack?
Most of us know that unless it's said in a strong enough authoritative manner "Because I said so" doesn't usually cut it. Not to mention I think it's demeaning of their right to know the truth and cuts off their curiosity. I like to use levels of truth should be used based on age appropriateness.
It took the children asking me Why to challenge my thoughts on some of the rules and regulations of childhood. As a rebel child myself, I tried to honour their burgeoning sense of independence. Sure you can cross the street without holding hands if you pay attention and make it snappy.
I started to preemptively ask myself Why and found that a lot of the time I didn't have a very good answer, not one I thought fair to tell them anyway. It was then I learned a skill that I was able to transfer into parenthood, on most good days that is.
I decided that if my internal answer was something along the lines of, Because I find it annoying, Because I don't want you to or because you *could* get hurt in-a-really-obscure-not-very-likely-way, I'd drop it and let them carry on.
When the answer sounded more like Because it's disrespectful, Because it's dangerous to yourself/others/the valued object, Because it's not good friendship I'd stick to my guns and provide as many explanations of my explanations as I could possibly come up with before I start repeating myself, or until we start laughing at the repetition.
This is especially helpful for me now when I find myself getting frustrated with a behaviour. Why keeps me in check and inspires deeper questions for me. Is it really that bad? Is it my problem or theirs? Can I cut some slack this time or should I really drill this rule? Is this something that I can't stop kids from doing (like jumping in the house)? Is it worth the stress of enforcement if it's not a big deal?
Coming up with my reasons and rationale before I ask them do start or stop something, makes me confident in my answer, a confidence that helps the kids trust that I sometimes know what I'm talking about. Don't dread Why, embrace it, you might learn something while teaching.
...hopefully I'll remember this in 10 years when my toddlers are teens...
Tuesday 5 July 2011
My Work is Play
I loved the way the boys I was a nanny to could not define me.
When asked if I was their teacher, they’d look as though I’d asked them if grass was purple. One of them was in a Montessori school part time by then, he had a ‘Teacher’. Although the term is loose in that environment, that was not Leah.
When we asked them if I was their friend, still they’d say no. They were each other’s friends, their age, their size, they’re similar likes and hobbies. That was not Leah by their understanding of the word.
What is Leah then? “Leah”, they‘d respond, and they were right. I was just myself, talking to them like I was a peer but also helping them get their snack and taking them out to do fun things. They were my friends and I cared for them the way I cared for any of my other friends. With love, trust, respect and generosity.
Leah was lost somewhere when Mommy arrived. A slight identity crisis that happens to a lot of mom’s whether it’s their first child or not. Leah dove right into the love and adoration that sometimes comes with motherhood but she took everything too seriously, read too many books on parenting, all the maintenance of day to day living overcame my love for play and reading and stroller free walks.
In trying to get Leah back, I thought I had to become more selfish, find ’me’ time, find time away from the kids or do things I want to do and the kids can come along. That was backwards or at least unbalanced.
Before I went back to work when O was 11 months, I was jealous that someone else got to spend the precious early years with him, like I got to with the boys, and now I feel like I’m taking this time on mat leave for granted. It recently became clear to me that what I want to do is play with kids and learn with them while exposing them to new ideas and new places. Spending this quality time with them IS ‘me’ time.
I was still able to keep a clean and organised workplace and meet up with friends at the park on occasion, but the kids were obviously my #1 job. Engaging them in building or stick hunting or bussing to the library was my job and I couldn’t dream of doing anything else.
Owen’s now learned that Mommy’s name is Leah, and I honestly love it when he calls me that sometimes. It brings me back to me and I look at him as one of my little friends and it sparks a light in my eye shifting my perspective and reminding me to play. Show him what a good friend Leah can be.
I took a small course once with the Manitoba Child Care Association called The Virtues Project, where they associate all behaviour with a virtue and by positively reminding the child/person to possess that virtue you can bring out their best.. When I saw Detachment as virtue I was confused at the time but now I understand. By detaching yourself from a situation emotionally you can look at things more objectively and the answers are clear.
When asked if I was their teacher, they’d look as though I’d asked them if grass was purple. One of them was in a Montessori school part time by then, he had a ‘Teacher’. Although the term is loose in that environment, that was not Leah.
When we asked them if I was their friend, still they’d say no. They were each other’s friends, their age, their size, they’re similar likes and hobbies. That was not Leah by their understanding of the word.
What is Leah then? “Leah”, they‘d respond, and they were right. I was just myself, talking to them like I was a peer but also helping them get their snack and taking them out to do fun things. They were my friends and I cared for them the way I cared for any of my other friends. With love, trust, respect and generosity.
Leah was lost somewhere when Mommy arrived. A slight identity crisis that happens to a lot of mom’s whether it’s their first child or not. Leah dove right into the love and adoration that sometimes comes with motherhood but she took everything too seriously, read too many books on parenting, all the maintenance of day to day living overcame my love for play and reading and stroller free walks.
In trying to get Leah back, I thought I had to become more selfish, find ’me’ time, find time away from the kids or do things I want to do and the kids can come along. That was backwards or at least unbalanced.
Before I went back to work when O was 11 months, I was jealous that someone else got to spend the precious early years with him, like I got to with the boys, and now I feel like I’m taking this time on mat leave for granted. It recently became clear to me that what I want to do is play with kids and learn with them while exposing them to new ideas and new places. Spending this quality time with them IS ‘me’ time.
I was still able to keep a clean and organised workplace and meet up with friends at the park on occasion, but the kids were obviously my #1 job. Engaging them in building or stick hunting or bussing to the library was my job and I couldn’t dream of doing anything else.
Owen’s now learned that Mommy’s name is Leah, and I honestly love it when he calls me that sometimes. It brings me back to me and I look at him as one of my little friends and it sparks a light in my eye shifting my perspective and reminding me to play. Show him what a good friend Leah can be.
I took a small course once with the Manitoba Child Care Association called The Virtues Project, where they associate all behaviour with a virtue and by positively reminding the child/person to possess that virtue you can bring out their best.. When I saw Detachment as virtue I was confused at the time but now I understand. By detaching yourself from a situation emotionally you can look at things more objectively and the answers are clear.
I’m going to try, going forward to detach myself from Mommy sometimes and just be me. I have a feeling the stress of the moment will fall away, teachable moments will arise and Leah can get back to Play.
Friday 1 July 2011
I had Kids before I had Kids
I had kids before I had kids.
The years I spent as a nanny to three amazing little boys, I feel, gave me a leg up on motherhood. Learning from three different personalities from three separate families exposed me to countless scenarios of what babies eat, how they play and what disasters happen to a baby’s body when they teethe.
Landing a job as an in-office nanny at 20 years old I felt like I just scored the greatest gig of my lifetime. It was. Duties included blowing bubbles, prepping snack and soothing tears. While others went through computerized personality tests to work in stuffy offices, I was so excited to spend my days hanging with the babies at the park, indoors at playgroups, or riding the bus to the library. I could find educational experiences for the one year old's in the most mundane of tasks!
I also experienced the sweet satisfaction of rocking a child to sleep in your arms, it was one of my life’s greatest joys hands down. Likely because they are such precious angels of cuteness when they’re asleep but mostly I think it’s because it's a part of the job that makes you work the hardest. It tested levels of patience, perseverance and the ability to withstand noise that I didn’t know I had. The cuddle of cuteness was the best reward, and admittedly, I'd hold them for just a little longer once asleep in admiration, rather than place them in their playpen right away.
This experience was invaluable when my first born was not a sleeper. Nearly three years later I still struggle to get him to sleep most of the time and it's definitely not my greatest joy in life. It is a little easier knowing at least one other kid I knew who also wasn't big on sleeping and needed lots of assistance falling asleep. Normalcy is such a comfort and shared experience makes tough times less scary.
As time went on I continued to count my blessings, the babies I first met blossomed into awesome little kids and their families became extended parts of my own.
I knew that things would be different when I would be on the mommy side of the equation. I witnessed the boys often melting down for their mum’s at 5 o’ clock. I watched in disbelief as they occasionally lost all manners, patience and gross motor ability as soon as their mum’s came though the sliding door. I tried to reassure the moms that the boys were stellar for me all day and that they’re just acting out because they ‘love you so much’ and it’s a sign of unconditional love (or so I read in the What To Expect Books during nap time). I had all the answers back then.
I knew things would be different as a mom but I didn’t know in how many ways until I had my first baby. I now honour the times when it’s the same.
The times I can channel that inner playmate/guide and forget about the tasks of being at home. It’s a magic time I can spend with my kids because it reminds me of the time I spent with 'my' first three in the days of youthful enthusiasm for natural teaching.
The years I spent as a nanny to three amazing little boys, I feel, gave me a leg up on motherhood. Learning from three different personalities from three separate families exposed me to countless scenarios of what babies eat, how they play and what disasters happen to a baby’s body when they teethe.
Landing a job as an in-office nanny at 20 years old I felt like I just scored the greatest gig of my lifetime. It was. Duties included blowing bubbles, prepping snack and soothing tears. While others went through computerized personality tests to work in stuffy offices, I was so excited to spend my days hanging with the babies at the park, indoors at playgroups, or riding the bus to the library. I could find educational experiences for the one year old's in the most mundane of tasks!
I also experienced the sweet satisfaction of rocking a child to sleep in your arms, it was one of my life’s greatest joys hands down. Likely because they are such precious angels of cuteness when they’re asleep but mostly I think it’s because it's a part of the job that makes you work the hardest. It tested levels of patience, perseverance and the ability to withstand noise that I didn’t know I had. The cuddle of cuteness was the best reward, and admittedly, I'd hold them for just a little longer once asleep in admiration, rather than place them in their playpen right away.
This experience was invaluable when my first born was not a sleeper. Nearly three years later I still struggle to get him to sleep most of the time and it's definitely not my greatest joy in life. It is a little easier knowing at least one other kid I knew who also wasn't big on sleeping and needed lots of assistance falling asleep. Normalcy is such a comfort and shared experience makes tough times less scary.
As time went on I continued to count my blessings, the babies I first met blossomed into awesome little kids and their families became extended parts of my own.
I knew that things would be different when I would be on the mommy side of the equation. I witnessed the boys often melting down for their mum’s at 5 o’ clock. I watched in disbelief as they occasionally lost all manners, patience and gross motor ability as soon as their mum’s came though the sliding door. I tried to reassure the moms that the boys were stellar for me all day and that they’re just acting out because they ‘love you so much’ and it’s a sign of unconditional love (or so I read in the What To Expect Books during nap time). I had all the answers back then.
I knew things would be different as a mom but I didn’t know in how many ways until I had my first baby. I now honour the times when it’s the same.
The times I can channel that inner playmate/guide and forget about the tasks of being at home. It’s a magic time I can spend with my kids because it reminds me of the time I spent with 'my' first three in the days of youthful enthusiasm for natural teaching.
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