Posts Tagged ‘children’

 

Crisis or calling?

Tuesday, August 31st, 2010

At a time when I am learning who my friends are … or rather who my friends aren’t … I am learning other lessons that I would rather not and more and more I am becoming disillusioned with life’s textbook. In the process of discovering the extent that social norms dictate the opinions of others towards what we choose to do, I can’t help but notice how much it scares people when you do something out of the ordinary … it shakes up their ideals and makes them wonder how fallible their own nucleus is.

When we are children we are told over and over how to behave, what not to do, that we are being naughty when we are just being children, what constitutes the overly-important word: polite … and we are smacked or punished when we don’t conform. We are, in a nutshell, controlled until our natural instinct for life is sapped and we become clones of this Borg-like social colony that obsesses over the size of their TV, their bank balance and the latest SUV.

Not surprising then how if you sit still for long enough and listen to your heart’s strongest desires – when you choose to follow a path that doesn’t fit the norm – you are not honoured or revered. It’s just not part of what we have been taught as children. People think you’re a problem; they accuse you of having a midlife crisis if you are remotely close to ‘that age’ … and sometimes your therapist even asks you to check your hormones. You become the person people tut about while they wonder if you’ll ever get a reality check.

But whose reality exactly?

I think about how my child, since he could string a coherent sentence together, spoke maturely about his ‘other family’; the one with the brother called SiscoFranco and the father from Spain and the mother from Paraguay … or was that the grandparents? He will be able to remind me because the story has always been the same, which makes me believe that, at his age when he can’t even remember what he had for breakfast immediately after taking his plate to the kitchen, there has been no embellishing. Children are so close to the spirit world that they need encouragement to find who they are now, while they still know why they came and why they chose you … although my child has always stuck to his story that he chose me because no one else was available!

It is a cruel society that shapes our children to fit a mould rather than encourage them to find their own unique fit.

Sure, I’ve been on the other side, blaming people for either taking too many drugs, being in lala-land or possibly just not getting enough sleep. But now I am here, I realise how profound it is to give up the norm and be quiet enough with myself to access what exactly it was all those years ago that brought me into this world in the first place.

Whether out of compassion or ignorance, people tell me they hope I find out who I am. But I have always known … of course I have. We all have an inner knowledge of who we are; it just isn’t necessarily the person people feel comfortable knowing.

It is not so much about change. It is about finding your way back. It is about ‘un’change.

Fizzling friendships

Monday, July 26th, 2010

I was caught up in a cheesy email chain letter (try and say that fast) recently. It was about friendships, relationships and those people who drift through our lives passing on a little wisdom, or gathering some, before moving out of our lives again. Being close to those midlife crisis years (allegedly) has given me cause to seriously reflect on the words in the email even though I feel slightly ashamed to have passed it on. Having a baby shifts things with friends, as does getting a divorce. You change, situations change, others change … and you shift up and down rungs of friendship ladders all the time. Yet you still feel like mourning the loss of a friendship regardless of whether the parting is good or bad.

Escaping to Durban meant my child was away from his school friends again for another month. He forgot their names. Everywhere we went he played with other children, behaving like he had a new best friend each and every day … only to forget that person the next time he met someone new. I couldn’t help but wonder why we fixate on the breaking down of long-lasting friendships when often the best thing to do is just let them run their course and then let go.

There are a few friends that have just drifted away and then there are those I have turfed out intentionally. I can count on one hand only the ones I have turfed intentionally. They are: the girl I shared digs with who slept with every guy I brought home for ‘coffee’ … hence having to wait an extraordinarily long time before I could find someone to harvest my cherry tree; the guy who almost beat up my husband on a small road in Putney outside the house we shared with him … I suspect it had something to do with pent up frustrations over my forbidden fruits; and there is the guy who I have known for longer than I have known my husband who, like all good gentlemen do, has backed the horse he feels will come out tops and is giving my husband advice on our divorce.

I used to obsess over the severing of these relationships as though they were limbs I could still feel even though they were no longer there. But through my child I am learning to look at what I have right in front of me … not only the magnificent friends I have and love but the incredible people all around me waiting to be delved into; waiting for that spark that begins it all.

Favouritism or just a different perspective?

Wednesday, June 23rd, 2010

I was speaking to a mother of two girls and a boy – someone who claims to love her two daughters but to be ‘in love’ with her son. The topic of favouritism came up and she denied she has one … a favourite.
Is her denial just self-preservation because she doesn’t want to seem like a bad mum or does she really not see it? … because, really, it’s quite normal isn’t it? … to prefer one child over the other/s since, in the big mix up of DNA, the more children you have the greater the chances are of having one that is so like you, you just can’t help loving that one more. We show them that they are ok because someone else has the same quirks as they do. We provide a comfort. My mum favours one of my sisters while my dad favours me. I always wanted to be my mum’s favourite but, like my friend, she always insisted we were all equals. If she had just made it clear from the start, would it have been easier? Would I have been under less pressure to try and please her? Children always pick up on stuff anyway so surely we need to make it clear how things are so they don’t spend half their lives trying to find a way through the fug … and the other half in therapy.

Dangerous boundaries

Monday, April 12th, 2010

I was taken as a child. It wasn’t a traumatic experience and I really cared for the kind man who gave me kisses outside the library and lured me across the street with the promise of a sausage. I remember the tug of war in the middle of a four-lane city street; my mum pulling one arm and the kind man, the other. I remember feeling terribly embarrassed about my mother’s behaviour and I remember trying to reassure her that this man was perfectly ok and meant only to give me a treat. I couldn’t understand how my mother could be so rude when she had taught me such good manners.
We teach our children manners, and that’s just fine. But what happens when these so called manners actually start interfering with their boundaries and they begin to bring these walls down, only to be confronted with the dangers that they are not equipped to deal with waiting on the other side. We, as adults, can gauge … usually … who to greet and who to give a wide berth to; we can say hi and walk on by and we can put up walls as quickly as we can break them down. Our children aren’t equipped to do this. They are encouraged to greet and hug perfect strangers just because they happen to be our friends and they are meant to be nice to the man or the woman at the supermarket or the friendly person who finds them cute on the Promenade … all because mummy and daddy want a child who is friendly and polite.
But what about damage control? Do we tell them that they must be polite as long as we are with them but they mustn’t talk to strangers when we aren’t? And isn’t this just confusing them? Shouldn’t we be teaching them to trust their instincts rather and never force them to acknowledge anyone they are not comfortable greeting. Once they know a person as well as we do, surely that is the only time we can expect a little boundary dropping. Manners can prematurely break down the boundaries that really do need to be there. Perhaps practising manners at home ought to be good enough for now.

Perfectly dysfunctional

Thursday, April 8th, 2010

I spent the morning yesterday at Kirstenbosch Botanical Gardens with friends and acquaintances … and offspring … and found there was so much to reflect on. Not the beauty of the perfectly manicured lawns and sculptured edges. Not the music from the songbirds or the singing streams. Not the magnificence of the mountain looming overhead. None of those. Just the perfectly damaged trees. The trees the children chose to climb through, up, over and under – the ones that gave them pure joy and hours of play – were the one that was struck by lightening and the one that had blown over. Both were ancient and both were still growing strong, just in a different direction. They were growing horizontal while sending more branches up towards the sun. They were propped with supports and they were thriving.
I couldn’t help but wonder if that is not exactly what the human condition strives for. But can anyone claim to have truly achieved it? Doesn’t the real human condition lend itself more to the picking up and dusting off; the pretence that we can still grow upwards despite the past … when perhaps what we should really do is take life’s thrashing and just grow in a new direction. Find that perfect balance of coping with what’s been dealt us and find a way to keep growing … with just that little bit of support.

Some toys should be locked away

Monday, February 15th, 2010

A very long time ago I was embarrassed by a child I once looked after. She was four at the time and I was nineteen and we were playing hairdressers in her room … as one does … when she told me that her daddy was in love with me but he couldn’t marry me because he was married to her mum. Guess who was standing behind me? There was a lot of awkward eye shifting and foot shuffling and mutterings before her dad walked away and the incident was never mentioned again.

My child never embarrassed me … until recently. It was my husband’s birthday party and the house was full of people – mostly the short variety. Adults and children were playing in every room of the house. It was a good day.

There are items in the house that have been forgotten about since having a child … items that I often wish weren’t forgotten but circumstances prevail and … well, these things just get forgotten. But not by the child. He had seen something that, when it came to playing cops and robbers, he knew would be a great asset to the game. He walked proudly into the room swinging the pink fur-coated handcuffs. It could have been worse … but not much, I doubt. I might have even blushed and, for once, I couldn’t blame it on champagne.

Whacko words

Friday, November 27th, 2009

I call my child noo-noo, shnoek-poep, Mr Moozle … basically whatever comes out of my mouth. And it puzzles me as it not only makes me sounds slightly ‘challenged’ but it brings out maternal feelings that I never knew existed.

I asked around and I am happy to declare that it is all perfectly normal – these weird terms of endearment are simply a testament to the love we feel for these little distractions that throw our hearts into turmoil.

My dad used to call me cockroach or cockalock – not exactly heart-warming but, said with great tenderness, surely just a bit of the same.  Sadly, I can’t think of any words my mother ever used …

4 minus 1

Thursday, November 26th, 2009

Our pool of friends has suffered its first casualty. It’s because of the children. I am sad and relieved all at the same time. Sad because I knew them at the beginning, I was at their awesome wedding and I love them. Relieved because they are the first!

What do people do when their children get in the way? Because they DO get in the way!

I work with children whose parents throw them away when they get in the way … they are dispensable. But what if you’re not a prostitute or a drug addict or you don’t live in dire poverty? An educated and affluent person throws away their partner instead. We feel the burdens of life too strongly to suck it up and live through the pain. We are weak. We haven’t suffered enough to realise that ‘this too will pass’. Or maybe we are just a bunch of cynics and life is too short to get bogged down by small miseries.

I can’t say the thought doesn’t cross my mind – I can’t throw my child away, so why not just get rid of my husband? I suppose the few years you get to grow your children into adults pass so quickly and then they leave you eventually … they never took that vow to stay with you forever – so maybe it’s the relationship with the person who just might stick around once the children have left that should be preserved.

I’ve lived through unbearable but perhaps this is even beyond that; I just cannot say. I don’t support the argument of staying together for the sake of the children but splitting up because of them is just plain tragic.

Some one once said that the choices you make follow you through life …

Friday, November 13th, 2009

This made me think about a friend of mine who, on discovering she was pregnant, went to every clinic in town to hunt down one that would give her the abortion pill. But on finding one, decided there must be a reason it had been so difficult to find it in the first place that she couldn’t go through with it after all. She now has this bright and bubbly child who comes with her fair share of trials and troubles but who fills the house with light and joy. It’s hard to imagine there would ever be regret … and I don’t even ask because it is so unimportant now.

Becoming a mother was the biggest shock of my life and learning to love the child I claimed had ruined my life was a tough journey indeed with many a tortuous mountain peak. I now find that the love I have developed for him over the years has grown like a tumour around my heart and to get rid of that love would mean ripping my entire heart out of my chest.

So, although I feel guilty and wonder if he’ll ever forgive me for not wanting him to start with, there is no cell in my body that would want it any other way. Sure there are times when I hate my role and wish I could be untethered again … but, this child: he is meant to be here for reasons I am, as yet, incapable of explaining.

Your children will hate you no matter what

Monday, November 9th, 2009

We fret so much about doing the right thing all the time … at the right time and in the right way. We’re terrified we’ll do something wrong and damage our children so much that they’ll end up hating us. But, you know what, when our children get to 13 or 14 (often even sooner), they are going to hate us anyway. It’s inevitable … like hormones.

Which makes me wonder if perhaps the best thing to do is bring them up in a way that will preserve our own sanity rather than theirs … and that way we will be better equipped to deal with the inevitable.

You may get lucky and have a child that doesn’t ever hate you. And what a bonus for that sanity of yours.

Back to math

Tuesday, November 3rd, 2009

Having just had that experience of crossing over into the life of my parallel dweller, visiting friends in London and Paris, I have also experienced staying with two friends who have chosen to have two children. Although my trip was primarily to run the Paris 20km, a distance I am fast becoming a veteran in, I have recently been making tourette-like declarations of intent to run a full 42km marathon before I am 40.

I’m running out of time.

Watching my friends with their children and gauging the extra workload of adding that extra person to the household, I got to wondering if the decision to go from one child to two children is perhaps something like going from a half marathon to a full marathon: it doesn’t necessarily require you to up the pace … often you can plod along a little slower … but the stamina required is oh so much more.

The apple and the tree

Wednesday, October 14th, 2009

It must have a certain amount of something to do with vanity when you hear your own words come out of your child’s mouth and think how wonderful he is for saying such clever things.

This is until your sweet curly-haired and blue-eyed four-year-old instructs you to tell the cranky neighbour to just f*** off. I’d love to blame those hippy parents of his school friends for not bringing up their children properly … I’d love to but I can’t really, can I …

All I could do was tell him what a rude word it was and that it would be best if he didn’t use it in public. Now he just whispers the word in my ear when he thinks the situation we are in may warrant its use.

Nature/nurture

Monday, September 28th, 2009

I’m six. I am sitting in the dentist’s chair and I am that child again who hid in the waiting room, jaws firmly clenching shut, face numb. The dentist has already given me five injections and has only one left to administer before he can extract the tooth … but nothing was getting me back into that chair. My mother called in friends of mine, friends of my older siblings, adults, and even bribed with all my favourite sweets and desserts. But she eventually sighed deeply and dragged me home. That was the beginning of my bad encounters with dentists and I still have a phobia.

… or maybe I am just stubborn. I look at my child and shudder at the thought that he might turn out like me and put me through this kind of hell. And then I realise that perhaps he already is. Could I have made him like that in the short time I have had with him, or is it feasible that I had nothing to do with it apart from the genetic perspective?

Most relevant right now, it seems, is the obsessive-compulsive disorder (OCD). I have had it since I can remember. I never knew what it was but I remember seeing it come up in all my aptitude tests and I trusted my parents to discuss with me anything that I might need more information on so as to better manage who I am. They never did. I see the same characteristics so clearly in my son and I blame myself for his being like that anyway because, whether it was nature or nurture, he is like that because of me.

One can never tell what really is nature or nurture because you can’t experiment with both simultaneously.

You can’t have your cake and eat it

Monday, September 7th, 2009

A new friend is a friend out of our connection over the lack of any real need to have children. I am known to her boyfriend as the evil one as he is determined to have kids (to the point of dumping her if it doesn’t happen). I suppose it is unfair of me to try and dissuade her as there are things that can be done to pre-empt any of the crap that enters your relationship when having a baby. There are practical tricks and tactics that can be deployed.

For example:
discussing expectations of parenthood;
defining a budget for things such as a night nurse;
planning logistics around routine and responsibilities;
looking at the potential need to move in order to accommodate a child;
balancing work and social commitments and sacrifices;
counselling sessions before even trying to fall pregnant.

You can’t have it all. We want it all – I suppose that is normal … what makes us human. But having something always comes at the cost of giving up something else. And perhaps that should be fine. Having a baby costs. We can’t expect to keep everything of what we were before having a baby … and have the baby too.

Breaking down the baby barrier

Monday, August 3rd, 2009

I know now why all those ex friends and acquaintances kept encouraging me to do the child thing … they just wanted to be able to be my friend again. I used to find it shallow that they couldn’t be friends because I hadn’t given birth … like they were part of some secret club and I didn’t know the password. But I have found myself guilty of a similar thing lately – I have been befriending people I haven’t seen in years because they have since had a child. Once you have had the identity crisis that having a baby brings, it is just so much less intimidating being around people who just may be on the same wavelength as you are.

I find myself trying to play it safe, play down the parent thing, when out with childless couples. I feel boring talking about my child and wonder why it is any less boring than a friend talking about their job … but that’s how it is; it’s my new reality.

The biggest problem … and this is quite huge … is when you don’t like your friends’ children or your friends don’t like yours! There’s also that thing when people become their children. I’m guilty of it … as is every parent I know … you have to get through the invisible shield that holds all the child-related angst and bullterrier-like protectiveness before you can get to and engage with the real me.