Live Free

On screen time.

A few weeks ago, I declared my blog controversy free...And here I am about to write out my thoughts on media and my child. Can it get any juicier?? Don't answer that.  

What a touchy subject, isn't it? It seems like everyone has a strong opinion on this one. People get defensive. Or feel guilty. Or feel helpless. I know one thing's for certain. Judgement gets us know where. Except to feeling yucky at the end of the day. 

I only want to share what Byron and I have learned through observation and trial and error as parents to a young child in the modern world not because I think we have it figured out. We don't. We fail often. I want to share because this parenting journey is such hard work and we do need support from each other, guidance, and most often, a listening ear. Neither Byron nor I, are quick to take on strict black and white views of the world. We tend to find ourselves frequently questioning both sides of an issue. It's quite easy to peer into someone else's windows, pass judgements and declare ourselves righteous. But at the end of the day, we can only take responsibility for ourselves and have compassion for our neighbors. 

Bea has had some exposure to TV. There have been seasons where it has been more prevalent. Yes, she'd watch a program or two a couple of times of week. As she has gotten older, she's often become fixated on wanting to watch more Curious George, Thomas the Train, or Caillou (those were what we have allowed.) Yet, ss she has entered the 3 year old phase, her will has become very strong, and she is not as easily redirected. We found our struggles were becoming more intense. Then, finally, after an indulgent week with family earlier this summer, we hit a wall once we were back at home where I knew that Byron and I needed to assert control over the situation. Though, we've never let her indulge at our house, it was beginning to feel like a constant battle that didn't need to be fought. 

So we cut out TV during the weekdays. Plain and simple. Even though the programs she has been exposed to have been as benign as they come, we chose this route because she's at a stage now, that if we aren't dilligent in our intentions, she would want to watch a lot more television. I was afraid that we'd lose control and that she would eventually be spending hours each day in front of the screen, watching programs that supported none of our family values and prevented her from her main tasks of playing and working. Then we'd find ourselves scratching our heads wondering where her newfound mannerisms and tones derived from.

For her, TV is very alluring and very impressionable. With the flick of a remote, she can be transformed from a particpating, active, verbal, musical, young child to one that is entirely passive. And passive is not who she is. She is not herself when she watches TV. 

And that's that. 

I like who she is. Even on the hard days. I like how eager she is to help us in the kitchen or with backyard projects. I like how she plays around the house with her Dolly, making up sweet and funny songs and scenes of daily life. I love her enthusiasm for riding her bike and her passion for books. I love her curiosity about the world, and her thoughtful wonderings about our existence. 

Don't be fooled into thinking I am not tempted to turn on the babysitter - often. Like any 3 year old, Beatrix can be an intense little person. Our days can be overflowing with emotions of every sort and conversations to match. There are times, I survive one breath at at time, digging deep to find every last bit of grace stored away inside my being ~ truly, every bit is needed.

TV is attractive. It can offer the much needed respite that so many of us parents need, especially by the end of the day. And I've taken it on days where there was no capacity for another creative option.    

However, since July, we've cut out TV almost entirely. We have gone for several weeks without her watching any TV at all. For the first week or two, it was a challenge. She cried and whined almost everyday to watch a program. But once she got out of the routine of watching her program, she stopped asking for it. During those parts of the day where she relied upon TV for entertainment, she began discovering how to fill her time with more play or creating her own down-time for herself. 

When I do allow for her to watch TV, she sees it as a special treat - not something that we just do, and not something that is a part of our everyday rhythm.   

We've noticed the more she doesn't watch TV, the more she doesn't think about it. The more she does without it, the easier it is for her to find creative ways in which to play in her environment. When I hear her composing songs, or playing restaurant, or mama and daddy, or snuggling up on the couch engrossed in a picture book I feel a great sense of peace knowing that despite the struggles of being a three year, she's doing alright. She is getting a chance at childhood. And I think that's the greatest gift of all.   

Some new spaces for the little one.

First, let me say, that I feel really fortunate to be able to write about the little one's new work and play spaces. As a Montessori guide, over the last few years of my parenting journey, I've had to reconsile between my ideals and my reality in regards to our own creation of child friendly spaces for Beatrix. True, then and now, I know in my heart that what children need above all else, has very little to do with the look of their art shelf, playstands, or organic wool Waldorf dolls. I think so many of us know that their needs are much deeper than that. How simple yet humbling it is to realize that what they really need comes from within our very own souls -  that is, to be in the presence of someone worthy of imitating. Still, from my own perspective, an environment can not be ignored. An environment is a powerful influence. Being in the presence of beauty can certainly inspire energy and love for the world around us. 

Our previous homes were small - 800 square feet or less.  And though I admit to having a knack for organizing and using space wisely (my mom taught me well), I did eventually feel that we had maximized our living quarters to the best of our abilities.  Quite frankly, allowing Beatrix to choose, move, and work independently didn't always work perfectly in our well loved but tiny homes, because we were limited by space. This was fine. We have no regrets. Children are adaptive and forgiving. She is, I'm sure, all the better for it.  

Now, we have the space we need. It's not gigantic at all, but I must confess, this home seems luxurious in comparison. When we moved into our home last month, Beatrix's bedroom was the first room of the house I "completed". I love children's spaces. They can be so cheerful, bright, innocent, and timeless all at once. I've loved creating hers, tweaking it as she has grown. The majority of her belongings are either hand-me- downs or thrifted. I love the patchwork this piecemeal collecting has created. 

Also, I can not  write this post without talking about Beatrix's response to her little nooks in our home. Beatrix is fiercely independent. She absolutely thrives on being challenged to do things for herself.  From her earliest days, she has exhibited this force to care for herself and her environment. It has truly been an awakening for both Byron and myself - to watch her bloom. I know this statement sounds so generic, but it's so true! What a profoundly interesting notion to think as well: how much of a person is the result of nurture and how much is the result of their being  - their own spirit.  We'll never know with certain, but I find it hard to believe that we created this little person and her habits - her ways. My intuition tells me that she is in control. She is who she is and she has been the one in charge - creating herself. 

She is still very much the same child I've written about here and here. That is, who she was is who she is still.  If Beatrix has a task to do near Byron or I, she's a happy, content little one. She works and sings. She works and dances. She works and imagines. She works and plays. She flows. So throughout our home and our outdoor space, Byron and I strive to design our lives in a way that can include her. She is, afterall, so very capable and so very willing. 

Her bedroom is a place that she mostly sleeps in. Yes, she's slept in her own bed since she was six months old. It was her choice, not ours. We literally followed this child to her very own floor mattress! Lots of times, she'll take her toys to the living room or kitchen and play with them near wherever we are in the house. She'll play in her bedroom if we are near her, before or after sleeping, or with another friend!

The little art shelf near the kitchen mimics the art shelf at The Natural Child. Bea loves school. She loves the Montessori environment. She loves choosing her work and putting it away. It works very well for her. The Montessori environment speaks to her orderliness and independence. She feels empowered by the decision making.  As one can imagine, her little work shelf has been a real hit. Though basic in what it offers, I think it's just enough to inspire her. Right now, she can choose from cutting, drawing, water colors, and pasting. The bottom shelves also serve as the home to some of her play kitchen materials.   

Her play kitchen is also a much loved area. Though unless there is someone to play with her there, she usually prefers to participate in the real meal preparation and cooking as opposed to pretend kitchen play. Lately, she's been using her play kitchen as her work station. She'll grate cheese or chop vegetables there.  

Throughout our home, there are little accessories that we've added to help serve Beatrix's drive for independence and participation -  a good step stool in the bathroom, a coat hook at the front door, hooks for her broom, mop, and dustpan in the mud room, a low kitchen cabinet to place her dishes and napkins. These little adjustments make a world of difference to her sense of well-being. More than a bin full of  toys or the business of extra-curricula lessons, she discovers the world and thus discovers herself through meaningful work with her hands near the ones she loves and trusts the most. 

Oh, and if you haven't discoverd Pinterest. Please check it out.  It's an addictive source of inspiration to all of ones creative endeavors! I've had the most fun discovering and sharing with like minded folks there. Enjoy!!!  

We go way back.

I have the wonderful fortune of living 30 minutes away from my greatest childhood friend and her lovely family. We've known each other for nearly 30 years. That's a long time. We met in kindergarten. And we like to swap our vague memories of those early days with one another. Sometimes it's hard to decipher which childhood "memories" are real ones and which ones are merely made up in our imagination. It's a wonderful feeling - to have this kind of person in one's life. One who can act as a sort of checks and balance to the memory of childhood. I'm so grateful she's just a short drive away.  

We don't always get to spend much time with one another.  We're both busy mothers and wives now. Schedules are tricky things we've learned. Our friendship has evolved for sure - from training bras to in-the-thick-of-womanhood.  But this summer, the stars have aligned, the waters have parted - and we are finding it possible to spend more time together. 

I can't tell you what fun it has been to watch our children become friends  - to know each other and their homes. Today Kristie and her little girl came to my house. We took a nice walk through the neighborhood, had a breakfast taco, and played in our favorite garden.  

Us mamas had a chance to catch up. Nothing rejuvenates my spirit more than a easy visit with a great, old friend. Sincere conversation can never be underestimated. No topic too big. No topic too silly. No topic too revealing. It feels so good to unload and just "be" around someone who knows my story.  

Because of, Not in Spite of, Her Children

A long time ago when I was just a young undergraduate student, I enrolled in a sociology seminar focusing on gender identities across cultures. It was during this time, that I was also reading a lot of Alice Walker. In what has become one of my favorite essays of hers, "A Writer Because of, Not in Spite of Her Children", Walker introduced me to these words. 

To my dear children,

Florence, Sylvester, Jake, Christy, and Alice,

without whose sweet background noises

this book would not have been written. 

The words come not from Alice Walker but from Buchi Emecheta, a Nigerian/British author and mother. They make up the dedication of a book she authored, Second Class Citizen.

In her essay, Walker refers to Emecheta's dedication as the exact sort of dedication she could never have written. With much admiration for Emecheta's humble Nigerian roots, Walker recognized that she was not this kind of mother - one who could nourish her artistic expressions and mother graciously. No, she needed silence and clear separation from her mothering duties to nourish her own spirit.

At the time, with no thoughts of motherhood on my future's horizon, these words resonated with me.  For, I could not help but ponder my own mother's existence. She, a single mother of six, in rural Louisiana, surely let loose a life's worth of her own dreams to insure that her childrens' stories would read differently from hers. Yet, despite her daunting duty, my recollections of her mothering are those of warmth, attentiveness, unconditional love, and respect. My memory recalls a mother's love that was bountiful. Her tasks (though not of the artistic or intellectual sort) left her most content, if we were all together. Her family, together, is how she liked it. 

Now, many years later, I find myself still in awe - of these women - of this simple quote - of the enormity that is motherhood.  Yet, as I am my mother's daughter, our stories so delicately intertwined, and we are of kindred spirits, I find myself striving daily to be that kind of mother. The one that works with, plays with, listens to, dreams with, laughs with, lives presently alongside my daughter, my own little girl.  Not in spite of her, but because of her. 

Because of her, my life has more texture, richness, and fullness than I could have ever imagined. 

Happy Mother's Day to all women who have helped lift up and nourish the spirit of a child. 

Spring!

Pardon the tardiness of our Easter recap. Small issues in computer land had us off-line for over a week.  

In the weeks leading up to Easter, Bea asked me each morning, "Easter is coming today Mommy?" More than any other holiday thus far, she has really enjoyed the preparations and celebrations of Easter. Maybe it was all the books we read at home and at school. Tales about bunnies and eggs, chicks and duckies. Or the sweet little songs like, "John the Rabbit" and "Bunny Foo Foo" or growing wheat grass in straw Easter baskets and watching it grow tall and lovely in a matter of no time.  

I'm pretty sure it was all of this and more.

Nests, birdies, eggs, chickens, their eggs, gardens, seeds, life, growth, wildflowers, bees, bunnies, Mr. Sunshine...

What's not to like about the arrival of spring and the powerful sense of renewal and hope and life and love that this time of the year offers up to us. 

Such good stuff indeed.

There's so much I want to remember about this season, this year. 

These are the days.

Isn't it interesting how the definition of 'fun' evolves (or comes full circle) as we grow older. 

I couldn't of wished for anything more during these afternoon hours on this lovely spring day with my sweet, little one. 

These days, there's not a whole lot needed to bring contentment to both my two year old and myself, so it seems.  

My sweet one.

It's easy for me to be bugged out by the dreadfully hot, dry, and windy weather we are experiencing ALREADY. Honestly, ask anyone who knows me well. They'll vouch for my crankiness. 

But then all I have to do to perk up is to STOP and to pay attention to my obliviously joyful, wonderous, chatty little one and all is right with life. 

She's like that. She takes people's breath away. Just like when she was an eency weency baby, she still has the ability to make people stop and stare. It seems it is official: Byron and I are now Bea's mama and daddy. Feed store personnel, farmers, grocery store stock girls, cashiers, postal workers, and neighbors, know us not as Byron and Nichole but as Bea's mama and Daddy.  (i.e."Oh, your Bea's Daddy!" was one comment received this weekend.)  

She who prances in boots or sandals or most preferably -  bare feet.

 

Who dances in the wind. 

Who delights in life growing. 

Who sees all chickens as if they are the only chickens. 

Who climbs her daddy-made ladder to check for eggs, over and over and over and over... 

Who helps those around her whole heartedly and with such strong conviction. 

Who sings and kisses and plants seeds and has tea parties and plays doctor with Dolly. 

What a breath of fresh air you are to those who have the pleasure to live with you! 

 

You are divine, my sweet.

Oh, happy day.  

to communicate

One day, when Bea was just a wee, little babe, my great friend and I were visiting and doting on our baby girls.  She, an experienced mother of three, said to me something that I never forgot. She told me how much she loved her children as babies.  Babies ARE lovely and precious and divine as can be. But she said the love and connection only deepened between her and her children as they grew.  And that nothing compared to being able to communicate verbally with her children.

Huh...I was skeptical.  Here I was, holding the most precious, the most gorgeous, the most perfect little being. And she was telling me that, for her, the best had yet to come.  

Intellectually, I could grasp what she was saying. Being a Montessori teacher, I had the opportunity to witness the growth of little children for the three years that they stayed in the primary environment. I knew the wonder.  I knew the potential. I knew that growth of human life was full of good stuff.  But I also knew that the ability to speak meant that they could talk. And that the talking would never stop. Sigh.  

No, 18 months ago, I was as in love as can be with my non-verbal, adorable, sweet, happy, smiley babe. "Better than this?" I questioned. I wasn't ready to believe it! Yet, these days, as I listen to Beatrix explode into spoken language - I hear Kristie's words in my head and I smile to myself.  This must be what she was talking about.  This is so incredibly good.  

I've been documenting a year of good things with Stephinie's flickr group and today as I was listening to her sing through her day, I couldn't help but feel so very happy for these sweet little moments.

Some of her favorite lines from songs that make my heart melt, melt, melt:

1.  wash, wash, wash your hands.

2. merrily, merrily, merrily, merrily.  

3. erika, erika, erika, erika. stella, stella, stella.  Proceeds to sing all her friends' names from school in her cute little toddler Beatrix accent.  

4.  ashes, ashes all fall down.

5. one, two buckle shoe. three five...

6. hokey pokey!   

 

Work and Play

Two posts in one day!  I know, I didn't post much last week. I wasn't feeling wordy, but now I am.   

I had planned to do some water color painting this morning with the little one.  But before we got started, she made it clear that painting was not what she had in mind for her morning work. Ahem. 

Well, then let's move on now shall we? And so, I backed off and continued to do the regular daily chores that needed tending. A little while later, we found ourselves in her room and she just went to town. For about an hour, she worked and played peacefully. I was able to do my own work while she did hers. When prompted, she even obliged and put away one activity before choosing another, which is something we've been working on.  

She's grown lots these days. I've noticed that more and more she likes her work. Oh, she still spends plenty of time in my feet and helping me with my chores. But she is also becoming more and more her own little person, with her own joys!  It's so very sweet to witness.  On her shelves right now, we have lacing shapes, stringing beads, lacing cheese, and Matroyska nesting dolls - all of what she adores! I also keep crayons, color pencils, paper, and playdough on the shelf for her to choose as she likes as well.  

Though she loves her work, she is also a real hoot to observe when she is engaged in imaginative play. Oh my, does she mirror her mama so acutely some days when it comes to taking care of Hazel and Dolly. "Heavy!" she exclaims as she lifts them to her chest! I don't know where she gets that from? Here, she is organizing a game of A Tisket A Tasket for the farm animals.  How cooperative of them to play so nicely in a circle! 

Today unfolded just as it should. She worked. I worked. We played. We listened to music. We read books. We snuggled in bed for a nap time.  When she wakes up, our evening routine will commence with some outdoor time spent visiting (chasing) the chickens, hanging out laundry and then dinner preparation.  

Ah, wow! I suppose we really do have a rhythm!

Note: I'm not sure how it happens, but Bea always seems to snag the room with the best light in the house. My word! No wonder, we've been migrating to her room more and more often. The light in there is fantastic. As you can see from the enormous amounts of photos in this post, for a little bit, my work became my camera. How I do love to chase good light!  

365:10 Great outdoors

I adore exploring the great outdoors with Beatrix. Whether we are in our backyard chasing chickens or at the nearby nature trails admiring the eccentric fowl, gathering sticks,pepples, and feathers nothing turns that frown upside better than fresh air and mother nature.  

I want her to know and love the outdoors not only when it's 80 degrees and sunny, but when it's humid, hot, and sticky or cold and damp. Already, her passion for water is alive and well.  "Splash" she says at the sight of puddles and streams!  I can't help but smile with approval. I'm proud that at not even two years old, she knows how to make a good splash from a puddle of water. Rain is miraculous occurrence that  deserves songs and dances for as long as it graces us with its presence. And - that when tossed into water a stone can do wonders for the ears and eyes - oh my - gurgles and ripples - who can get enough of that?

A couple of evenings ago, I was revisiting a book I love, Last Child in the Woods. I read a passage from one of the last chapters, one which resonates with me so deeply "The Spiritual Necessity of Nature for the Young."  The author describes a meeting he had with a rabbi, a Catholic priest, a Protestant Minister, and an imam to discuss parenting. The rabbi defined spirituality as being constantly amazed. I like that.  

I can only hope that Bea has many of those - moments of amazement - in her days. And I hope that these moments of amazement stay with her throughout her life, each one compiling and connecting to the other, grounding her, supporting her, as she becomes the person she is meant to be. And I like to think that taking her out for a winter hike on a cold and damp morning allows for such moments. One of the greatest joys to parenthood is to be present for these moments of amazement. In our adult mindsets, these moments can sometimes appear to arrive at inconvenient times or times that can just be easily overlooked.   But really, if we can step back, pretend, remember, imagaine we know childhood, then just sometimes we can catch a glimmer of the world through their lens. Boy, oh boy, this universe really is amazing and wonderous and mysterious and all knowing.  What a trip!