Quality of Life

Despite unlimited multimedia, I saw Elazar playing with these earlier today.  When I walked by later, I noticed he had left a little design.  Every time I walk by it, I smile.

I realized this morning that hassle of getting Chen's paperwork in to apply to college aside, my life is pretty calm these days.  Around three or four years ago, when my youngest was leaving toddlerhood, life took a turn for the easier.  The constant, unrelenting childcare began to ease.

But today I was thinking that I can't remember the last time one of them cried.  In fact, I think I've cried more recently than they have.  Considering that most of my day used to be spent with little people crying and throwing things at me.  I remember when the first two hours of my day, from 5:30-7:30am, were of my two little ones tag teaming me crying. 

Even when the older two boys edged out of the constant crying, my youngest was quite a crier.  Walking to shul always entailed him collapsing in the middle of the street screaming.  We thought of him as the hulk--usually pretty even tempered, but "you won't like me when I'm angry."  I couldn't understand how my youngest child's temper tantrums were wiping me out when I could remember juggling three (sometimes four) tantrums at the same time.  But after age 4, his tantrums became more...robust, I guess.

Then there was the stage where the older boys went to bed late and the little one just couldn't keep up.  Either bedtime was excruciating as he fought it, and/or the next day was difficult as he was too tired, and thus more prone to irritability (read "the Hulk"). 

Then, one day, he grew up.  He could tolerate going to sleep late.  He began sleeping later in the morning.  I let him go to bed when he wanted to and many days he put himself to sleep when he was tired, knowing if he wants to, he can stay up with everyone.  Even if he was tired, he functioned the next day.

Like I said, I haven't heard them cry in ages.  They have disagreements.  I try to be there on hand to help them talk through it.  The tactics we use are:

• Eye contact.  Look at the person as you express your complaint
• Take turns.  Don't interrupt.  Wait until the first person has completely expressed everything he wants to say.  Then it's your turn
• If someone says Stop, or Don't do that--respect that.  (That often doesn't happen in the course of roughhousing or teasing or sublimated aggression.  When they bring me into it, I am the superego who reminds them that verbal communication is ideally listened to on the first try.)
• פשרה, Compromise.  A lot of times the solutions they come up with are not what I would have thought of.  I'm thinking "fair" but they think about working it out.  
• Don't leave the conversation until both parties are satisfied

My main point?  Life is more pleasant when you're not being cried at all day long.  Perhaps this is an obvious point.  But a stay-at-home mom with small children may not even realize how much emotional energy is sapped by being cried at constantly.

(Irony--as I was writing this, Elazar started crying because his plans for buying a sushi making kit [which he'd been planning for a few hours] didn't work out.)  

(Update--he sobbed in my lap for 5 minutes, then went out of the room and figured it out.)

the eternal basement issue

My path is not staying clear.  Twice this week I sent the boys down to clear my path.

Further, I sent the boys and their friends downstairs to play this week.  And they didn't want to go.  Why?  Because there was no room to play.  The basement is not a functional space if they have no place to go because it is too messy to be there.

So I told them I was going to clean it up sometime this week, and could they please pick everything off the floor that they wanted to keep, since I'd be throwing everything else out.

Chaos ensued.  They all reacted according to their natures.  Elazar said no problem, throw everything out, he'll get to it or not.  Aharon came immediately over and asked for help.  He said that he wants all of his legos, but there is no room for the legos on the shelves.  So I said we need to clear off some shelves and I'll help him.

Jack began to scream and cry.  He had numerous issues.  First, the basement is supposed to be a space that they don't have to clean up.  It is supposed to be a space for them to spread out their arts and crafts.  They only play ball on Shabbos.  Why do I have to say I'll throw everything out; why can't I help him put things away.  If we keep putting things away, then there won't be space for them.  (Then let's throw things out, I thought).

I made a number of mistakes.

• I was not kind.  
• I felt out of control.  I didn't negotiate peacefully, listen carefully to what they were saying, try to understand.  I wanted to go in and throw everything out.
• I let the basement get too bad to the point where I was upset instead of taking care of it weeks ago when it was getting to me.
• They were overwhelmed, unhappy, and stressed.  Jack especially felt very tense that his space was under attack, I couldn't hear him, and that things were going to go in a way that was upsetting to him.  No one was too happy with how I handled it.
• I forgot my principles--that when I am comfortable with what I am asking, and can be clear about how they can achieve it, I can be kind.  Insistent and firm, but not mean.  I need not pressure, raise my voice, have a mean expression on my face, talk over them as they try to explain the issue.
• I felt guilty for making them clean up when they the space messy.  I felt bad claiming my need for a path and a working space for them to be because it conflicted with their needs for that space.  Instead of trusting that we could work together, talk it out, and come to an agreement, my guilt had me pushing and insisting on my way at the expense of listening to them and stressing them out. 
• The basement took more than 20 minutes to clean up.

What I did ok:

• I didn't scream.  I didn't really lose patience.
• I have categories that are not too hard to direct: legos, balls, weapons, a&c, costumes.  They finished that in under 20 minutes and the rest was for me to throw out.
• I did listen, I did hear.  Yes, I could have been kinder.  But I did hear what they wanted and we did work it out.
• I threw out lots of little lego pieces.  I always feel compelled to keep small pieces "in case" they need them for creative work.  But there are plenty.  It's ok.
• I gave myself permission to throw out a stroller that always falls apart into 2 pieces that I keep for guests who come over.  It annoys me.  If/when I have a grandchild who wants one, I gave myself permission to buy a new one when that day comes.  
• The basement is clean(er), it didn't take too long, it didn't overwhelm me or the kids too badly.  I hope I learned some things about how to run the negotiations next time, so that I can talk to them kindly and with confidence that we will work it out and our needs will be met.  

Classic Conflict

When I named the previous post "Zos Chanuka" I had in mind to write this one.  By the time I sat down to write it, it slipped my mind.  Although life's pace is slowing down, sometimes I have a dizzying amount of things on my mind.  Getting Chen's college application in was a huge relief, but there are still things to follow up on, play practice to drive to, doctor's appointments, and Jack wanted baseball cards so to earn them I said he can learn for $1 per session and now he keeps wanting to learn.  (מתוך שלא לשמה, בא לשמה, I keep saying to myself as he listens with half an ear and dreams of baseball cards.)

So on the last day of Chanuka, I davened before the boys were awake (that's been happening, so my grand plan of davening out loud has not been working as frequently as I like, and I prefer to daven before I start my day or it doesn't happen) but held off hallel until they were all around. 

(BTW, Elazar just came over to me and asked me to edit his story with him, but I had to refuse him because I have something scheduled in a few minutes.)

So I start singing hallel, and just as I start, Jack gets up to go play with the neighbors.  I gesture for him to stay for hallel.  The other two know that I like them to be around when I daven out loud, because they were usually awake when I did it.  But Jack sleeps late and rarely was around (which is ok, because out of the 3, he's most likely to go to minyan for social reasons and also pretty likely to have the zitzfleisch to learn the davening).  So he didn't know the protocol.  So he's getting annoyed that he has to stay there when he wants to go play.

So instead of davening being a fun, quick, singing hallel that kind of gets in their head that they hum later, hallel is turning into a sulking child and a frowning, chastising mom kind of a hallel.

Then I think: well, the idea is for them to have a positive association with tefila and want to do it.  And now he is getting upset and resentful.  So I'm actually accomplishing the exact opposite of my goals. (My other goal is for them to be familiar with davening, but at the expense of him resenting it?)

From an unschooling perspective, obviously no question--Jack should leave.  But I started it, and maybe I should demonstrate that it's important to me by insisting Jack stay?

Ultimately I shooed him out.  I didn't think it was worth having him there and being upset he had to be there.

I think in homeschool, we often end up choosing the relationship over pushing the lesson.  Either the relationship between parent and child, or the long term relationship to learning.  The child ends up learning less, but hopefully has more positive relationships.

Zos Chanuka

Aharon's burning desire to read has settled down.  He stopped dragging the reader in every night 4 minutes before the cutoff time (10:30pm).  Either he achieved a level of mastery that he is content with, or the urge that had been driving him just eased a bit.

I forgot about the rhythms of learning.  Back when I used to homeschool (not unschool), some weeks/months the kids would be raring to go, like their brains were extra nimble and they were super motivated.  Then other times they'd be like molasses, difficult to motivate and sluggish to work.  I learned many years ago to look out for the highs and grab them and get as much done as possible.  Because during the lows and dips they didn't want to work.

It was something I didn't know about from "regular" school.  Kids have to go by what the class is doing, and don't get to ride the waves of their own personal brain functioning and motivation and zip when they are uber efficient, and take it easier when they are more stagnant.  But I saw it a lot in homeschool when I taught other people's kids.  And I see it here again.

Burning Chanuka Question

7yo came in this morning (he would have woken me up to ask this; happily I'm getting plenty of sleep these days and I wake up early most days) to ask:

Do we light the Chanuka candles on Shabbos?

I said no, we light before and we light after.

He said: Then how can it count for the day?

Excellent.  He's thinking halachically.  If we light before Shabbos, how can it count for that night?  Doesn't it need to be after nightfall? 

I reassured him that it's ok, we do light beforehand and it still counts.

But now I'm thinking about it.  How does that work halachically?

I do find about homeschooling, especially unschooling, that kids aren't mentally worn out from sitting so many hours and their curiosity is not dulled from studying things they are not interested in.  People who are in school have a hard time comprehending the urge to think about things when you don't "have" to.  I myself, a product of the school system, continue to be shocked by it.  But very often, my kids wake me up with "school" questions.