Homeschooling frequently brings up questions of religion, because a large subgroup of homeschoolers hold conservative religious beliefs. Many of them homeschool precisely because they want their religion to be central to their child's education. However, this does not describe our family. My husband is becoming pretty comfortable referring to himself as an atheist. I have just begun attending our local Unitarian Universalist church and feel very at home there.
This Sunday was the second time Ladybug and I attended our new church, and it was Ladybug's first day of Religious Education Class. She eagerly stuck a felt flame on a felt chalice and even more eagerly devoured goldfish crackers. Mom got to listen to a sermon without a toddler's joyful noise. A resounding success for everyone.
For Bug, I imagine that the striking part of this day was the new room to play in, being without mommy for 45 minutes, and the new toddler friends to play with. I am struck by the idea of dropping her off to (eventually) be taught about a subject as personal as religion by someone else. I'm reflecting on why I am mostly comfortable with the decision. Most parents seem to feel that tug when sending their child to school. But for a homeschooler, this is an especially sensitive spot. Am I indoctrinating her? Why am I rejecting one institution and accepting another?
That day's sermon provided part of the answer to my questions. In honor of the beginning of Religious Education classes, the topic was Education. The minister spoke about the value of letting children explore their consciences, rather than imparting absolute truth. He went on to say, "The Unitarian Universalist faith is a faith for explorers, and we need to encourage our educational systems...to explore in greater depth." This philosophy is in line with my own, in large part because of the trust and respect offered to children. I am willing to trust a small part of my child's education to people with this philosophy of exploration.
Monday, September 17, 2012
Sunday, September 2, 2012
No Bonus Points, Part Two: Community
Part One of this post can be found here.
My husband and I have realized that we are way overdue for some support in this parenting job. Him writing and defending his dissertation, followed immediately by a move with toddler and brand new job, these were just last straws. Very. Heavy. Straws.
So where to find a sitter in a town full of strangers? Start by acknowledging that this isn't a town full of strangers. We've lived around here for six years now, and made good friends. Since moving here, and especially since Ladybug's birth, I have learned a lot about participating in a community. A good first step is to be willing to talk to people, which will make friends out of strangers.
I met my some of my closest mom friends through La Leche League meetings. It didn't happen immediately. In fact, after my first meeting I was a little put off by how easily the other moms were chatting with each other and not me. But I kept attending and learned how easy it is to talk to others you've gotten to know. When another mom started talking about a childcare swap, I said, "Let's do it!" and we formed a three-mom weekly support group. Earlier this summer we took turns watching each other's kids, and I actually did get to several chiropractic appointments that way. I admit to not mentioning this great arrangement in my rant post. Goes to show how jealousy and exhaustion skew our perspective.
I have been working on becoming a regular at our local homeschool playgroup, in hopes that over time our family can form even more friendships. So last week I went to the archives of that group's discussion list and found a homeschooled teen looking for babysitting jobs. She was available on a particular night we needed and came with references. I was excited but still nervous about leaving our toddler with a perfect stranger, even one with CPR training.
It turns out community was on my side. When I asked our sitter for her references, one of them was my La Leche League leader. I was so relieved and said to my husband, "She's not a stranger anymore!" Turns out the LLL leader has known the sitter for years, since she was young enough to need a sitter herself. She watched Bug for us and things went smoothly. I don't know if her schedule or interests will allow for her to be the regular sitter or not, but I was so encouraged by the whole chain of events. We're not alone here, in homeschooling or parenting.
My husband and I have realized that we are way overdue for some support in this parenting job. Him writing and defending his dissertation, followed immediately by a move with toddler and brand new job, these were just last straws. Very. Heavy. Straws.
So where to find a sitter in a town full of strangers? Start by acknowledging that this isn't a town full of strangers. We've lived around here for six years now, and made good friends. Since moving here, and especially since Ladybug's birth, I have learned a lot about participating in a community. A good first step is to be willing to talk to people, which will make friends out of strangers.
I met my some of my closest mom friends through La Leche League meetings. It didn't happen immediately. In fact, after my first meeting I was a little put off by how easily the other moms were chatting with each other and not me. But I kept attending and learned how easy it is to talk to others you've gotten to know. When another mom started talking about a childcare swap, I said, "Let's do it!" and we formed a three-mom weekly support group. Earlier this summer we took turns watching each other's kids, and I actually did get to several chiropractic appointments that way. I admit to not mentioning this great arrangement in my rant post. Goes to show how jealousy and exhaustion skew our perspective.
I have been working on becoming a regular at our local homeschool playgroup, in hopes that over time our family can form even more friendships. So last week I went to the archives of that group's discussion list and found a homeschooled teen looking for babysitting jobs. She was available on a particular night we needed and came with references. I was excited but still nervous about leaving our toddler with a perfect stranger, even one with CPR training.
It turns out community was on my side. When I asked our sitter for her references, one of them was my La Leche League leader. I was so relieved and said to my husband, "She's not a stranger anymore!" Turns out the LLL leader has known the sitter for years, since she was young enough to need a sitter herself. She watched Bug for us and things went smoothly. I don't know if her schedule or interests will allow for her to be the regular sitter or not, but I was so encouraged by the whole chain of events. We're not alone here, in homeschooling or parenting.
No Bonus Points, Part One: The Rant
I am sometimes a mass of negative feelings about motherhood. It's much easier to blog about the happy, fun times. I don't have to worry about Ladybug reading the posts later and feeling bad, or about making my own mother feel guilty. I also don't write up the negative times because I am naturally trying to focus on the positive to improve my mood. Then there's the old standard, "If you don't have anything nice to say, don't say anything at all."
So this post has been burning on the back burner while I came up with a way to say something useful and not just rant and complain. The whiny part is: I live hundreds of miles from almost all of my family. I have one sister in town, who is young and busy trying to make her life work. (Like us, she does not own a car, which means we see her about twice a month when things are good.) Lately I cannot read or hear people talking about the family support they receive without drowning in jealousy. When people ask me how I like motherhood, I answer honestly, "It's good, but unrelenting." Unrelenting to be on call 24/7, and to never get a break unless it's at your spouse's expense. For all of Bug's life, it has been my husband or me caring for her. There have been a handful of evenings in almost two years where friends put her to bed, or came over after she was asleep so we could go out. My sister watched her for us on our wedding anniversary.
Every other moment has been my husband and me, learning to parent this daughter with a big, sparkling, demanding personality. We never worry that this girl won't speak her mind. Throughout her infancy I avoided the phrase "high needs baby" because I didn't want to sound whiny. Isn't that something mothers just claim to get extra sympathy? We all have a hard job as parents. Very hard. But, as Bug approaches two years, I am finding that I resonate with the descriptions in Raising Your Spirited Child. The intro made me tear up, because I am exhausted.
I hear other people talking about how their mother comes over every week. Or how they "prefer not to use babysitters," when I know they have family regularly watching their children. I want to scream. I love my baby so much, and I have noticed that a few hours away is all I need to refresh myself, see her as the darling child she is, and parent her the way she deserves.
Time for the personal responsibility: why haven't I been arranging those few hours for myself? Why have I let myself get to the point where I don't know when I could schedule a doctor's appointment, let alone a pedicure? I had a great conversation with a set of newish parents who have been friends of ours for several years now. I admit they are among those who bring out my jealousy, because they are so much more relaxed, and consequently happier than I am. Anyway, they mentioned how getting a sitter happened early in their son's life because Dad's birthday fell soon after baby's birth, and they wanted to celebrate. Being able to have a sitter became a regular thing, and they say getting one early is one of the best things they did. I agreed wholeheartedly that it's a good plan. There are no bonus parenting points to be won for doing everything yourself.
I look back at Bug's early days and wonder if I really could have done anything differently. I left her with her dad at 6 weeks so I could go to my postpartum appointment. She screamed the entire two hours I was gone. Every subsequent time I left her, she did the same thing. Around three months, my husband held her and tried to comfort her for four hours while I dared to go shopping with a friend. I reflect on those days and think that I must have developed a habit of doing everything myself, of writing off time to myself, because my newborn would freak out otherwise.
But things have changed. Bug can now self-soothe. She actually screams much less at other people than she does at me! Time to contemplate a solution. This has proven to be a long post, so I think I will continue in "Part Two."
So this post has been burning on the back burner while I came up with a way to say something useful and not just rant and complain. The whiny part is: I live hundreds of miles from almost all of my family. I have one sister in town, who is young and busy trying to make her life work. (Like us, she does not own a car, which means we see her about twice a month when things are good.) Lately I cannot read or hear people talking about the family support they receive without drowning in jealousy. When people ask me how I like motherhood, I answer honestly, "It's good, but unrelenting." Unrelenting to be on call 24/7, and to never get a break unless it's at your spouse's expense. For all of Bug's life, it has been my husband or me caring for her. There have been a handful of evenings in almost two years where friends put her to bed, or came over after she was asleep so we could go out. My sister watched her for us on our wedding anniversary.
Every other moment has been my husband and me, learning to parent this daughter with a big, sparkling, demanding personality. We never worry that this girl won't speak her mind. Throughout her infancy I avoided the phrase "high needs baby" because I didn't want to sound whiny. Isn't that something mothers just claim to get extra sympathy? We all have a hard job as parents. Very hard. But, as Bug approaches two years, I am finding that I resonate with the descriptions in Raising Your Spirited Child. The intro made me tear up, because I am exhausted.
I hear other people talking about how their mother comes over every week. Or how they "prefer not to use babysitters," when I know they have family regularly watching their children. I want to scream. I love my baby so much, and I have noticed that a few hours away is all I need to refresh myself, see her as the darling child she is, and parent her the way she deserves.
Time for the personal responsibility: why haven't I been arranging those few hours for myself? Why have I let myself get to the point where I don't know when I could schedule a doctor's appointment, let alone a pedicure? I had a great conversation with a set of newish parents who have been friends of ours for several years now. I admit they are among those who bring out my jealousy, because they are so much more relaxed, and consequently happier than I am. Anyway, they mentioned how getting a sitter happened early in their son's life because Dad's birthday fell soon after baby's birth, and they wanted to celebrate. Being able to have a sitter became a regular thing, and they say getting one early is one of the best things they did. I agreed wholeheartedly that it's a good plan. There are no bonus parenting points to be won for doing everything yourself.
I look back at Bug's early days and wonder if I really could have done anything differently. I left her with her dad at 6 weeks so I could go to my postpartum appointment. She screamed the entire two hours I was gone. Every subsequent time I left her, she did the same thing. Around three months, my husband held her and tried to comfort her for four hours while I dared to go shopping with a friend. I reflect on those days and think that I must have developed a habit of doing everything myself, of writing off time to myself, because my newborn would freak out otherwise.
But things have changed. Bug can now self-soothe. She actually screams much less at other people than she does at me! Time to contemplate a solution. This has proven to be a long post, so I think I will continue in "Part Two."
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