Thursday, 20 December 2012

Conflict resolution Part 1

When I was teaching full time in early childhood centres, we spent a lot of time focusing on peaceful conflict resolution strategies.

We would interfere when tempers were rising, and encourage the children to "use your words" and to "Share" and admonish them with helpful reminders such as "Hands are tools, not weapons" and other equally useful and constructive phrases.

It's occurred to me over the last 9 years as a full time parent that those strategies are a crock of s.... uhm... baloney, as in salami... yeah, that's why I started with that s... it's a crock of salami.

When ever a situation arose in my professional capacity, I would dutifully go through the steps.
Question the combatants participants as to what happened, in a bid to construct an accurate representation of the events that transpired, identify the feelings of those caught in the conflict, encourage them to use their words next time, and facilitate a compromise that should be equitable to all.

In almost every situation, I would walk away feeling frustrated, knowing full well that in all probability the scenario would repeat again, either within five minutes, the same day, later in the week.... and equally probably, at least one of the children would be a repeat offender participant.

As a full time parent, I would repeat the same steps, with my children, and occasionally with their friends. This highlighted the futility of these steps. Unlike an Early Childhood Education Centre, where there are numerous children, and often multiple copies of certain prize items, at home there were no other children to re-direct too, and often there would not be another identical item to ensure everyone could get a go at the same time, thereby eliminating the point of conflict. Consequently my feelings of inadequacy and frustration increased manifold...

What was wrong with my kids?

What is wrong with me?

Why are they not getting it?

Why do they persist in not using their words?

Why do they automatically react with (depending on  the child)violence or lashing out, or screaming?

Then came the day when yet another altercation broke out. I was tired. I was frustrated. I was overwhelmed. I sat there thinking... "I do not know what to do! What if I do nothing?" and that's what I did...

I did nothing.

Do you know what happened?
The kids killed each other!?!
Nope.
The kids got angrier and angrier until one of them exploded!?!
Nope.
The kids belted the living heck out of each other!?!
Nope.
They shouted louder!?!
Yep.
And then, they looked towards where I was, and I steadfastly ignored them. They looked at each other. They started to work it out. T, the elder was just under 6 at the time, K 3. T offered a compromise.. not the one I would have gone for, but he determined one for himself. K, absolutely enamoured with his awesome big brother, looked a little stunned, and then accepted.. They sorted it out for themselves.

Let me say that again...

THEY sorted it out  for THEMSELVES. And not only did they sort it out themselves, the whole process from escalation to resolution and resumption of play, was at least half the time it would have taken had I gone in to "facilitate' the situation. Even more remarkable... there was no resumption or return to the initial conflict, as there usually was, when I did interfere.

I was gobsmacked.

My mind started racing, and a variety of things that I had been reading started to come together in my head. I put those things together, and created a couple of workshops for early childhood teachers, to help them understand what I had realised in that moment.

What was wrong with my kids?

Nothing. They were perfectly normal under 6 year old children, reacting to stress and impulses that are all perfectly natural for any human being.

What is wrong with me?

I had trusted the policy makers, and other professionals in my field to know what they were talking about, and failed to consider the latest findings in neuro-development, and their implication on behaviour, and self-discipline., and consequently common professional practice.

Why are they not getting it?

well to put it rather simply, the parts of the brain that are needed to over ride their base urges (neo-cortex) have not yet fully connected to the rest of their brain. They were developmentally not ready for this level of functioning.

Why do they persist in not using their words?

Well to put it rather simply, again, the parts of the brain that are needed to over ride their base urges (neo-cortex) have not yet fully connected to the rest of their brain. The two hemispheres, were certainly not yet calibrated to work together to identify feelings and then express them verbally, they were developmentally not ready for this level of functioning.

Why do they automatically react with (depending on  the child)violence or lashing out, or screaming?

well, to put it rather simply, again again, the parts of the brain needed to over ride their base urges (the Neo-Cortex) have not yet fully connected to the rest of their brain. The Amagydala and the limbic systems are in full control, and they react reflexively (amagydala) to protect through flight, fright, fight, or emotionally (limbic) and cry, yell etc. They were reacting in a perfectly healthy and developmentally appropriate fashion.


Wait... did you get the gist of that? I've just essentially said that all the strategies for peaceful conflict resolution I had been taught during my teacher training for working with children in Early Childhood are developmentally inappropriate.  I should point out, that when I did my teacher training, fMRI were a thing of science fiction... or at least science experimentation. They were certainly not available to the extent they are today (and the machines are jolly expensive and highly specialised, the waiting list for patients to get a scan is long). SO this information was not available, as it essentially was not known. The things that were known, that children learn through repetition, through role-modeling and through experience, all of which have been predominantly upheld by fMRI, were the understandings that shaped these pedagogical practices. They were meant well, and were doctrinally sound with the knowledge that was available at the time.



Sunday, 2 December 2012

Coop - Kippen Hok

I've had a lot to do over the last few weeks, I only have so much time to spend on projects for myself, and when I am low on energy, or the weather is unpleasant, or I haven't been occupying my brain on anything other than Bridge, then I write quite a bit on my blog.

I currently have 5 half completed entries, not fit for public viewing as of yet.
One is about my beloved Trust, our feline companion for over 15 years, who was euthanised due to extreme Arthritis a couple of months ago.
One is about some thoughts I have been having about developmentally appropriate behaviour management strategies.
One is about the impact of our move to Auckland on my Bridge development.
The last one is about Writing, and the challenges around encouraging my boys to write, when I barely put pen to paper myself.

However most of my time has been spent on various practical projects around the house.

I have begun to dig out some steps to facilitate accessing the grass field behind the house. It is under utilised area that gets almost all-day-sun. The Landlord tells me the soil up there is great for growing veges etc. It would also be a perfect place for the washing line. This much needed tool is currently located beneath several trees, and get no sun at all in the winter, and possibly two hours of late afternoon sun in full summer. Rendering it pretty much useless.

I have finished sewing two garments for myself, both summer dresses.

I have been researching chickens for the last year or so, and have designed and constructed a coop.
I was so busy building it, and painting it, that I clean forgot to document the process... There is simply a completed coop... well it needs a few finishing touches...

The tires are to prevent the neighbour's dog from digging under
in a bid to engage in 'playtime'
Much to my delight, on the last day of November we went and purchased occupants for the coop.
We now have chickens, well, pullets. aged between 8 and 12 weeks. One lot is 10 weeks old, the other is either 14-16 days older or younger... I was a little overwhelmed that day, and I do not remember which way it went... I only remember 10 weeks, and 14-16 age difference.


The girls in their carry cage in the van. Just arrived home.
awaiting transferal to their coop.


We arrived at the Poultry breeder at 16:30. I had a 'shopping list' of breeds I wanted to have. Somehow, when we looked at all the pullets running around in their large pens, the boys got excited and started pointing out which ones they liked the look of, and we went with that. So we now have

Blue Laced Wyandotte named Blue
Silver Laced Wyandotte named Billie
White Splash Leghorn named White Horn
New Hampshire Red named Red
Light Sussex (un-named)
Black Austrolorpe named Astro
Welsummer (un-named)
Barnevelder (un-named)

First steps in the new coop
The latter two are Dutch breeds, and I have already determined that which ever of the two shows to be the dominant one, will be called Maxima. I am tempted to go with Lizzie or Betty for the Sussex (derivatives of Elizabeth)... noticing a royal theme anyone? This will be particularly cutesy if the Welsummer becomes Maxima, 'cause than the Barnvelder can be Barney (Betty and Barney)... that's not looking likely though from what I have seen thus far of their behaviour.

Hungry girls, eating... they're all there, one is hidden underneath





Trying out the roost... a little wobbly at first, as they learn this
new skill
I am very pleased that thus far all the things that I have designed for the coop are being used as anticipated, with the exception of the nesting boxes... they are still too young to be laying.

Friday, 5 October 2012

The Importance of Being... Good

Dorothy Law Nolte wrote a poem "If a Child Lives With..." Dorothy Law Nolte was a family counsellor who worked with children and families, and had gathered some of her observations within this poem. The general premise being that the nature of the relationships a child has with the adults around them go a long way towards developing their fundamental social skills and attitudes. Since this poem was written, some 60 years ago, research has supported these observations. The New Zealand Ministry of Education's legislature and supporting documents for Early Childhood Education, such as the curriculum Te Whāriki, and the Desirable Objectives and Practices
were written to support ECE facilities to provide relationships and pratices that support the guiding principle of Early Childhood education in New Zealand for children:
to grow up as competent and confident
learners and communicators, healthy
in mind, body, and spirit, secure in
their sense of belonging and in the
knowledge that they make a valued
contribution to society.
This general approach to interacting with children was already instilled in my head and heart  before I began to study to acquire my Diploma of Teaching in Early Childhood Education, and has since been reinforced time and time again. This provided the guidelines of my parenting too. It was through my professional development that I learnt of Attachment Parenting, a philosophy that I implement in my daily practices while raising my children. My first born, T(9) is frequently complimented by other mothers to me, remarking how thoughtful, and caring and gentle he is with others his own age, and those younger than him. How polite he is with adults. How willing he is to interact with others (in small group situations).

And then there is K(6)

I do not think I will ever be able to adequately articulate my internal fears, confusion and doubt in my ability as a parent, or an ECE professional during the early years of K's life. I could not understand why a child who never experienced physical violence would as a first reaction flail violently at the slightest sign of adversity. As he became older, gaining gross motor control, his flailing became more targeted at the person(s) he was clearly upset with. I could no longer persuade myself that my child is not very aggressive.

I did have hope however. I became increasingly aware that when he was interacting with younger / smaller people, he would be as gentle as a young child who is still developing motor control, could be. He never demonstrated this explosive aggression towards younger or smaller children.

The majority of my parenting and ECE techniques work on a preventative model... so I began to forge new ground as I attempted to provide natural consequences that an 18 months old would be able to comprehend. Considering that at this age the neo-cortex, the areas that regulate behaviours, emotions, and 'primal' urges is effectively "off-line" I was pretty much setting myself, and my child up for failure.

Setting oneself up for failure is never a good idea. It leaves all those involved, feeling inadequate, unloved, and unaccepted.

Around this time, I was searching for answers for my eldest's unusual developmental sequences, particularly those around speech. It was because of my search for answers for T, that I discovered, and began my training in HANDLE®. As can sometime happen, when you look for answers in one thing, you find answers for other challenges or problems that you are dealing with. This was very much the case with HANDLE, and finding effective strategies for K.

Probably the biggest immediate impact I experienced when implementing HANDLE practices within my family, was the ability to begin to identify probable food intolerances, which in turn resulted in the elimination of wheat primarily for myself and to K(then 2).

At the end of the first day of no wheat, K went to sleep faster than he ever had before... and more tellingly he did not wake screaming, in what I now realise was agony, after 90 minutes of sleep. The following day, we had our first violence free day, despite several incidents of adversity. I was jubilant. 

The following years, the initial elimination of, and the now occasional ingestion of wheat based products for K have reduced his previously inappropriate violence to instances of extreme injustice and rage, where they are developmentally appropriate for a 6 year old boy. His early experiences have certainly left their mark, and it will take time to fully ameliorate them. There have been some significant instances that illustrate his development in these areas.

The first occurred when I was out one evening, when K was between 3 and 3 1/2 years old. I came home to have Carl inform me of a rather telling conversation he had had with K as he settling for sleep. Apparently K(then 3) had expressed a desire to always live with Carl and I, because he was afraid of being bad, and did not know how to not be bad, so he needed our help. Carl confessed to being a bit perplexed at how to respond to K and tried to reassure him.

This report had me stunned. A 3 year old being aware that his behaviours were not always desirable, and the awareness that he could not regulate those behaviours, and had formulated a reasonable solution to this problem. It also broke my heart. That this child had such concern and saw himself as bad.

The following morning I brought the subject up with K, while we were snuggling together. I explained that daddy had told me about their conversation, and then explained to him that as he is only 3 right now, the parts of the brain that help him control his impulses had not yet grown, and would not do so until he was 6 years old. I also explained that until then, we would still be telling him when things were not okay, and what to do about it, so that when those parts of the brain became connected, they would have the information they needed to be able to control himself as well as possible. He looked a little sceptical, and also relieved.

Fast forward to my now 6 year old K.

Two months ago, there was an incident where K(6) and T(9) had a disagreement. T shouted at K that he was bad, and K(6) collapsed onto the floor of the living room, sobbing inconsolably. That evening, as I drove home from Bridge, I reviewed this incident in my head, and had an epiphany, which I shared with K the following morning, again during snuggles.

T(9) and K(6) disagreement had been about some morality, and the boys often mis-communicate, in part because of T(9)'s speech impediment, in part because the boys think in completely different ways, and consequently express themselves in a manner that the other does not always fully comprehend. When T proclaimed K to be "Bad", K was distraught, as he very much wants to be "good".

This logo helped K(6) identify as
one of the Good Guys,
it is the property of Amnesty International
K(6)'s desire to be good is demonstrated by the conversation some three years prior. It is supported by his intense questioning about who is the good guy and who is the bad guy in any given situation. His intense satisfaction at receiving an Amnesty International Badge (once his dad explained who Amnesty international is, and what they do) and his proclamation:

"Now I have a badge so everyone can see that I am a good Guy"

I realised that this also explained that most often, when K collapses into a sobbing pile, it would be in a situation where he had been trying to either help or do the right thing, and his actions had been rejected, or misunderstood by the intended recipient.

During my snuggled conversation with K, I shared my thoughts and insights along these lines, and pointed out that I understood that it is very important for him to be Good, and do right, and that now that he is 6 he is beginning to be able to make the choices that lead to that. I also explained that it takes hard work and talking to get other people to understand, because they will not always think the same way as he does, or have a different idea about what the right thing is.

It was very rewarding to feel him relax into me and when he disengaged from the snuggles, he was smiling. I got the strong impression that he was pleased that I understood what he was trying to achieve, and that I had given him some important information to help in future.

So, why am I sharing all this today?

Yesterday my boys and I were at Huapai Domain, supporting their cousin A(10) who has flown up from Christchurch with the rest of her soccer team to compete in the Grade 10 National championships. My boys were not as focused in watching the games as I was, and they drifted off to the playground very close to the playing field. I was able to watch my niece, while casting the occasional eye towards the boys too.

Then I heard the screech that signals an overwhelmed and stressed T(9). He came running to me, very scared. I saw two other boys, likely around the same age as T(9), and K(6) striding determinedly towards them. While consoling T, I kept and eye on K, to see if he might need help. He seemed fine, the body language of all three boys was initially defensive / aggressive, but that eased as I watched. T eventually calmed enough that he returned to the playground.

At the conclusion of the game. My boys and I began the long walk to where the van was parked. T ran ahead, and K gave me a debrief of what had happened. He initiated the conversation:

"Babsie, T and I have a plan. When there are bullies being mean to T, I will go and bully them back if I have to. I am happy when we can talk about it first though. When the boys were bullies to T, I went and talked to them, and explained that T can't always talk when he is upset, and that was why he was screaming. I am glad I can talk and explain things, not like T. If they hadn't listened I would have had to be mean to them too. I didn't want to do that. I would have though, if they hadn't listened."

I am so grateful that I learnt about deducing probable dietary intolerances.
I am so grateful that I learnt the negative effects of consuming such foods on the developing brain and the subsequent behaviours.
I am so grateful that my child is no longer reacting with such extreme violence when faced with adversity.
I am so grateful that my youngest child is developing an acute sense of moral justice and developing healthy strategies.

I eagerly await further developments, and where this takes him.

Friday, 28 September 2012

Story Telling

As I have mentioned in an earlier blog post, neither of my boys are self-proclaimed readers. I am more and more convinced that the elder is able to read more than he is willing to accept, let alone admit, as he continues to recover from the school and the 'reading recovery' programme he was prematurely placed in.
The younger, at 6, has never endured this process, so I anticipate seeing a more natural progression with his reading. He loves stories. The stories he prefers above all are those that are made up by his dad, or by himself. He has of late begun to enjoy some of the stories by Mr Roald Dahl, and has recently begun to comprehend that Fantastic Mr Fox, and Georges Marvellous Medicine, and The Twits, are ALL written by the SAME person.
None-the-less, he still prefers to create his own. He enjoys the creative process, and the degree of control he has in what happens, when he is the story teller. When Carl tells stories, he has begun to incorporate the tool of a die roll to determine what happens in a tale. The boys will each create a possible occurrence at Carl's prompting, and which one happens, is purely random, thus eliminating any cries of favouritism.
This has also seen a progression in K(6)'s storytelling. Over the last two days, he has been dictating the following to me:

The cover of the story written by K, entitled "Babs"
Babs
Once upon a time, there was a woman called Babs, who lived in her house, with two boys and a husband. Her husband was called Carl, but her boys called Carl "Daddy".
Her boys was called T_____ and K_____. Her son K____, loved monsters and fighting. Her son T______ loved to play Minecraft.

T______ was the oldest kid. Babs and Carl was forty, but Babs was older. It was a very happy family. K____ was making his new language, that he really liked. 
T___ Babs K_____

One day, when K____ was playing Minecraft, T_____ kept asking Babs if he could have one hour and a half of computer time, but he could not even have one second. T_____ got angry and snatched the computer from K____. After T_____'s computer time, that he had snatched from K____, K____ told Carl and Babs that T_____ had snatched his computer time.

So Carl put T_____ outside for three hours, and Babs gave K____ three hours of  extra computer time. K____ was very Happy.


When T_____ came inside, T_____ kicked K____ in the butt. K____ fell over and started crying.





After K____ had been crying for a little while, Carl came to ask K____ what had happened.

K____ said to Carl that T_____ had kicked him in the butt.

So Carl told Babs. Babs put T_____ outside for three hours, and gave K____ one hour of computer time.

When T_____ came in, Carl put him in his room for one and a half hours.

While T_____ was in his room, Carl read K____ a story. It was a Guild Wars Story.

The End

K____ asleep after the Guild Wars story read by Carl.

This is also an excellent sample of K(6)'s increasing ability to put himself in another's point of view, with his story being told about himself (despite the title of the story) in the third person, and giving  bits of information that might not be known by others, that he considers of import.

I am quite impressed with myself for simply taking the dictation, in order to see where he went with his tale. I really wanted to ask leading questions, and make constructive comments about his grammar (the remarkably few times it was needed).

I was particularly curious as to why he determined that the family was a happy one... particularly in light of the following antics with the mean big brother, and the apparently punitive parents. I suppose that as long as the punished was not K(6) himself, then it is all fine. He may be developing a sense of others' point of view, he is also, still very obviously 6 years old.

EDIT: It is now 20:14. Carl is reading this story to both boys. There is much giggling and laughing from both boys, from the point where T(9) kicks K(6) in the butt...



Sunday, 23 September 2012

Fantastic

T(9) lives in a world very similar to, and yet sometimes quite removed from the one in which I live.

At one point, he was well on track to receiving a label containing the word Autism. I did not like that track, so we took him off it before he got the label. With a lot of work on our part, and co-operation from T(9), Carl and I have been able to facilitate a significant change in his neuro network. We support this with strategies that complement his learning style and needs to the best of our ability. As a result, T has grown from strength to strength.

Starting with ILT, then moving on to the superior HANDLE, and supported with Speech Language Therapy, our nervous, inarticulate toddler, prone to rocking, hand flapping and under a great deal of stress in numerous social situations, is growing into a social, competent, young lad with a mild speech impediment and an auditory processing disorder.

One of the interesting features of T's toddler hood, was his complete inability to comprehend fantasy play. One particular incident which really highlighted this to me, and has stuck with me, occurred wen we were visiting friends from our antenatal class. Their child was 6 weeks and 3 days older than T. As it was the middle of winter, and there had been days of rain, E had a pop-up tent in the living area where she had set up house. When we arrived she invited T to come out of the 'rain' and into her 'house'. T had never looked so perplexed... he was already out of the rain, and in her house. When she elaborated pointing into the lounge and declared it to be raining there, and to come into the tent which she clearly labelled as her house, to come out. T remained perplexed, and stated as clearly as he could for a child who at that time barely articulated any consonants, that "No it's raining out there (pointing outside). That's a tent (pointing to E's 'house')"

Turn the clock forward some 7 years... This same child is now immersed in a world of fantasy. His conversations are filled with commentary that I find highly suspect, and yet he is convincing enough that there are times that i wonder if perhaps he is speaking truth. I am fairly confident that the friend he made at the local playground when he went off on a solo walk three months ago, where EVERY single family member had a birth date that coincided with our family members... well let's just say the odds are more than low that such a coincidence would occur.

There are other times however when the line is not so clearly defined. There are the people that he has claimed to have met. A few days after having met the family where everyone's birth dates coincided with our own, he met another young person and their parents. Again I was a little sceptical, yet after a couple of days of him going to "visit" them, I got a phone call from him, asking if he could stay a little longer than I had said he could. The following week K and I accompanied T on an introductory visit.

Then there are those occasions when I *know* it can not be true, yet he has the ability to express himsekf so convincingly, that I find myself, ever so briefly, believing.


When T(9) came running out of his room one morning, with a mighty whoop, and looking exultantly into his cupped hands, and proclaimed excitedly "Look!!! I found this under my pillow, I put my tooth under it, and the tooth fairy came and left me this!" Showing the 20 cent coin he held so reverently in his hands.

For a brief second, I actually found myself thinking "For goodness sake, I thought the tooth fairy was pretend"

I eagerly await to see if this talent ebbs or builds into a career in writing, or acting, or evolves to some other form of creative expression.

In the meantime, I shall continue to tread lightly, and endeavour to navigate the slippery and elusive slopes that constitute my T's world as he travels betwixt and between.

I am grateful for the opportunities he provides me to share his world, as I continually invite him to mine

Friday, 3 August 2012

New Beginings - The Move

There's that scene in that movie... you know the one.. you've seen it I'm sure: Something eventful happens, and they load up their vehicle with all their stuff,a few tearful goodbyes, possibly with some dialogue to give you an insight to the events leading up to this moment which opens the movie and then they drive... and as they drive across the country, the introductory credits roll, and some catchy tune plays, as the vehicle passes various landscapes, and land marks, denoting a great distance travelled.

I suppose one of the reasons that this is a common scene is because it is a relatively common occurrence. Certainly common enough that a good number of people can relate to it. It is an idea that captures the imagination... to leave everything behind, and begin afresh in a new environment. A clean start, a fresh break...

It dawned on me recently that this scene is one out of my own recent life. Yet something that the movies don't impart upon it's audience, is the fact that often, when you are in the midst of such a move, you do no recognise that this is what you are doing.

It is August. It is almost a full year (12/8/2011) since T(Then 8) came home from a bicycle trip around the block, with a portion of his hair melted away, because a child had offered to be his friend, if he would let them burn his hair. Of course, as T has an auditory processing disorder, it took him awhile to work out what they were saying, and his non-reply, and not moving away, was probably taken as acceptance by the other child. T probably worked out what was being said at about the very exact time that this other child put their lighter to the tuft of hair protruding from T's bicycle helmet.

I am sure I do not need to fully describe my horror at this turn of events when T finally shared them with me some 30-45 minutes after his return home. I called the police. I posted on Facebook in all caps that I wanted to move, and I wanted to move now! This was on a Thursday. The very next day Carl texts me to asks how I would feel about moving to Auckland, as someone he knew there wanted to know if he would be able to come up and work with them.

Carl's Dream Job: Game Designer at Grinding Gear Games. 
On a game.

As a Game Designer.

Carl's DREAM JOB!

Salmon (Sammie) investigating the boxes 'What's all this then?'
The timing could not have been better. We did need to be practical though. The company was a start-up company, with limited finances. Auckland is the most expensive place to live in New Zealand. We were looking at increased living costs, substantial moving costs, and a decreased income. By the end of that weekend, we had crunched numbers, did a little research in regards to costs, and accommodation, and we had an idea of how much we would need to be able to get by. By Sunday afternoon, Carl had a firm job offer. Monday morning Carl handed in his 4 week notice, and then the stress really began. We had to pack, and find a place to live, and we had no way of being able to look at neighbourhoods or houses... it was simply too far away.
Trust examines the boxes... he knows what this means

I had multiple contingency plans to enact. All of them stressful. One way or another, we were going to make this work. This is Carl's DREAM JOB!. It would be unforgivable to not give it our all. So many things had happened in the preceding years that became profound advantages and made the decision to do this so much easier to enact. The two that stood out most were: We had already sold the house... no worries about selling at a time when the market was in a slump. We had already started Homeschooling, no need to worry about moving to an area with a good school... the boys were already in an excellent educational modality, and it would be with us no matter where we went.

Starting to pack the container that will be freighted to Auckland by Rail
Somehow it all came together. Carl was able to fly to Auckland for an overnight visit to view some rental properties the following weekend, and by the end of that weekend, we had established a place to rent. Two weeks to go before he started his new job! Now we could get on with confirming packers and movers and giving tenancy notice to our current landlords. Things were moving along nicely. The week holiday that had been booked and paid for months ago, where Carl took the boys to stay with his parents for a week, coincided with the week prior to Carl's starting his new job. So the boys all disappeared, and I could pack up the house, and get everything sorted, without needing to parent and teach.

Goodbye Neighbours
Ka Kite e Hoa
The boys returned late Friday night. Which coincided with the opening of the Rugby World Cup in Auckland.... and more than one person wondered if this wasn't an elaborate ruse on Carl's part to get to see some Rugby .. HA! Like Carl was going to be manipulating *me* to watch Rugby?!? That's *my* (temporarily on hold) obsession! Saturday morning we put the things we would be needing over the next few days into the van and car. T and I and the cats travelled in the van, and K and Carl and the cleaning supplies travelled in the car.
Cats loaded into van, awaiting departure

Cats enjoying their view. In Waikanae
We stopped for a visit and Lunch at the Rushworths. We paused for Petrol in Waiouru. We travelled until we reached Mototere Bay, on the shores of Lake Taupo, where we stayed overnight. Then we resumed our travels, through to Hamilton, and on to Auckland.

We arrived in Auckland on September the 11th 2012. As we drove along SH20, I marvelled at the wind and rain, and a day later I learnt that at the time there was a Tornado ripping through Avondale, not too terribly far from where we were driving - that explained the weather we witnessed.

At the Rushworth's in Awahuri
Eventually we got to Titirangi. As we had to go almost exactly past, I decided to make a very light detour to drive past Carl's new work place, and show T where it was. And it turned out we got to meet Carl's new boss, who was there readying a work station for Carl. Less than 10 minutes later I was at an intersection. Confounded. Laingholm Dr and Laingholm Rd ?!?! shit! Which one was it? I think Drive... what kind of an idiot names two intersecting thoroughfares with virtually identical names?? Well about 6 months...yes six months... later, I drove past that intersection for the umpteenth time, and suddenly realised the intersection was Laingholm Dr and Landing Rd... It dawned on me then just how incredibly tired and stressed I was at the time, and how jolly lucky we were not to have had an accident on that long drive in atrocious weather on unfamiliar roads.

Our new home, as viewed from half way down the driveway
The speed with which this change occurred in our lives was blinding. Within the space of 4 1/2 weeks, we had been offered an opportunity, found a place to live, gave notice to employers and landlords, sold off a substantial part of Carl's Board game collection, and our books, and some toys, cleaned out the garage that had been flooded some with the unprecedented snow fall, packed up an entire household and moved to a completely new town. There are a number of people who I did not get the chance to farewell. I regret that.

In the months since our arrival, we have explored a number of the local beaches, shopping complexes, and home school activities as well as the Auckland Zoo, The Museum of Transport and Technology. (MOTAT) With our most recent Homeschooling resources grant, we purchased annual passes to both these. We have been to the Zoo twice this year and MOTAT 4 times in the last 2 months.

'Camping' in our new home until the container with our furniture arrives
A little thing like the cold weather wasn't going to stop K from trying out the pool
The neighbourhood in which we now live is so very different from where we were in Lower Hutt. We had been living in a state housing area, with many people unemployed, or very low income. Although we were lucky to have trees on our street and within the property we were renting, there were many bare streets, and bare front yards. Mostly buildings and concrete. Our home was lovely, but the neighbourhood was not the creme-de-la-creme. Now we live in the middle of a rain forest. there are barely any fences, there are so many trees we can barely see our neighbours. The local beach is a short stroll along a track through rain forest. We have a small stream running across the property. We have a swimming pool. We see Karearea (Native falcon), kereru (Native wood Pigeon), Tui (native Parson's bird), Kotare (native Kingfisher), Piwakawaka (native fantail), Tauhoe (native Silver eye / wax-eye) and others flitting around in the air. we hear Makomako (bell bird), Ruru, aka Morepork (Native owl). We have Nikau, Pohutakawa, Rimu, Kauri, Totara, al native trees, growing in our 'garden'. The majority of the people who live out here do so because they want to live closer to nature. As a result, one of the local 'dairies' stocks a great range of organic and gluten free products. The Steiner national headquarters are just off the top of the road upon which we live. A number of our local community attend the Steiner school. Our immediate neighbours were actively campaigning for the Green party prior to last years elections. They were delighted to learn we home school. We have found a niche of people who if not exactly in sync with us, walk enough off the beaten path to honour and respect others who walk different paths. there is a sense of solidarity in that.
Looking down onto the pool, and bottom half of the driveway from the lounge window

The view out of our window takes my breath away. For the first time in many a year, I enjoy sitting by the window and looking out. Even when it's raining. It was so dreary watching the rain in the midst of suburbia. Watching the rain in a rain forest is such a peaceful and soul enriching experience.

Carl loves his job.

We are developing closer relationships with people here. The biggest 'gap' I feel is in Bridge... and that is another post's worth of story.


Friday, 20 July 2012

Family, Death and Dying

The last few weeks have been *interesting* in the way of the Chinese curse "May you live in Interesting times".
The end of May was eagerly anticipated as my eldest would change from T(8) to T(9). He had stipulated that he wished to go out for dinner as his celebration, with a special guest. He had done the same the preceding year, and clearly loved it.
The day prior to T(8)'s birthday we received a call from my Mother-In-Law to say that her father, my husband's Grandfather, and my boys' Great Grandfather, had passed away that morning. This phone call had been anticipated for some 6 years, that he finally died peacefully, and while asleep was a great blessing.

The funeral was scheduled in Christchurch for the end of the week

I started to write this Blog entry shortly after our return from the funeral. While in the process, I received an e-mail containing the news of my mother's diagnosis of Pompe Disease. That pre-occupied my thoughts for some time. It is only after having posted a blog about that, earlier today, that I feel 'free' to complete this.
.K(6) had not been to a funeral before. T(9) and Carl had been to the funeral of (Great) Grandma 6 1/2 years previously, and I had been to 2 funeral previously, and those were both in 1989. Having been heavily and ungainly pregnant with K(6) when Great Grandma passed, I had not been to a family funeral, and was unsure of what to expect, I was well aware that every family has different customs and rituals, and I did not know how to answer some questions in the time leading up to the funeral.

K(6) wanted to know if we'd be able to see Great Grandad lying in the box. T(still8 but only just) replied that great grandma had a big glass window on her coffin (he was 2 1/2 at the time, so clearly this had made an impression). I rang my Mother in Law, and asked, and because K(6) and a couple of other family members wished to view Great Grandad, this was organised prior to the ceremony.


K(6) also wanted to take a photo of Great Grandad. I felt very uncomfortable with this, however I understood that he was interested, and that this was something he wanted. I did not however want to put my own thoughts and discomfort onto him, so I explained that I did not know how grandma, and the rest of the family would feel about this, and that he would need to ask. K(6) intensely dislikes asking people things, so I genuinely thought that would put an end to it. Not so. He went and asked.. Grandma said that would be fine. (!) K(6) took a couple of photos.

Baby Carl, his beloved Grandad, and big brother Rene


During this time, more family members arrived.

Great Grandad and Great Grandma had four children, and each of those four children (grandma and her siblings) married and had at least 3 children themselves, and almost all of those children (my husband, his siblings and his cousins) have married, and had on average 2 children themselves, and one of those has had 2 children, ,making Great Grandad, a Great Great Grandad... Then of course there were great granddad's nieces and nephews, great nieces and nephews...

K(6) was a little overwhelmed to learn that just about every person attending the funeral was a relative of his. When I told him, I could see him scanning the room, and his eyes getting slightly bigger as he assessed the number of people there. His Uncle Rene, Aunt Sandra, and Dad's Cousin Tim and his family were not there... Europe was a little too distant to travel from at such short notice.

T(9) spent the entire ceremony sitting next to his cousin A(10) and his dad. K(6) has trouble sitting still at the best of times, so I stayed with him for most of the ceremony in the creche that is adjoined to the church hall, with a large window to view into the main hall, and a sound system wired with a speaker in the room. As a result I got to see most of the ceremony, and hear most of it too. K(6) seemed absolutely absorbed in the toys that were there, however I kept up a commentary of who was doing what and who was coming to speak or sing. Every time something that K(6) considered interesting or important, he would come and stand at the window and look, then resume playing.

When Aunt Erana played the piano and sang the song she had written for her grandfather, K(6) stood and watched for all of it, and he heard the little catch in her throat as she sang the last couple of words. When she finished and got off the podium, he told me "I need to give Aunty Erana a hug" and off he ran to do so, and then came back to the room.He also went out to draw on Great Granddad's coffin, when everyone there was invited. All the great grandchildren that were present, several grandchildren and some other adults went up to write their messages of love to this beloved man who was for so long an integral part, the very core, of this family.


Grandad and Rene, and Grandma holding Baby Carl,   outside their house of the time
During the service, I learnt some things about the family I married into. My favourite 'surprises' were the fact that Carl's middle name Steven came from his Grandfather's middle name Stevens, which in turn was his mother's maiden name. I also learnt that we had inadvertently done a similar thing with K(6)'s first middle name. K's second middle name is Rene, in honour of his Uncle (Carl's brother) and his Aunt (my sister Renee) regardless of gender, that was to be the middle name, just the spelling would have differed had he been a girl. Andreas is the Italian variant of Andrew... and Andrews was the maiden name of Great Grandma, the self same Great Grandma who passed away while I was heavily pregnant with K. So both our boys have two 'family' middle names. T having the Russian variant of Nicholas, which his paternal grandfather has in the dutch variant as a middle name, and Paul, which was my stepfather's middle name.

After the service their was a communal afternoon tea. An opportunity to mix and mingle, share memories, and catch up with various family members who we may not have seen for some time. I personally had been eagerly anticipating this. I have almost no contact with my family, on account of all the worthwhile ones being in Europe. This makes it a little difficult to pop in for a cuppa and a catch up. One of Carl's cousins and wife, also home school, and Unschool, and as they had very recently agreed to becoming the legal guardians of, and raising our boys should we have an unexpected and untimely demise, I was looking forward to seeing them, and ensuring that their boys and our had the opportunity to mingle. In addition, several of Carl's cousins had married and had children in the last 15 years since we had left Christchurch, and I was looking forward to meeting these additional additions to the extended family. Carl and T had been able to do so 6 years prior, to a certain extent, but K and I had not had that opportunity. There were so many people I wanted to talk to, however K was needing me for a fair amount of that time to be his parent, consequently I actually had little opportunity to mix and mingle. I certainly did not get to meet everyone I had wanted to.

One comment that was made several times, was the realisation that there would now be few opportunities for the extended family to meet all together like this, and how sad that is. I am contemplating putting some feelers out for a family reunion... maybe in three years time, when Rene and Sandra are due their "Christmas at Home" trip to New Zealand from Germany. Delightfully, I have learnt that I was not the only one to think about addressing this potential lack. My Father-in-Law rang and commented that he and his brother-in-law had noted how much all the cousins were enjoying interacting. So this Boxing day there is a plan to have a family picnic. Apparently this used to be part of the family culture, but had faded as the cousins became teens, and dispersed throughout the country, and then the world. I am looking forward to that! It would also be a good place and time to see if others are interested in 'saving the date' in three years for a full family reunion of Bill and Florence's off spring.

Florence Wright and Florence Wright

T at 10 1/2 months with his great Grand Parents


Skeletons, Black Sheep, and Trauma

Every family has it's share of dark secrets, trauma, and black sheep.

Sometimes those traumas and black sheep are highly subjective, dependant on the time and place in which they occur. Medical knowledge, cultural practices, societal expectations, and environment all play a tremendous role on what we as individuals perceive as being shameful or traumatic. Take for example a male growing up with the need to dress as a female. Traditional Samoan culture has embraced this phenomenon and has a place in their culture for these people. A male with the same need growing up in the Southern states of the USA I can not see as being quite so accepted. The repercussion of these differing attitudes to an integral part of the self are manifold.

Some skeletons are open secrets, widely known within the family's adult membership, and discussed, yet still causing some discomfort, regret, and sorrow, and not openly shared outside the family. Such as the atheist within a family that hold a deep faith, or the person who finds faith despite their atheist upbringing.

Trauma can be a deeply personal experience, or experienced as a family group. Trauma resulting from an individual experience or inflicted by an outside influence. Loosing a baby during gestation, is an intensely personal trauma, that in our culture has a tremendous impact on the expectant parents, but seems to have little impact on the wider family and certainly none to the wider community. Loosing a family member to an individual who chooses to fire indiscriminately into a crowd in a movie theatre, is a traumatic experience that every member of the family will feel, and shared by the wider local community, the nation, indeed by the world at large.

My family is no exception when it comes to Skeletons, Black Sheep and Trauma.

Growing up, I experienced my own share of trauma. On a regular and deeply personal basis.
Alcoholism
Drug Abuse
Emotional Neglect
Physical Abuse
Sexual Abuse
I resolved to rise above this, and ensure that when the time came for me to have children, I would make every effort to ensure that these traumas were not perpetrated upon them. Thus far I have been able to uphold this. With every passing year, my boys grow stronger and more confident in and of themselves. With every passing year, I know I can relax a little more, confident that as solid a foundation as possible has been laid, which will in turn enable them to turn away from abusive behaviours.

These skeletons are social diseases. In a sense they are avoidable. With conscientious parenting, I am able to undo many of the negative affects of my childhood within myself.  Making the difficult, yet very necessary decision to cease all contact with my parents, is thwarting the build up of similar negative consequences for my children.

Some traumas are not so easy to evade. When my husband and I were discussing whether to have a family or not, an essential consideration for me, was acknowledging that two of my cousins had an undetermined neurological condition that resulted in pervasive developmental disorders. Initially it was determined that my cousins would likely not live more than 10 years. The younger of the two nearly doubled that, and the elder tripled it. I am grateful that when I visited the Netherlands in my early twenties, I was able to visit them both in their full-time residential care unit. Although undetermined, it was obviously a recessive genetic condition. There were no known genetic markers, no ability to pre-determine whether I too was a carrier, or if Carl would be, because the condition was undetermined. We acknowledged the odds were very slim, however something to be taken into account. We decided that the risks were minimal, and worthwhile. Should we have a baby that exhibited similar symptoms, we would deal with it as best we could. We may have had to move to the Netherlands, where the health care available exceeds that which is available here in New Zealand, however we would deal with it. We had numerous miscarriages. One of my coping messages to myself was that perhaps these babies I lost were afflicted, and my body rejected them as a preventative measure.

Our children are now 6 and 9 years of age. All signs indicate that they are free of this condition.

Some traumas and skeletons are so deeply buried, that no-one knows they are there. No-one suspects the existence. Then some random event brings it to the fore.

Approximately 8 years ago my mother fell off a ladder. Since that time she experienced chronic muscle aches. She began to walk in an odd manner, especially up inclines, or when carrying things. Getting in and out chairs became an intensely laborious process. For some time it was assumed that this was a result of some nerve damage or freak occurrence from the fall. However when it became clear that this was not improving, and in fact becoming more prominent, various tests were undertaken in an effort to determine what was causing this.

Multiple theories were explored and tested for. In mid June I learnt that a diagnosis was finally reached. Mum has late onset Pompe Disease. A rare, recessive genetic degenerative Neuro-Muscular condition. Our entire extended family needs to be tested. My maternal grandparents were unwitting carriers. Mum, and every one of her siblings have a 25% chance of getting this, a 25% chance of being completely free of it, and a 50% chance of being a carrier. Each of their children's probabilities will be determined by which category they fall under. Obviously, with Mum having it, my odds are a little more clear...

I made an appointment with my new GP. Not exactly the type of appointment one wants to make for a first visit with a new GP, but not making an appointment was not a consideration. I recently moved to a new district that falls under the Auckland District Health Board. ADHB having had a rather large number of patients that were not eligible getting public funded treatment, have asked me to prove that i am eligible. While I entirely respect that this is a necessary process, I would rather frankly not have to go through this right now. I just want to get an appointment at the genetics clinic, so I can be tested to see if I am a carrier. There is also a possibility that as this was silent for unknown generations within mum's family... that this is also the case in dad's family. Sure, the odds are pretty low, but not impossible. It is equally possible that if I am carrier, purely from mum, that this may be riding along on the back of Carl's genetics.... again, fairly unlikely, but not impossible.

This has been proven rather dramatically in the last week, by a second Pompe Disease diagnosis within the family.This time Infant onset Pompe Disease.

Just typing it has me in tears.

I've been crying off and on over the last two and half days, since learning this. Within the space of 2 months, two family members have been diagnosed with this previously unknown (to me at any rate) condition.

Over the last two and a half days I have been wishing that my children were not home schooled, simply because their constant presence has meant that I have not had the time and the privacy to be able to fully release my grief.
Grief for my mother.
Grief for my cousin.
Grief for my cousin's spouse.
Grief for my cousin's baby.
Grief for my cousins' siblings.
Grief for my Aunt and Uncle, the grandparents of the baby.
Grief for my Aunts and Uncle, the siblings of my mother.
Grief for all my Family.

I have always been better able to process my thoughts and feelings by talking them out with someone. With my boys ever present, there is no opportunity to discuss this with the one person I most wish to discuss this with, my husband. We have had a couple of opportunities to briefly chat on the subject, when the boys have been occupied with a movie. I think he knows that I am deeply affected by this. He has always had a more objective view on such things... I suppose most men do (?!?). This is the best avenue available to me at present to attempt to express some of the thoughts and feelings I am experiencing.

Thoughts, questions, feelings, ideas, and other things that are foremost on my mind, in no particular order:

??? Am I a carrier, and might I too have adult onset Pompe... it's only a low possibility, but not an impossibility

?!? Am I a carrier, and could Carl be one too.. again, a low possibility, but not an impossibility... and...

?!? What would that mean for the boys... particularly the one whose legs get so tired so quickly when walking... (which is certainly the main reason I am worrying about this as much as I am)

??? How will mum manage on her own, when she will need to be in a wheel chair and on a respirator / life support machine.

?!? What does this mean for my current no-contact relationship with my mother

!?!  I had always planned that when they were older and more sure of themselves, my boys would get to know their maternal Grandmother... Now there is a sudden undetermined time limit (which I realise there always is, it's just been dramatically highlighted by the current situation)... do I have the right to deny the boys the opportunity to know their maternal grandmother?... and...

?!? Am I strong enough in myself to be able to withstand the inevitable emotional and psychological stress in the event of re-establishing contact with my mother.


These thoughts enter my head at unexpected times. I worry, I grieve. All internally. I can not express these immensely scary thoughts and feelings to my boys. I have a responsibility as a parent to ensure my children are exposed to the full spectrum of life at developmentally appropriate times. At 6 and 9, and with so many unknowns, this is not the developmentally appropriate time to expose them to this information.

A little over a year ago, a friend who I have known for a very long time now, confessed to me that, now as an adult, she marvelled  at my ability as a teenager to keep my inner turmoil and trauma to myself, and not share it with her or her younger brother, both several years my junior. She commented that it gave her a valuable insight to the importance of protecting children from horrible things that were completely beyond their power to fully comprehend, or be able to do anything about. Essentially preserving their innocence until such a time as they had the emotional and cognitive abilities to be able to deal with such things. I value that she shared this with me so many years later. I never had the luxury of being protected from knowledge that I was developmentally immature for. Knowing why she sees it as important and valuable, empowers me to not share this with my boys prematurely.

First, I need to be tested. If I am a carrier... my children will also need to be tested.

That will be soon enough to expose them.


August 2nd 2012.
A few days after this post, some of the high emotion had drained, and my ability to think more logically started to re-surface. My understanding of genetics, and particularly recessive genes is at high school science level. I don't believe that changes the reality that as my mother has Adult onset Pompe disease, she has both recessive genes. Therefore she has ONLY pompe disease genes to pass on to her chldren. Therefore my sister and I MUST be carriers, and my children consequently have a 50% chance of being carriers themselves.

I still have not heard from the genetics clinic as to when I have an appointment, however The ADHB have informed me that my elligibility srtatus has been updated. Note they say updated, but not what status it has been updated to. It ought to be Status: Elligible...

Waiting PAtiently is a trait that needs development, I suppose I should be grateful that I am getting another opportunity to refine this?



Wednesday, 11 July 2012

Time... keeps on slipping... into the Future

I frequently joke about how parenting is a 25/8 occupation. Not everyone comprehends my meaning with that.

So lemme 'splain. (must be spoken in Mandy Patinkin's Spanish accent for full effect)

A day is 24 hours long. A week is 7 days long. Many things are described as being 24/7. As in requiring time and attention for 24 hours a day, 7 days a week. When I say parenting is a 25/8 job, I mean there never appear to be enough hours in the day to do everything I would like, or even feel I need to get done, and likewise there are never enough days in the week for same.

This is pretty apparent when it comes to things like maintaining a blog. My last post, 6 weeks ago, outlined that having been occupied with sewing over the preceding weeks, I had not had time to blog. Since then, I have had my first born's 9th birthday, a family funeral, first born's first solo visit to his grandparents, with accompanying first solo flight as an unaccompanied Minor with Air New Zealand. I've had a weekend away for just me alone, where I slept all night, most of the day, and another complete night, with intervening soaks in a hot mineral pool, continued to facilitate and extend the boys learning, had two trips to MoTaT, and one to the Auckland Zoo, and worked on completing my HANDLE re-certification paperwork. And the icing on the cake has been learning that I have to get tested for Pompe Disease.

The last month and a half have certainly been full of living, and learning, and loving, and we've even found occasion to enjoy the occasional laugh.

Today I thought I would re-visit blogging, but as I'm still sorting out a lot of feelings regarding recent family events, I'm limiting to sharing a list of podcasts, blogs and articles that constitute some of my professional reading for my HANDLE re-certification.

While all of these links are of interest to me... not all of them fit well with the HANDLE paradigm. A few complement HANDLE, and some are there purely for my own interest / agenda, particularly regarding Attachment Theory / Parenting. The comments that I have included are purely my own, and bear no reflection on the thoughts of HANDLE or of the actual contents or meaning of the content of the links to which I am commenting on. They are really there for personal reference, and to provide those of you who may be interested into a little more insight to the inner workings of the sometimes dark and dank passages that make up the inner working of my mind.

I hope you find some things of interest or use to you... and if you are a facebook friend, or in my Google+ circles, you've probably seen many of these already...

 
Interesting thoughts and illumination on the inter-dependant relationship of the gut and the brain. Importance of cooking. Not sure I agree with the idea of further changing the foods through cooking to send stronger signals to the brain, when we can train the brain to listen to the messages already being sent... parents could encourage demand feeding and listening to their infants / young children when they do not want to eat, rather than forcing them, and consequently training them to ignore their gut's signals...

Movement chauvinist. Brains purpose is to regulate movement... fits nicely with HANDLE theory that movement dictates brain connections, as according to this man, that is what the brain is for.

second half interesting. Talking about how through specific trsaining one can overcome learning challenges (which HANDLE already knows of course, still nice to see others saying the same thing)

Insight to how it is to have a mental illness, and how others' views of that illness can be very detrimental and even abusive and disrespectful (again HANDLE already knows this, nice to have it affirmed and articulated by someone who has lived it)

Thought provoking. Using “Crazy” for positive, and how ones attitude to “crazy” affects the “crazy”

What is consciousness... in a sense this is similar to Isaac Newtons early work on the brain, where he was looking for proof of god / the spirit within the brain... now this gentleman appears to be looking for a definition or 'proof' of consciousness

Why we need to build a framework for defining the brain, and some ideas on what that framework should constitute, according to Jeff Hawkins.

Ken Robinson... I can not hear his talks enough times. I love that HANDLE is an 'agricultural model' and not a 'manufacturing model'. I am doing my best to provide an agricultural model of education for my boys too... and I walk ever so softly over their dreams (and my husbands too, which is why we are in Auckland so he can pursue his dream job)

I especially love the story of the fidgeting girl, who the psychiatrist diagnosed as a dancer. Raises interesting ethical questions... do we have the right to facilitate change in the brains of those people we see? Are we depriving them of the possibility of their natural potential? Why must the individual with the behaviours / habits that we find uncomfortable change... perhaps the impetus should lie with the person who has the problem with the behaviour, to change their perception of that behaviour / habit?

More Ken Robinson and education models and changing them effectively for a positive educational experience that will be of benefit for the learners, and thus of benefit to society.

why we should let children engage in and experience danger :)
T(9) prefers the real life experience of this, in playing with fire, using his bow and arrows, eeling spear, fishing, taking things apart, and in play. K(6) prefers to engage in danger through fantasy, such fighting fantasy games, movies, weaponry (swords, guns, axes, shields armour), and play.

way too many real brain images.... bleurch! However just listening was interesting. Essentially every ones brain structures appear to be very similar. Note, similar, is not same! Take this into account with what jeff hawkins was saying about the brain essentially using the brain to evaluate patterns and use this to predict, and this could well account for some very different results from essentially similar structures...

didn't understand all of this. However it was an interesting theory that in order to understand something, taking a smaller piece and re-creating it, can lead to greater overall understanding. I think there is a danger in this however, that you may become so fixated on the isolated focus that you forget to take it into context, which we see happening in modern medicine approach of the specialists...


Fascinating example of children being able to learn effectively without adult input, interference, instruction... essentially their only impetus was curiosity

Interesting closing Q&A. Would seem to indicate an advocation for attachment parenting practises, which are endorsed by the likes of Dr Sears, Dr McKenna, Dr Ainsworth and many others. I firmly believe that my attachment parenting, and not leaving them on the ground, and carrying them with me everywhere, ensured that they had a strong social sense. Had I not, and left them there, ignoring their obvious cries of distress, they would have become a lot more detached from me and the social world around them, and consequently have stronger Autistic dispositions than they do. Not to mention the detrimental affects that leaving them to cry would have had on their overall neuro-development, as they would have been under intense stress.


Interesting view of introvertism. Didn't know about the increased circulation to the brain... would explain why I find skull tapping so uncomfortable, and why not having a coffee in the morning (which has shown to restrict circulation to the brain) often leads to migraines for me, and that my continual migraine actually receded once I started to drink coffee in my 30s.

Ahh, this brings up lots of self-reflective misery... the joys of over-thinking ;)

Fascinating, and also goes some way to explaining why Carl seems comparatively unaffected by my numerous miscarriages...even years later I get very emotional and weepy at certain times of the year, particularly round the anniversary of my 16week pregnancy miscarriage.

And poor Infant K would be inconsolable, and get even angrier if I reached out a hand to him, but not take him out, whenever he was stuck in the car seat, and we couldn't stop because we were on the motorway, or needed to be somewhere in time... Certainly explains some of his neuro-behaviours

Affirmation for my decisions... yay

Self control (self-regulation) more important than academics in predicting future success.

so naturally need some tips on how to go about promoting self control

To play one does not need toys, and play is the essential element for learning, growth and development

How many more children would be free of all these 'distrubing behaviours” if they were free of the restrictive school environment? Are we really doing them a service by helping them to stop fidgeting or 'distracting' the class? Would it not be more beneficial to spend those energies changing the teacher(societal) practices / expectations, or even the education system in general??

Interesting read. Affirms my choice to attachment parent. Essentially supports mirror-neuron / learning through observation. Children are more likely to acquire skills and habits they witness and/experience regularly in their parents and adults around them.

Discussion on methods of teaching empathy, and the factors that may impact the efficacy of those techniques

“I'm bored” an expression that renders fear in some parents... here's an excellent article / blog entry as to why this is a good thing, and why boredom should happen. Also enforces my own response to the cry... I offer a few ideas, and then leave the boy to it... regardless of whether he choose anything. Inevitably within 10 minutes, he's found something to occupy himself.

excellent reminder … also brought tears to my eyes when I read the paragraph about the implications of an unkindly mother's voice... boy can I empathise with that.

Naps can facilitate learning and retention in most, and rests or quiet time is better for some. Effectively clearing the short-term memory, and transferring to the long term memory.

I read to the end, thinking Yep. Yep. Yep... and then spotted the reference being “What's Going On in There” a recommended reading book for HANDLE, and one that is sitting on my shelf (half completed... my reading of it that is, not the writing of it) No wonder the blog sparked so many “Yeps”

Excellent point here about fun being subjective. If we are to engage clients, students, anyone, then we must be aware of people's individual motivators (fun)...

Affirming what I am currently doing. Nothing ramps up the internal and external pressure more for any educator than a child who is not yet reading. Having a set of strategies in place that support a child's emerging skills and interests in reading and writing can only be good. Respecting an individuals own pace along the path is essential for stress free success (for the learner... adult just has to cope... after all they've got the theoretically engaged neo-cortex)

An answer against the traditional education model of school to college to job. This no longer works as it did 30 or 40 years ago, and to slavishly adhere to it because it used to work is ludicrous. Interesting ideas, many of great potential benefit to non-neuro-typical learners.

Helping with meaningful tasks around the house can also be a way to promote a range of movements that benefit the development of neuro-connections, a few adjustments and you have a way of maximising the activity's efficacy across a wide range of development...

Like the author, the strong links between music and math not being known seem odd to me. Interesting read and ideas. Clearly using some local jargon... I assume 'STEM' is used in the USA. Would even go so far as to assume it stands for Science Technology English Mathematics...

This supports the assertions made by Ami Klin in the TED Cast regarding the ability to identify Autism in infancy

of course as HANDLErs already know there is great power in music for neuro-development, particularly in language, as music utilises and strengthens Inter hemispheric integration which also supports communication and expression.

here's an excellent argument for late starts at school or for us, homeschooling. Having an early bird and a night owl, I see what the article describes every day :)

fortunately, my early bird is not THIS early. Interesting theories here, disappointed that there is no mention of the fact that for centuries, the natural sleep rhythm of people was to sleep four hours, wake for an hour or three engaged in reflective / contemplative activities and then sleep another four hours or so. This changed only with the discovery of and application of electrical lighting. It would be interesting to see what happens to these people's sleep patterns and rhythms if they were to be introduced to this traditional (and thus biological need) sleep rhythm.