Weepy Wednesday 22/2/2012

I find myself unusually weepy this morning.

This may have a little something to do with my upcoming 40th birthday.

It is more likely to have something to do with the arrival of my monthly visitor this morning, which is always sure to get the waterworks on a hair trigger.

It most certainly has something to do with events a year ago today.

February 2011 we were visiting family. The goal of the visits were manifold.
A/- it would be 6 months since we officially started homeschooling, and there was the intention that I´d get to have a little down time, while the boys spent some quality time with their grandparents.
B/- the boys were fascinated with volcanoes, so we were to go down to look at and explore some of the features of the dormant volcanoe (Banks Peninsula) that my husband and I grew up upon the edge of, and whose features I was very familar. I was to show the boys some of the spectacular scenery.
C/- T´s fear of the idea of earthquakes also prompted me to privately hope that on the aftermath of the September 2010 earthquake, that we´d experience a little wobble or two while we were in the Christchurch area. Oh boy how I have rued that secret hope in the days and months since.
D/- to go Ice skating. Wellington doesn´t have an ice skating rink, and the boys were keen to try this out. We planned to go on February the 23rd with some of the local homeschoolers group.
E/- spend time with Carl´s cousin´s family, also homeschooling and Unschooling.

On Tuesday the 22nd of February, my boys left in the morning with Grandma and Grandad. Grandma was going to visit Great Grandad, and drop Grandad and the boys off at the Canterbury Museum. I was to have my first glorious "day to myself" since we started our homeschooling adventure 6 months prior.

An entire day to myself. I was giddy.

I decided to fill the van´s petrol tank in readiness for our drive North on Thursday. The plan was to stay the night in Hanmer Springs, before going home on the BlueBridge ferry on Friday. I anticipated a leaisurely day, and a leisurely visit to H.S. and a leisurley drive, and a quite crossing with the ferry practically to ourselves.

I went to the supermarket to pick up a few items for the trip, and figured I could get dinner etc in H.S. while there, at the thermal pool resort. I went to the lovely Gluten Free shop in Rangiora, and enjoyed the luxury of being able to choose any item, without having to fear that it may cause me intense gastro-intestinal pain. I ambled home (in the van). Put the Gluten free pie in the micro-wave and heated it in aniticpation. Half way through I took it out, as per instructions, and moved it, put it back in, and re-started the micro-wave.

 The house started to sway.

I hit the stop button, and walked to the door at the end of the hallway. I watched the other end of the hall way appear and disappear from view, as the house swayed from side to side. A picture fell of the book shelf, and a couple of books fell onto the floor. I righted the picture, and returned the books to the shelf. I re-started the microwave, and went to get my cell. "T must be freaking out", I thought to myself, I´d better check that Grandad´s coping with him. "Felt that out here... How´s T?" I received a reply almost immediately. "Ok, we are all ok". To my surprise, the cell phone rang very shortly there after. It was my Father-in-law, calling to let me know they were okay,a nd he gave me each of the boys, to say hello.

I felt strangely touched, and bemused that he apparently thought I´d be that worried about them.

The Micro-wave beeped, my lunch was ready. What to do? I think I´ll go lie down with a book, or have a bath, put first I´ll just go on facebook while I eat lunch. The pie was good. I went to heat the second pie... A friend of mine posted a link to a Stuff (or maybe Herald) article with a picture of the Christchurch Cathedral, minus it´s spire. "Shit" I thought. "My boys are just a few blocks away from there" I opened the article to see if there was any other damage. I scrolled down the article one line leapt out at me. Something to the effect of "Fatalaities are bound to occur this time"

I don´t remember much about that second pie. I´m sure it was as good as the other... then again, maybe I didn´t eat it at all. I don´t remember. It wasn´t important.

My babies, the ones that I had waited for for so long were in possibly the scariest situation they may ever have to deal with... AND I WAS NOT THERE WITH THEM.

The urge to get into the van and drive down to Christchurch and get my babies was overwhelming. My Neo-cortex over rode me... How will you even locate them... what good will it do, you´ll just add to the confusion... leave the space for the people who can help... How will the boys feel if they get here, and you´re not here to meet them? I think it was that last one that clinched it.

A new series of thoughts wormed their way into my head. What are they seeing? How will I know what they are dealing with, when I´ve never experienced anything like this? K has just turned 5, how will he process that? T sometimes has trouble talking on a good day, how is he going to be able to let me know what he saw? How will I be able to know what to provide for them, and get them through this? How will I know what words to use to empower them to express these things that they are going through right now?

I turned on the TV.

It was horrifying.

My babies were going through this.

Other people´s babies were injured.

Other peoples babies were dead and other peoples babies were trapped.

It was frustrating... no views of the museum, or the areas that my boys were in. In retrospect this was a good thing, nothing drastic enough for the cameras. For a mother desparate for a glimpse of her babies, it simply wasn´t good enough.

Sure they were fine. I had the text and the phone call from Grandad. Follow up texts had let me know that they´d managed to meet up with grandma, and were driving home... slowly, but making progress.

The land-line phone rang. Extended family members were reporting in. I took notes, not sure that I´d be able to remember it all later. I shared what I knew with each member as they called in. Slowly the extended family got to know that everyone was okay. We were lucky. Very Lucky. Sure property was damaged, but not one family member was hurt. Not one family member was dead.

I continued to watch the news. I had no idea how long it would take for my children to get home. There was a chance that the Ashley River Bridge, which had become unstable after the September quake, might be closed, or simply gone, which would add hours to the drive, as they detoured. Turned out the bridge was fine. I got texts from Rangiora, and one from the bridge. I knew they were almost home.

I didn´t know what to do. Do I run out and hug them furiously, never letting them go? Possibly scaring the beegeebees out of them at the intensity of my emotions? Possibly crushing them and doing them an injury in my relief? I decided that I should wait for their cues, and be what they needed me to be. I opened the door and greeted them with my usual smile and warm "Hi". I waited to see how they were, so I´d know what they needed, so I could provide. I felt lost. My boys gave me a brief hug, and then sauntered in to the house.

Two days later, I was so very relieved that I had tanked up... there were petrol shortages everywhere, as people fled Christchurch and drove north. Petrol tankers were blocked in, the supply from Lyttleton cut off.

Hamner Springs was out of food, their suppliers, all in Christchurch, and an unprecedented number of visitors, getting away from Christchurch, going to where there was power, sanitation, and terra pacifica, consuming what had been on the shelves.

The road from Kaikoura to Picton was full. multiple trucks driving south bearing port-a-loos, diggers, army personnel and water tankers. Multiple families driving north. Cars filled with whatever and whomever they could fit in. The ferry Jam packed, and nervous starined exhausted conversation everywhere. two topics were discussed... where are you headed (and how to get there) and how bad was it for you? Meanwhile I scoured the paper I had purchased, looking for names of people I know in the lost, unaccounted, or dead columns.

I had texted a couple of friends, and never received a reply. I was fretful, yet telling myself, maybe their phones were out of battery power. Maybe the messages weren't getting through, the news was full of stories saying the networks were down, or overloaded. Surely they would be okay.

A year on, as I write this it only now occurrs to me that my Father in Law probably thought I knew just how bad it was in Christchurch when I sent my initial text, and that he very thoughtfully let me hear the boys´on the phone to reassure me.

A year on, I realise that the almost lack of response from the boys when they got home, was not indifference, but shell shock. I probably should have engulfed them in that hug I wanted so desperately to give them.

A year on, and my boys know an earthquake is scary. More importantly, my boys know an earthquake is survivable. My boys scan building for the nearest escape route, the first time they go in. My boys know where the civil defence kit is stored. My boys know that earthquakes canlead to Tsunami. My boys know where to go in the event of a tsunami. My boys know that there will be sirens warning of imminent Tsunami. My youngest, K does not like going anywhere near tall buildings, for fear they will fall down. I don't even bother telling them that it won't happen. How can I? We all know it can. They drove the Christchurch red zone as buildings crumbled and fell.

A year on, the city in which I grew up in, and where I have lived longer than any other place, is unrecognisable. My primary school is under rocks. Who knows what the houses I grew up in are like now. I suspect at least one, possibly two of them are engulfed with rock and dirt from the surrounding cliffs and hills which they were built beneath. I have only the internet with which to view these things. The newsies have no care for these places that were special to me. I live too far away to go for a casual drive past.

I fear and long for the opportunity to visit these places. Christmas we plan to go to Christchurch. That´s 10 months away. Alot can happen in that tme, as we have had ample proof in the 10 months since this date a year ago.

I am so very grateful that my boys, and my in-laws survived.

I ache for all those who lost.
Lost homes.
Lost lives.
Lost memories.
Lost family
and some who Lost hope.

I am in awe of those who stay.
Those who dream of the New City.
Those who work every day among the loss and destruction.
Those who repair.
Those who build.
Those who maintain hope.

Kia Kaha Otautahi.

I look forward to seeing what you have achieved by the time I can finally make my way down to you.

Wild Child! Not really no.

A day or two ago, one of the Facebook page / groups which I follow, posted a link to an article written by Sophie Radice, entitled “Should We Let Children RunWild?” with the query “How much do you let your children do?” The body of the article referred to, explains that the author met a young child apparently walking alone. Upon further reading, we learn that the author escorted the child home, and was surprised and concerned to hear from the child’s parents, that the child had been on a walk with the family, and the child had elected to follow at a slower pace, for some alone time and the family had respected this. The article also makes mention of a blog I follow "Free Range Kids" which I was pleased about, as the blog is one of my sources of reality check.

Since then I have been doing some reflecting, and it occurs to me that there is a big difference between “running wild’ and allowing your children the freedom to explore the world, yet for many the two are one in the same. I am not convinced that the general public fully comprehends this. I strongly believe that they are not the same thing, and each has a different answer. At the time, I posted the following (edited) comment / reply in Facebook

I decide on a case-by-case basis. There are numerous variables...

*Which child is asking?

*Do I trust that they will know what to do if something unexpected happens?

*Have I considered, and prepared them (and me) for the possibilities that could occur? 
*What do they (and I ) stand to gain from allowing this, or preventing it?

*Is my immediate response reasonable, or fear driven?

My 8 year old has always enjoyed going out and about, and meeting people. When he was 13 months old, he worked out how to open the gates, that I was sure were child proof, and would go out on the footpath. I was not as worried about this with him, as other children I have known, because I *know* vehicles then terrified him, and now he is still wary of them. I used to tell him exactly how far he could go and why (within visual range of the front window, so I could see him, in case he needed help) and explain that he needed to tell me before he went out (so that I would position myself in such a way as to see him while he was out there). I've seen how he behaves in these environments, and know he can handle it.

My 6 year old has no desire to go out exploring anywhere with out company. However when the time arrives that he does want to, I am confident that he too will be able to cope.

I have seen my 6 year old, (then 3) forcibly tell an elderly, yet unknown strange man "NO! You Don't Touch Me" when the man patted him on his head. The same child at 4 told our then 12 year old boy-who lived-next-door, whom he idolised, to stop hurting the little girl that was visiting our neighbours at the time. I have no problem with my boys going out together, without an adult, within the clearly stipulated guidelines of letting me know where they are going, and for how long.

I like that my children are interested in the wider world around them, and I want them to feel confident and competent. If I am not sure about something, I'll talk it through with them... explaining why I may not be happy about it. They will either accept it, because they hadn't considered the things I was concerned about, or they will rebutt with solutions to my reservations.

The 8 year old has gone out (with the intention of) bike riding around the block in the dark. Initially I had said it wasn't safe because vehicles wouldn't see them. That time I cursed myself for not having just said no... However after he spent a good hour experimenting on different techniques for adhering torches onto his bike and finally having strapped them to the front and back securely, it was a case of rewarding his efforts... and as it turned out, he was a bit worried about the dark, and only went for about 2 minutes before turning around and coming back home....

This is not letting your children run wild, it is knowing your children, knowing their limits and capabilities, and then ensuring they have the required skills to function in the world, and nourishing their early solo adventures out into the world.

Despite the fear mongering that occurs in the media, the world is a pretty marvellous place, and not nearly as terrifying as it is often made out to be... with common sense applied

I am aware that in today’s society, many people would consider what I wrote above to be letting my children run wild. I do not see it that way. Let’s take a look at what wild actually means, and why that doesn’t apply. My Collins Concise English Dictionary, Second Edition defines wild as follows (I’ve not included the definitions referring to animal, plant, weather, and landscape, and just included those directly pertaining to people)

4. living in a savage or uncivilised way

            my children know the road rules, are generally polite to others, and are as civilised as any person can be reasonably expected to be, considering their developmental age and stage. They are considerate of others, and have displayed an emerging awareness of how their actions impact others. Most importantly, they converse with others… all combined, hardly savage or uncivilised behaviours.

5. lacking restraint or control

            when my children go out and about there is an element of restraint, generally self-imposed. My boys are actually a little fearful of new experiences. They both require a reasonable amount of time to mentally prepare for new ventures, each in their different ways. My 8 year old prefers to have time to think about what is going to happen prior to things happening. When we go somewhere new, we generally discuss where we are going, what we may expect there, physically and socially, and what we might do when there, and discuss strategies of how we can find out more.

            My 6 year old prefers to observe from a removed distance for some time before removing his self imposed restraint, and will move to engage within the new activity. In most instances when we go somewhere new, we endeavour to be there either at ‘opening time’ or 5-10 minutes prior to ‘start’ or expected arrival tine to allow them the opportunity to assess the new environment.

            These are elements of restraint and control. Admittedly not in the sense of an adult controlling every movement, thought, or activity. That is not to say that I do not know what my boys are doing, or where they are. I have instilled in them very early on, the importance of letting someone know where you are going, and when you anticipate returning. I actually started this when my 8 year old was an infant. At the time, some hikers had gone for a long walk, and gotten lost. They had failed to tell anyone where they were going, and when they would return. As a result, it took a long time before they were reported missing, and when they were found, one was in dire health. I resolved there and then to make the practice of keeping in touch a natural habit. I reasoned that this was also practical in the event of a natural disaster or family emergency. Should something unexpected happen, then it is good to know where to find each other, so that we can act promptly in such an event. This has worked in our favour when we suddenly had to go to hospital due to a family emergency. When the boys were caught in Christchurch on February 22^nd 2011, they could see the value of knowing where the people you love are. They could see that the practice of letting others know where you are, is not a response to lack of ability, or distrust, but a common sense safety feature, to mitigate the negative consequences of events over which we have no control, i.e. in emergencies. My underlying philosophy is to encourage my boys to be able to engage in our world as functioning independent beings. The only way to successfully promote this, is to allow them opportunities on a regular basis to do so, and with every success, they can gain confidence in themselves, and are rewarded with a little more independence. This is what growing up is all about.

7. disorderly or chaotic

            as mentioned above, we have a strong element of control, in the orderly way we approach new environments and activities. We generally follow the same order of events and strategies in these cases, and when we return to an activity or location, we repeat these same thoughts and discussions until I get e frustrated “I Know, I know, I know… stop talking about it”(from the 8 year old) or “Babsie, you keep talking about it, I don’t need you to tell me anymore” (from the 6 year old)… interestingly the 8 year old is publicly the polite child.

            Conclusions to activities have a similar approach. There is always a warning… “In ten minutes it will be time to leave” followed by the 5 and 2 minute warning. Then when it’s time to go, I need simply say “Time” and they come along peacefully. Woe betide us all should I forget to give the warnings. Every now and then, I have quite lost track of time. If I preface it with “Boys I’m really sorry, I was having such a good time, that I lost track of time, and we really need to go right now, if we’re going to get to ____ on time” we don’t often get the tantrums and melt downs, as long as I have mentioned at the beginning of the day that there is a time table. Sudden unanticipated announcements of “We’re off” are neither orderly, nor free of chaos… both in their implementation on my part, and the resulting behaviours on theirs.

8. dishevelled or untidy

From a distance, an odd assortment of items in an untidy or dishevelled placement...

Closer inspection reveals a Clone Trooper base connected by ramps to a droid base

            with their standard of dress possibly excluded, this does not apply either. I often lament the apparent lack of tidiness within my home. However as we home school, this is not just home, it is also the boys’ primary learning environment. I have chosen to follow John Holt’s Unschooling philosophy, as the research into the application of self-directed learning, coupled with “big” works (which could also reasonably be termed  ‘project based learning’ as Reggio Emilio advocates would) shows that this is the most effective way of learning.

One of the key indicators this style of Un-schooling and similar styles of learning is the ability to engage in projects that encapsulate a wide range of materials, and continue over an extended time period. At first glance my living room looks like a disaster area with random piles of toys, block, instruments etc. closer inspection at the separate elements reveal that items have been clearly grouped, placed, and located in a style that with a little reflection and open minded thinking reveal the order within the untidy and dishevelled chaos.

10. reckless

            the strongest rebuttal I have towards reckless behaviours is an almost purely emotional one, for some this would make it the strongest argument, and for others the weakest. To fully grasp the emotional argument, some background information is required. In short, I have wanted to be a mother for a very long time. Some 3 months prior to my marriage, I had an accident that resulted in my GP recommending a 5 year wait before trying to have children, as my body would need that time to heal, and build up the strength required for carrying a baby to term, and afterwards. When that time period had elapsed we quickly became pregnant (jubilation) and at 16 weeks we miscarried. Yesterday was the 10^th anniversary of the expected date for that pregnancy… my baby would have been 10 years old). This was the first of numerous miscarriages, however this was also the longest unsuccessful pregnancy. All the others were lost in the “usual” 6-8 weeks of pregnancy.

I had to wait a long, emotionally fraught time for my precious boys.

There is no thought more terrifying to me than the thought of loosing them in any sense of the word.

There is no conceivable way that I would knowingly expose them to a reckless amount of risk or danger.

The greatest risk of all, as I see it, is a lack of skills and strategies required to fully function in this world.  These skills and strategies are most effectively gained through healthy and robust exposure to all the multiple facets of the world, with all it’s beauty, opportunity, and risk.

Should we let our children run wild? In the literal sense of wild? Where there is no order or restraint, with uncivilised reckless, and savage behaviours? Most certainly not. Children are in need of protection in order to survive.

Should we let our children run wild? Where children are given the opportunity to experience the world first hand, with the freedom to make (and learn from) their experiences without an adult controlling every step, word, and action, while simultaneously aware of what’s happening, and being available for support if required? Very definitely Yes!