Holiday to a deserted island

I've decided. I'm taking a holiday to a deserted island. On this island I will meditate, read books, get to know my husband and kid better and just take a break from all the bullshit. So yeah, husband and kid, not truly a deserted island, and of course, I may see friends and neighbors and such, but the idea is I am staying off Facebook and Twitter for the month of July, and starting a little early, today.

This will be a challenge. Eschewing Facebook, I won't be able to post about my many adventures, how I am taking my kid to see Brave tomorrow, how we're going to the beach, how we're going to see fireworks and it will be my kid's first time. But, I also won't get in frustrating discussions about breastfeeding vs formula, the Affordable Care Act, or having to scroll and scroll and scroll through countless inane pictures of cats and ugly babies saying trite things with poor grammar. I'll miss others' posts about timely news items, the awful state of the Supreme Court, banking systems all over the world, corrupt churches and child molesters. Since I get a lot of tips on news items from my Twitter feed, I'm staying off there, too.

I worry about not being informed, but this is only for a month (for starters) and it's summer. I'm supposed to be sipping cold drinks, vegging out poolside and enjoying long, lazy days with my family, right? Right?

I will, of course, still have to work for my clients. Gotta pay to keep the AC running, after all. But, this is a much-needed break to heal my hamster wheel brain and cleanse my sullied heart. I feel tainted by my angry, contentious thoughts when arguing points with friends, even if we keep it civil (some can't even do that). I feel like a hypocrite reading Pema Chödrön and the Dalai Lama and then pounding out points meant to take someone else's view down.

Often I listen with half an ear to a story my husband is telling me about his day or something he read or heard, while I read the latest "mommy wars" article, or learn of yet another non-fiction book I must read, or form my latest counter argument in some online debate. The other day while running our local trail, I saw a couple in their 60s strolling and it hit me—someday it's going to be just me and him again and so I better keep in touch with him. We share a physical space, responsibilities, bills, sex, but honestly, my consciousness is more often keyed into to drivel on the internet. How ridiculous is that? My focus should definitely be on my life partner who I am supposed to be in love with!

And, of course, I won't even start on how I need to pay more attention to my child because that is so obvious.

So, if you'll excuse me, my plane is now boarding!

How much do older kids need a hands-on mom?

My last post talked about how other cultures relate to their kids, as described in the recently-published book, How Eskimos Keep Their Babies Warm—And Other Adventures in Parenting. One of the things that struck me was how moms in many cultures get more "hands off" as kids get older—sometimes as young as toddlers. I should mention that there's a chapter, too, on the academic success of Asians, wherein the parenting could not really be described at all as "hands off," and that's an interesting facet to the discussion of parenting older kids. But first, I want to explore the hands off, free-range thing a bit.

Via a tweet from Dan Savage, I came across this post from Susie Bright's journal—Teenagers Can't Seem to Have ANYTHING At All - The Big Lie Behind the Mommy Wars—in response to the unfortunately titled Atlantic article, Why Women Can't Have it All. (I say "unfortunate," because to me it's not about women "having it all" it's about the importance of society supporting mothers being in real leadership roles in government and business to ensure balance.)

I remembered Susie Bright's name from some sex books my husband had and was intrigued.

In her post, Bright makes some really interesting points about Anne-Marie Slaughter's problems described in her Atlantic piece—namely her "troubled" teenage son—and suggests that more attention within the confining paradigm of the traditional parent-child-school relationship is just what the young man does not need.

"I hope you and your husband aren't going to wear him down, do endless hours of useless homework with him every night, medicate him, diagnose him with god-knows-what. If you follow that path, you will end up with an adult child who wants nothing to do with you, who hides everything that's important to him." Bright warns Slaughter, continuing on about her own experience as a homeschooler/unschooler.

She advises, "By the time you have teenagers, here's what you need to be doing:

• Putting tools in their hands
• Getting them access to the things they want to know and pursue
• Breaking down the barriers they experience as disenfranchised youth
• Encouraging intellectual and physical adventures they take the lead on
• Being there for them while they break a few dishes getting it right"

And all that sounds really good to me, the only problem is it's not entirely clear whether Slaughter could really do all these things and keep her high-powered career or not. Bright's idea that teens need to fly free is a cool one, but the free flying sounds like it, too, needs a bit of orchestration—just how much orchestration is the balancing act that would determine whether Slaughter's choice is to be so easily poo pooed as doting mothering.

Indeed, Bright leaves unanswered (as of right now) a reader's question: "I'm just wondering how an un-schooler can have a job let alone a career? Why you assume that less well off people don't feel being there for there kid is a worthwhile aspiration? I certainly aspire to maintain a good, close relationship with my child and no, not coddling, just a real genuine knowing of each other, something which requires time together. Getting those barriers you speak of out of the way often entails dollars, and as a poor, working, single mother who has no choice but to send my kid to the stupid factory the options are slim. Yes, my kid's school sucks, but I don't see a way out of the situation that doesn't involve more money or time than I have."

Of course, Bright was talking to Slaughter, to whom she says "Your family has a million bucks, literally, and could make that happen: get the barriers out of the way."

But, what about the rest of us? Is being a mom to an older kid a "full time job" or not? I am going to say it just can't be. I mean, my whole plan was that I was going to do this intensive infant/early childhood mothering and let gradually let the child fly, so I can't see myself spending all my time orchestrating learning experiences for my kids for the next 13 years. (Maybe that's not what unschoolers do, I'd have to read more on them.)

And, what about people who live in places that actually have good schools (which, right now, I feel like we are)?

Still, after reading about cultures in which seven-year-olds are caring for babies, ten-year-olds can fish as well as adult men, nine-year-olds are doing beautiful embroideries and such, I am inspired to think that, given just a bit of guidance, kids can do so much more on their own than most American parents let them.

Lots of questions here.

On one hand, I like to think that the more you pour into your kids the earlier in terms of molding them and creating an attachment to your family and the sense of a family tribe, the less difficulty you'll have when they are older—the more you will be able to let them go free, with the knowledge that you've imprinted them with what they need. But, is that being naiive? As the mother of a now five-year-old, I just don't have the experience to know, so I have to wait and see.

Making parenting more 'adventurous'

Want to keep your kid up pall night? Have the neighborhood school kids look after your toddler? Don't feel like playing with your kid? It's all good. Other people do it! Maybe not your neighbors, but other people int the world. Just read How Eskimos Keep Their Babies Warm—And Other Adventures in Parenting.

This totally refreshing "parenting" book (I'm so over that concept, this verb—something we do, implying prescribed behaviors and benchmarks....instead of something we are—a relationship) gives snippets of how parents in other cultures deal with things like bed-time, eating habits, socialization, play. It approaches it all in a very open and à la carte manner, with the main idea not being what American parents do wrong, and aren't we so hapless, but just that there really is not one best way to do anything. So much depends on culture and environment.

One of the chapters I enjoyed most were the one on Argentina and small children not having a strict, set bed time. Whenever I hear about kids going to be at 6 or 7 pm (heck, I've heard of kids going to be in the 5:45 range) it just seems so early to me. Granted, we do the 8–830 range in our home, and everyone has their own schedule, but the strictness of insisting a kid be in bed at X hour, missing socializing, and doing real-world things with family and friends, missing life, is just sad.

In fact, it's more of the ethos of kids being more a part of life—going out to dinner with the family, even if its at 9 pm, going to parties and weddings that may last all night and catching a few zzzzs on chairs pushed together—that I think I love about the Argentina chapter.  Some would argue something like "If I tried to do that with my kid, they'd be a holy terror!" And I would just think, yes, probably, but its only because so many kids in America aren't brought up being a part of adult activities. (Uh-oh, I am sliding into the "what's wrong with America" line...it feels so inevitable, though...)

Another favorite chapter were on indigenous islanders (among other non-Western groups) who, though highly attentive to infants, just didn't play with their kids and thought this was a silly and strange thing. Author Mei-Ling Hopgood gives an interesting brief background on the history of play and toys in America that ties in well with the idea that adults playing with little kids is somewhat not natural and was something foisted on us (mostly moms, of course, as we were the ones at home when all this started mid-20th-century). And she tells of how smaller kids get swooped up into the activities of the older kids and learn socialization from their play in groups.

In most of these cases, parents just don't have the luxury to sit around playing with their kids, anyway, because they have work to do. And another great chapter talks about how small children in other cultures are enlisted to provide real and valuable help with family work, whether its grinding corn, doing the wash, gathering water or looking after little ones. It was really eye-opening to read about just how much children can do at ages we would never think of giving them work, 3, 4, 5. The children take pride in their work and it instills competence that many kids in America don't have even in college when they're clueless about how to even do their own laundry or cook for themselves.

I really enjoyed the book's approach of simply laying out these cultural differences as items of interest rather than necessarily practices we need to take on wholesale. I mean, obviously, it's not always possible or even safe to let small kids run loose in our cities and suburbs the same way people who live in rural settings without cars can, but there are definitely elements we can take away and incorporate, if we so choose.

The title portion, on how eskimos keep their babies warm, talks a lot about babywearing, which I love. One of the nicest things about this book is that some of the practices it describes are of the attachment parenting suite—especially the babywearing, and she mentions that that same mamas who send their toddlers off to play with the bigger kids and don't talk much to them were appalled by video of Americans who they felt let their babies cry too long and put them to sleep alone in a separate room. I like the way the book takes these "attachment" practices out of the realm of some academic philosophy on child-raising and presents in a simple and natural way of this is just what these people do.

The ideas in this post continue, moving on to a related, but different theme, on what teens need. I feel like being high-touch with infants and freer with kids as they get older is something I can run with, and so it was interesting, too, to stumble on a post from sex writer Susie Bright responding to the Atlantic article on mothers and careers...

Mothers—and others—do best when they're allowed to be whole people

I used to say you can have it all, but not at the same time—a cliché with some truth to it, though not my own concept, of course. Now more and more women with experience are coming out with this truth, following years of trying to pull it off. In the past, I didn't think it was so important for mothers to hold high-level positions, I mean, being a mom is very important in itself, right? I've changed my mind, though. Yes, raising children is important, but women who are mothers really do need to be part of business and government at the highest levels in order to ensure balanced policymaking. Here's a very good article wherein one woman from the highest ranks shares her experience and notes what needs to change.

  

Reading comments online to this and corollary articles, I'm struck by the lack of big-picture thinking many people seem to have. I really appreciated this article in terms of it being another voice coming out in support of work-life balance in general—and for moms/parents in particular. I think it's part of the slow, but certain, wheel of change that will bring us to a better place.

I am reading Twilight of the Elites: America After Meritocracy by Chris Hayes and it discusses the problem we have in America now with a relatively small and non-diverse leadership of our institutions, insulated at the top, who've failed us. Hyper-competitiveness and ego (the whole work-time machismo thing of being there grinding away into the night is an example) plays a role in causing these folks to actually not have the best or even good solutions to many of the challenges we face as society.

Ensuring there are mothers in high-level government and business positions will help diversify the leadership and balance policymaking. So, to me, it's not really so much about whether or not I personally "have it all." I may not want "it all," but some people do and being a parent should not keep them from achieving it.

In the bigger picture for women who may be more ambitious than I and have it in them to do bigger things, it must not be at the expense of their families—we need them in these positions of power.

Regarding work-life balance for all and in general, also revealed in comments is how some people just can't get their heads around this the concept at all. "Is it fair for childless people to have to work extra hours..." they ask. No! Nobody needs to work so much. Perhaps even more people are hired (thereby helping unemployment) and we all work a little less. Europeans seem to have a handle on this. Why, oh why, is there this assumption here in American that there is always so much very urgent work to be done that can't wait til 9-5 tomorrow? Or, maybe 9-12 pm after the kids are in bed, before which an employee took off at 2 pm? The world is not going to fall apart if certain things happen a little later instead of now. Of course, there are exceptions in emergency responder fields, certain service jobs that are less of "emergencies" but are based on timing, but don't be ridiculous, like I said, they seem to manage in other countries.

Those already well-positioned in life have to take the leap to claim it and we have to make it such that it's socially unacceptable and gauche to grind for hours and hours and hours all the time at the expense of everything else. For example, one commenter on the New York Times Motherlode blog's coverage observed, "I've learned that, in Germany, staying back late at the office too often raises questions about competency. My former boss got plenty of unpleasant scrutiny because he chose to stay back every night until 10pm, rather than go home and face his marital situation. Unfortunately, it made him look incompetent and unable to do the job in the allocated time and didn't help him when it was time to renew his contract; he was let go."

NPR did a series on work-life balance a couple of years ago. The concept has definitely been floating around for at least a few years now, so please, take it down a notch, America! We'll probably get better results anyway.

Challenge: Play more and find a way to make it edifying

I'm having mothering problems. My kid wants me to play a lot more than usual lately. (Maybe it's that preschool is out and instead of four days, she's just going to camp just two days—and of course, she's become used to being with us all day long now, and mostly engaged, after having been on vacation all together as a family for two weeks.) I don't really like playing, though. I feel sad about not liking playing.

One of the big problems I have with it is illustrated in the photo above—kids this age are disorderly. I am an order fiend (to my own standard, I'm sure some people "worse" than me would come into my space and be appalled—it's all a matter of degree). It is extremely difficult for me to find my place in the midst of this disorder. To her, I think, it somehow all makes sense. She's playing classroom. The Duplos in the middle are the schoolbus. The ones on the left are (were?) the classroom. The foam bits on the right are the playground. Presently, in the picture, the animals are hiding the paint they spilled with those paper towels. The paint is marker she drew with on the yoga mat.

Why it is so hard for me to pick a role in this story line and act it out with one of the figurines? That's all I'd have to do, right? My mom used to do it, I think. And yet, I have so much trouble with it. My kid tends to tell me that something I do when I try to do it playing isn't quite right and I (rather immaturely, I admit) get frustrated. I mean, I'd rather be reading or something, and I feel like I am doing something for her by playing and so she should be grateful for my play rather than critiquing it. Then again, if I am doing it for her, why shouldn't she have it her way?

I think I would actually enjoy playing—or doing art or crafts—in such a way that I am teacher. But, my kid doesn't really let me play that role. She kind of likes to run the show. And her show doesn't always (doesn't usually) make sense to me. She makes up words sometimes. Has arrangements I don't quite get. Sometimes she'll come up with something really cool and brilliant, though. But usually, my regimented adult mind can't get past the disorder.

In searching out ideas to help me, I mostly found academic/scientific information saying it wasn't necessary (or necessarily even good) for a child's development to have an adult play with them. But I'm not only concerned with my child's intellectual development (which I think is on track). I am concerned with our relationship.

I have to somehow overcome this. I feel like I should play with her, at least sometimes, and probably more than I do. I want to instill in her a sense that she is worthy, fun, a valuable and interesting person that people should want to engage with and so I don't want to reject her by not playing with her. And, practically speaking, she is an only child, so she has real needs for interaction. We do playdates, but it's just not feasible to do them every single day. I may crave alone time as a world-weary adult, but she is fresh and new and has much to share.

This is where getting high would come in handy—ha ha! I would be able to play so much better if I was high. Not high, I just see messes that I will eventually have to help clean up and my mind is pulled to real life, real issues I want to sort out by reading or writing. But, I digress. I need to expand my consciousness sans chemical aid and make this work. For me as much as for her. It could be a great opportunity to release myself from some of my neuroses. I mean, why this need for order? Have I always been this way? I don't remember being so touched by this need throughout my whole life.

I feel like I used to be so much a better mother to a baby than I am to a kid. Babies you just hold, feed, and you still have your brain to yourself. A kid kind of takes over your brain, if you give it half the attention it needs, or at best splits your consciousness in two somehow. No wonder I feel so nutty a lot of the time!

I have to face this challenge, though. I have to somehow find a way to play with her, ignore the messes and tap into how the make-believe storylines and dialogues might be able to teach me things. And she's been patiently waiting for me to join her by that crazy block pile, so, here I go...