Some things take time. A lot of time. We marvel at how children learn, and yet forget just how much space and time we give them to learn. An adult who had a 10-year-olds mother tongue capacity would not be considered fluent. That is a decade of learning! But the 10-year-old becomes an adult and slowly the flavour is added to the foundations. One of the obstacles to adult learning is we know about the idea of flavour. Once you are a specialist at something, we expect that Halo of competence to spread. Like we are 'essentially' a Specialist. Better than others. That makes us less willing to be rubbish at things. To build new foundations. The pressure from others to demonstrate progress. To be conspicuous about our development. Some things take time. Some growth is internal. I would love to see us give the kind of love and space we allow children, to each other. To ourselves.
The big issues facing most people I know are around where they live, who they spend their time with, what they are working towards, their health, and what dominates their thoughts. The ordinary. It is only in opening conversation that you realise how common some of the issues are. I am having Fertility difficulties - I hadn't heard the word Azoospermia till a test came back saying, 'all the tests were fine, except there is no sperm'. Speaking to friends, I then realised how many people were struggling. Mostly in silence. The stuff we talk about in public is filtered. We are scared of overshare. Our issues normally involve others, and we aren't sure if we have permission to talk freely. We tell our secrets to psychologists, religious leaders, lawyers and close friends on condition of secure confidence. How can we get the stories out in the open, without breaking trust? Most of what we experience has been experienced by someone else before. The specific mix will be unique, but the more we listen to and share with each other, the stronger our capacity will be to cope.
Social Media keeps us connected to each others lives, but only bits of it. I find it a great catalyst for real world interactions, and am a power user of other forms of staying in touch. Still, I am very aware of how we live our lives in parallel. There are bits we can't, or won't share, because they hit too close to home. We aren't sure if it is fair to share because others are involved. Does it breach 'the container of trust' we build by knowing more about people than the world does? Sharing everything can feel like a plea for help. Sometimes it is. There are lots of people who don't have support beyond this. There are communities building for the harder things like intimate relationships, deaths, break-ups, moving jobs, losing jobs, physical sickness and mental health issues.
I am lucky. I do have a deep bench of support... so this is not a plea for help. My partner Gem & I have been trying for a child for a year and a half, and after various tests have found out that I have a very small probability of having a kid, from me, even through IVF. Not zero, but tiny. There are other options to become a family, and we are looking into it. We have support, but this is one of those things with no solution. It just is. I have been broody for years and it is something I have taken quite hard, despite being philosophical and stoic by nature. In going through this, I have learnt just how common this kind of challenge is. It feels really odd to tell people you are trying. As you do, you learn just how many other people struggle their way through the storm of human fertility.
It does feel weird being public about it, but there we go. If you are struggling too, know that you are not alone.
I grew up with most of my world in a 5km radius. The beach (at 14km) was far away. But the world is changing. There is a big difference between being 5-10 minutes from someone, and having to plan to see them. You can't just pop in to say hi as you go on your way to something else. More than that, without strong ultra-local communities, our support networks get stretched to breaking point.
I have always wanted kids, but I know that if things work out, it is going to be hard work. Many of my friends have 'the crazy eye', desperately trying to get through the tougher parts of parenting. On the radio the other day, a 'pet whisperer' was talking about interaction between toddlers and dogs. She was saying not to force dogs to interact if they back off. It is their way of safely saying, 'this is just a bit too much'. The toddler first needs to learn to play nice, or else they require full time supervision when interacting with the pet. Sometimes parents, doing the supervising, feel like retreating like the dog.
I spoke of 'The five points of Yoga' to a friend - Proper Exercise, Breathing, Relaxation, Diet and Positive Thinking. He just laughed. It seems to become almost impossible to ensure people find the time to look after themselves first when they have kids. Even simple things are difficult without each other. Without time. We need to consciously make space and time, for each other.
The reality is that it is difficult for a Global Village to raise a child. It is easy for someone to take the kids for an hour when they live just round the corner. Long enough for a wide eyed parent to have a shower, or go for a run, or have a moments silence. In a global world, full of escape hatches, strong local glue is essential.
There are tight constraints on where the rules of money making work. Money is not an indication of value. Value is intrinsic, and deeply personal. Price is a clearing mechanism. Without interference, the only two things that matter are supply and demand. How much there is. How much is wanted. Parenting is the best example of this. You can't put a price on how much someone raising a child 'should' be paid. It is priceless and there is no market for it. I believe in creating buffers and engines.
A buffer is a mini-engine or shock-absorber, that can't last forever, but can let you look up long enough for the panic to subside, so you can make better decisions.
An engine is a muse. It can free how you spend your time from the rules of monetising. Not all good ideas are good business ideas.
The shock-absorber and engine aren't the point of the car. They are however necessary in order to go on a journey. Sometimes we do what we have to do. Sometimes we do what we want to do. You can't always rage against the constraints. Understanding constraints is a better way of dominating them, so they don't dominate you. Build a Buffer. Build an Engine.
Although I went down the financial route in my studies, and choice of work, most of my extended family have been involved in the caring professions - teaching, medicine, psychology or the church. I am lucky to have always been surrounded by ears willing to listen, and nets willing to catch. I am a pretty confident guy, but that is because I know what is behind me. At my lowest points (and many of my highest), one of the people who has always been there is my Aunt Michelle. She practices clinical psychology and neurophysiology, and is busy with a doctorate researching insomnia. She recently started a blog on parenting. Many of my friends have 'the crazy eye' at the moment as they deal with being new parents. I asked her if I could share her thoughts here...
Most of us fly by the seat of our pants as parents. We can read, prepare, listen to advice yet our experience is a unique and intriguing one. We may have been surprised, or carefully planned being a parent. Regardless, there are immeasurable sacrifices of self and yet immeasurable rewards.
Sons and daughters bring yet another dimension to our experience of life, and often leave us with a truck load of random feelings that come from a place we didn’t even know existed. Collectively, these feelings cover dimensions such as overwhelmed (particularly at the onset, by responsibility regarding the “foreverness” of the task), stuck, bored, mesmerised, in awe, bemused, delighted, irritated, angry, immeasurably proud, humiliated, ashamed, guilty and downright confused. Guilt, oh the feelings of guilt…
We are never the same when a child comes into our lives. We are more: multiplied, transformed, and metamorphosed. We need to care for self yet should no longer be self-centred, other-centred, stretched and expanded out of ourselves to see this person growing up under our care. We view the process with fascination and trepidation. Parenting is progressive and has momentum. Time never stands still; it is never enough or is immeasurably slow. We have to take care to not be distracted, dissociative, disconnected, tardy or poor role models. The little person becoming adult (eventually and way sooner than we perceive in the earlier days) watches and learns from everything we do and say, dependent on our ability to parent as responsible adults, not as friend. We need to keep them safe, watch their backs and treat their lives with honour, respect and reciprocity.
We watch their growth and marvel. How is it possible that we created this extraordinary human being, an extension of ourselves yet so unique in itself? We joy in family and social expansion as school starts and watch academic advancement. Extraordinary, frustrating, exciting, annoying. We defend our offspring with every fibre of our being, every instinctual urge and feel offended, affronted, anxious and distressed by outcomes. Yet the accolades and achievements blow us away, make us marvel again and breathe a sigh of relief that we have all survived once again. To strive for perfection in the process is nigh impossible. In the words of Winnicott, we need to be “good-enough parents”.
Dedicated to all the indelible and privileged journeys I have made with my children, and the children of others.
There are two types of poverty. The hard poverty is the structural societal community barriers that hold people back. The hard poverty revolves around mental health and inner worth. There is also easy poverty. Easy poverty is the stuff that can be solved by throwing money at the problem. I have never met a person who is a self-made success. It doesn't happen. We all received 'hand-outs'. If you don't believe me, spend one hour with a friend with a child aged less than about three.
These little emperors regularly treat their parents like absolute rubbish. Completely anti-social, entitled, nasty aggression. It is not an exchange. There are moments of joy that make it seem worth it. Seem is the operative word. Any rational person would not become a parent. It is not a rational decision. It is about survival. The love exchanged is not a measurable thing. It is the best example I have seen of someone putting aside their ego in order to give unconditionally. The love received is a hand out. It is incomparable. It is its own beautiful, precious, priceless piece of magic.
A friend of mine who is a new parent has started regularly phoning his parents. His new found appreciation for their love came from seeing how little he got in return for the sleepless nights, financial support, emotional support, lessons given. Another friend got upset that he didn't get enough of the magic moments because the time he spent with his kid had so much 'admin of life' that the joy was being sucked out of it. He spends so much time cleaning, organising, caring, and doing that he is tired when the opportunity for those moments come.
If you are a success, if you are even okay, it is largely because of mountains of time and unconditional love you have received from parents, mentors, friends, family, and your community. Figuring out how to level the playing fields is impossible. How we got to the starting blocks has a long history of people screwing each other over. War. Prejudice. Game of Thrones. Nepotism. Corruption. It is impossible to disentangle privilege from meritocracy.
One of the most powerful methods of sorting this out I have heard of ends 'easy poverty' directly. “I am now convinced that the simplest approach will prove to be the most effective – the solution to poverty is to abolish it directly by a now widely discussed matter: the guaranteed income.” Martin Luther King Jnr.
'Hard poverty' requires the difficult work of building communities. It requires philosophy, psychology, emotional intelligence and getting better at listening. Some of the hard poverty exists in people who point to entitlement without recognising their privilege. Solving some easy poverty requires solving the hard poverty of the wealthy.
End Easy Poverty Directly - Build Community to end Hard Poverty
One thing the bubble I grew up in didn't lack was female role models amongst my peer group. From my mother, grandmother, aunts, cousins to friends and mentors, I have always been in a world where women have excelled. Whether learning languages, conquering statistics, coding, teaching, listening, communicating with authority or managing people with inspiring empathetic skills. I went to a single sex high school, but up to the age of 12, the girls dominated us trouble causing boys. At university, I was in a single sex residence but our sister res was just next door. We shared meals, classes, life and debate. One of those inspiring people I met was Christie Roberts.
Trev:
Hey Christie, I hope you are happy and smiley. Was wondering if you fancied doing a guest conversation or guest post for my blog?
Christie:
Thanks Trevor. I would be keen...where I can find time during Luca's brief naps 🙈
My only disclaimer is that I don't feel like I'm very "interesting" right now - hardly reading, barely thinking and a stay-at-home mom (indefinitely) but let me know more about what you have in mind and let's see where it goes... it's ironic you speak about being "smiley happy" - I am doing well and overall feeling happy but have actual struggled with postnatal depression - probably one "cause" close to my heart as I'm living it out...
Trev:
I don't have kids but get to spend lots of time with friends who do. Although I know actually being in it will be harder, I don't have the wool over my eyes in terms of how hard it is. Dan Gilbert talks about parenting in 'Stumbling on Happiness' as one of those entire life choices where the early part is very hard work. A friend I met with in San Francisco was in the 'crazy eye period' and told me how much he had learnt about unconditional love. He puts all he has into the relationship with the child, and can't expect love in return. He gets incredible moments, but he says it has given him a whole new sense of appreciation for his parents. He has started trying to make more time for them.
Christie:
Absolutely - our whole concept of love is challenged - this little creature with such basic needs that you need to meet, that can only communicate and process the world through crying. It's only as they grow a little bit that one starts to get the "rewards" of a relationship: smiles, laughter and sounds that make a baby feel more like a little person. It's also such a huge transition for someone used to order, predictability, structure and validation from ones work. Especially having worked in the research arena for the last few years, one of my main tasks is data cleaning and quality control - things are either right or wrong, and one applies basic problem solving to resolve conflicts. Now you're in a world where there is no schedule, no predictability, no control and no validation. One can't manipulate or problem solve a baby. One has to learn flexibility, to surrender to the chaos, to relinquish control and accept that one is to take a supportive role - and to tap into a more intuitive part of oneself. It's a huge life lesson. And it involves a massive shift in identity.
I can't believe how much I am learning about myself through this experience. A baby is mirror - forcing one to see ones true self. It's deeply confronting.
Trev:
Although each parent-child dynamic I have witnessed is unique, there are some parallels that make me smile/cringe. I particularly enjoy the 'emperor voice' some kids get as they still haven't quite conquered their pleases and thank yous. The world they see is the only world there is and there isn't the perspective adults perhaps take for granted. Then there is the little fact that our brains aren't fully formed till we are about 25, and that is still just the machinery. Parents arguably get to deal with us at our worst and may have to wait till we are parents ourselves till they realise the effort required. It seems to me the important elements are still looking after yourself and hopefully being lucky enough to have a support network. Although some of my friends say it is just a period of warfare you need to get through with as few battle scars as possible.
Christie:
There definitely is a survival period - I think we are just emerging from that - the goal is to purely meet needs: feed, clean, hold, put to sleep. What has been so interesting to me is to see "nature vs. nurture" at work. While it is important for us to create and sustain a nurturing environment for our children, so much of who they are is not dependent on us. For example Luca was not a sleepy newborn - he was born with eyes wide open and he has been very aware and engaged in his world from the beginning. At first we were frustrated that he didn't fit the mould of what a newborn should (or should not) do - but as time has gone on, as we have gotten to know him better, we realise that this has nothing to do with us, with parenting failures but rather that this is how he is wired. So we are starting to accept that our (emerging) social butterfly, will not lie passively in the pram while we wander around the shops. He wants to be at eye level - in our arms, facing forward in the baby carrier at our chests - engaging with the world and its inhabitants. It's liberating to know that we have not succeeded nor failed in our parenting: he is who he is regardless of what we do. So we have to learn to embrace that our our role is to help facilitate the best version of who he is, rather than being responsible for "making him good". And there is a joy and reward in that: discovering more of who he is as he grows and learns more about himself each day. It's both fascinating and fulfilling to see his daily development - not just in the obvious milestones of walking, talking etc but in his perception of the world - from being a passive observant to seeing relationships between people and things, being able to engage in a game and to discover his sense of humour.
Nature v Nurture
Trev:
It is interesting that the survival period sometimes relies on skills we feel we have been able to specialise out of. For the purposes of a job, we can outsource administration. We can outsource chores. We can outsource anything that isn't our core competency. When it comes to parents, they are all in. They need the soft skills of knowing which fights to pick, and when to dish out affection. They need the tone of voice and confidence to set clear boundaries. They need to clean and act as a servant to the little majesty! There are lots of things we do for ourselves that ordinarily we wouldn't do for other people. Enter children and any traditional motivations get flipped on their head. It really is the best example of a Gift or Sharing Economy we have. Where the inconsistent and independent reward comes in those moments of joy, discovery, learning, engagement and humour.
(I am enjoying this conversation - I think the people I have spent time with would love to hear some of the insights you are having! Funny how it started with you saying you don't have anything interesting to say, and then all this awesomeness gushes out)
Christie:
Haha - it's a symptom of my Type A comparison syndrome that lets me tell myself "I'm just a mom" while other people are conquering the world. My world has shrunk and I am aware of how monotonous and mundane my days can be - menial labour sometimes - which, as you mentioned before, can be quite humbling for someone used to functioning at a different level. There is no outsourcing of changing nappies, mopping up vomit, pee and poo. It's messy at the coal face of child-reading and there's something quite special about that too: the great leveller - it's so basic, so primitive that one feels connected to parents of the world. This universal connection that comes with his rite of passage. And it's so comforting to know that we are not the first, nor the last people to struggle with this transition. While it can feel incredibly personal (symptomatic of isolation), the experience is so universal. Perhaps the most universal - there will be differences in approach, to how children are wired etc. but there are some common themes that all parents struggle with. And all parents have to find their own unique way to deal with their unique challenges but the struggle is shared. I take no comfort in the people who find it easy but rather in those who struggle - both with the physical aspects as well as the mental and emotional shift. And it's so freeing to know that it is normal to struggle. And one learns to give oneself permission to be imperfect. To accept and surrender to the chaos.
And with that baby wakes up and my thoughts are interrupted 🙈🙈🙈
Trev:
It is funny. I have actively chosen to step out of the world conquering and narrow down to more simple 'micro-ambitious' tasks like learning to cook and domesticating myself. I really didn't like the corporate world structure of pay and hierarchy determining whether people had 'done well at life'. I was also worried about how much of the success came from privilege and randomness. I worked hard, but working hard seems partly a random skill too! I recently wrote a post wandering what would happen if 'the rain came'. If we were all paid a Universal Basic Income that gave us financial freedom. That equaliser would mean everyone chose what they did based on incentives other than what we are used to. Parenthood seems like a great equaliser too. Whether you are a Billionaire or a Single Unemployed Parent, you are the custodian of a life. A little person who still has to learn EVERYTHING. Including that you are a pretty big deal.
Christie:
I had already taken some steps back from work before Luca arrived - working in research projects where I had flexibility. Over the years I have learnt more about my capacity and preferences - that working in clinical medicine wasn't going to be my future but rather to find other avenues where I could put different skill sets to use and that would energise me. I still have to fight the natural desire to think less of myself. And parenting has really revealed how hard on myself I truly am. My big challenge at the moment (working through with a therapist) is how to be kinder to myself, to extend myself grace. If I don't, then I end up treating parenting as a performance and both Luca and I suffer as a result. I can only treat him with kindness, patience and love if I learn to treat myself with the same measure of respect. Easier said than done.
Trev:
Yes, a lot of the stories we tell ourselves to cope sound amazing and then are ridiculously hard to put in practice. I think we are also in a rush. There is a Jewish saying that 'life begins with the kids move out and the dog dies'. A lot of jobs are probably best reserved for people with gravitas and wrinkles. I think we should probably only start working when we are 50! My mother, aunt, and father's wife all went back to university in the last decade and have launched new careers. I would rather get advice from, invest my money with, or work with someone who has been punched in the stomach a few times by life and carried on. The strongest people in my life have been women, and that is no doubt because the responsibility of parenting used to fall largely on them. I learn a lot by spending time with my friends who are parents. Thank you.
I have been lucky enough to be invited into the homes of a number of my friends and family since I started writing full time. Quality v Quantity time with people? I think the answer is both. There are some things we can't communicate over a single meal. I would still take a catch up meal with people I haven't seen in ages. A group get together. A wedding. The truth is that there isn't enough time at those events to relax together. I often walk away feeling nostalgic for when we saw each other regularly, rather than having got my fix.
Kids have a habit of saying things as they see them. Sometimes nasty. Sometimes funny. 'Look at that really fat lady' says lightie within earshot of really fat lady. Queue a disgruntled snipe to the parent about teaching their child manners. They also have healthy stranger danger when meeting people for the first time. They need to get to know someone on their own terms. When you get to spend a bit more time with the children, your impression isn't based on one little incident. The well mannered child occasionally says something inappropriate. The difficult child occasionally has a golden afternoon.
Is this Quantity or Quality time?
We can give too much information to single interactions with people. In reality our characters are wonderfully complex. Couples who have been together for years will still be learning about how they react. Last time doesn't mean every time. I think relationships are in a large part the gift of 'the benefit of doubt'.
One of my friends has a child with Autism. He said that 'if you know one child with Autism, you know one child with Autism'. Each child is unique. Parents learn a bespoke set of skills. I listen to his story with incredible admiration. Raising children is difficult enough already. Parents just desperately want to do the right thing. But it is hard. And they are human. Adding complications requires incredible strength. One of the lessons he said he has learnt is to give the benefit of doubt to other people. Whether it is them having a bad day, or their child having a bad day, or whatever the mistake is.
Behind the scenes, most of us have difficulties we are working through. We have emotional wobbles. Things feel like they are getting too much. We can cover it up to be functional most of the time. By adding some 'quantity time' to relationships we get the chance to see more of the story. We get a chance to be a part of the story. To walk together.
With the benefit of doubt and some time, stories have depth, character and meaning. Life is richer.
Antoinette is awesome. She is one of those people that make me feel warm and fuzzy without having to say a hell of a lot. Life with a pinch of smiles. She chose an equally warm man and they produced a bubbly little girl. I got to stay with them on my almost over trip down under, and got to know young Zoe who has just turned one. Even if my beard is niche, there is one little lady who is a fan. Antoinette recently wrote an article for Indian Link Newspaper which she said I could share with you.
Loved and Alive by Antoinette Mullins
My first year as a mum has been quite a
rollercoaster ride. Just when I think “I’ve
got this”, bubba throws me a curveball.
My daughter, Zoe Margarete, was born on 14th
April 2014 – I was lucky and had a relatively easy labour (whoever invented the
epidural should be knighted!) and at 3:21 pm a scrunched up little girl with a
weird cone-shaped head appeared, screaming her way into the world. She snuggled up to me, with her mewling
sounds and stole my heart. It wasn’t
until 3 days later (luckily, without a cone-shaped head), when she really “woke
up” that my husband and I thought “What did we get ourselves into?”
No one can really warn you about the first
3 months. People tell you how hard it
is, that you don’t sleep much or often, that you need to learn so many new
skills and that you are generally just zombies.
But, nothing can really prepare you for that totally surreal feeling of
being responsible for another human being.
Something so tiny and incredibly vulnerable. And no one can prepare you for the incredible
amount of bodily fluids that such a tiny little human being can secrete. Out of every orifice. All.
The. Time. Babies are damp. Very damp.
They leak, dribble and poop all over you. Sometimes, all at once. Often just after you’ve showered and put on
that new top you just bought. This is
why you just stay in your tracksuit for the first 6 months. I used to love that Baby Love advertisement
where they market their nappies to be best at the “dreaded number
three’s”. I didn’t know what that meant,
until my tiny little baby girl exploded in the car on a road trip. I heard a noise, which I thought could only
have come from a wild animal – a growl but with the force of a thunder
storm. Then we smelt it…it was a dead wild animal! Surely our
baby with a tiny, tiny little bum could not possibly have created that.
Oh, but she did. Unfortunately
this was the one day I forgot to pack extra clothes for her, so for the rest of
our road trip, she was dressed in mum’s new top, while mum wore dad’s
jumper. We learn from our mistakes and we make do.
I recently saw a video of the babies
getting bathed by their mothers at communal washing spots in India – how the
babies are lying on their mom’s outstretched legs, being massaged and washed
with a bar of soap, then a bucket of (probably cold) water is thrown over
them. They seem sleepy and happy, even
though their mum’s haven’t bought the latest ergonomical bath seats, or despite
the fact that they aren’t using the no-more-tears, Baby Bath and Bedtime soap,
or washing them with a fluffy face cloth made from pure lamb’s wool. I’m sure there’s a lesson there, but we had a
different experience: my husband and I checked that the bath temperature was
perfect, using a floating ducky, which quacked when the water was too hot for
baby’s delicate skin. I was also
consumed with the nursery in the weeks before Zoe was born, ensuring everything
was just perfect. When she finally
arrived, what colour pillows were on the couch was the last thing on my
mind!
Babies have a way of putting things into
perspective for us…stressing about the small things is a total waste of time! And boy, did I stress about everything early
on. Is she too cold? Is she too
hot? Is she hungry? Why isn’t
she hungry? I remember on one of our
first trips in the car, just suddenly bawling my eyes out, because I was
constantly anxious and worried about everything – trying to think 3 steps
ahead: packing her nappy bag, to ensure I have everything for the next 2 hours
– did I pack her fluffy bunny, because a 7 day old might suddenly decide she
wants that bunny while we’re out;
packing the car in case I need anything in the 10 minute car trip to the shops;
did I grab the shopping list?; what if she’s hungry in Coles – I don’t want to
flash my boob to everyone in the Deli!; what if I have to feed, but leak
everywhere…..”clean up in isle number 3”!
Ah, the things you worry about at first.
There are many things I learnt in those 3
months, but learning to pick things up with my feet / toes, must be one of the
most rewarding. Dropped the keys? No problemo, I’ll just scoop them up with my
toes. Can’t reach my phone while feeding
in the middle of the night? Don’t
disturb the baby! Just wriggle your toes
& grab that phone!
After we survived 3 months, and we slowly
settled more into a routine (LOL! The
routine was: Eat, Sleep, Poop, Repeat in different cycles), these ‘petty’
worries, quickly changed to more serious issues….Is she sick? What’s wrong with her? Is she teething? In my home country, South Africa, we give
teething babies biltong to chew on
when they cut their teeth. It’s
basically beef jerky, spiced or salted meat, air dried to preserve it. Quite salty tasting, but very delicious. It’s like Vegemite for Aussies – an acquired
taste. We found a local butcher who made
biltong sticks for bubs, which weren’t too salty – she chewed that piece of
meat to within an inch of its life and then wanted more. A few days later, the first little tooth
peaked through. What did we learn? 1. Trust your instincts and 2. Go with what
you know. There was so much knowledge
out there, but we just followed what was familiar and decided not to “sweat the
small stuff”.
My most recent lessons happened a few weeks
ago: 1. Making Zoe laugh hysterically in
the bath is quite easy and very rewarding. 2. Zoe poops when she giggles. 3. My husband is quite useless when number 1
and 2 happen together. As you can
imagine, trying to get a giggling, wet, slippery baby out of the bath, while
also trying to scoop up the poop and shouting at your husband to help and stop
cowering in the corner, is not easy. But, mum’s make do.
At the moment, I’m learning to juggle work,
life and baby – sometimes not so successfully.
I’m being introduced to a term I’ve often heard, but never quite
understood: mommy guilt. This was
emphasised by a random stranger the other day who asked who looks after my
little girl while I work. I told him she
goes to day care – he said “What? So young?”
I was shocked that a stranger had an opinion on my decision to return to
work, and put her into day care, but I still managed to reply “Well, she’s been
going since 9 months, so I guess I’m a really
bad mother”. In my days off with her, I
compensate by cooking her special meals and freezing them, playing horsey and
singing The Wheels in the Bus until
my ears bleed. Of course, when I need to
give her packaged food when her special meals take too long to defrost, I feel
guilty all over again. I just have to
tell myself – we make do.
We’ve just celebrated her first birthday –
when I look back over the last year, it’s not the number 3’s or the sleepless
nights I remember most (OK, I do, but with a foggy haze that clouds my better
judgement against having another baby).
It’s the giggles and smiles, the cuddles and the open-mouth kisses that
make me all warm and fuzzy. She gave her
first steps a few days ago – all on her own, unstable, chubby little legs. I quite literally squealed with delight – she
got such a fright, she sat right down and haven’t done it since. A friend recently told me his philosophy on
having kids: Get them to 18 and teach them that they’re loved. I’ll buy that. Raise them to know that they are loved – hug
them. A lot. And let them be themselves. For the rest – we’ll make do.
We spend most of our early lives studying towards a vocation. A lot less time studying parenting. One mother I spoke to recently suggests more time should be spent pre-birth on sleep patterns post-birth than preparing for the actual event. Her midwife said that if she had a birthplan, then she should look for a different midwife. I am completely unqualified to comment which makes Bruce's second guest post a lot easier to take on board. My naive non-parent view on parenting so far is three rules:
1) Get them to 18 alive,
2) Let them know they are loved, and
3) Don't forget yourself and your partner.
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Our 5yr Old in Our Bed
by Bruce De Bourg
“My boy
is five and still sleeps in our bed”, or “the university was shackling my
creativity so I dropped out of my commerce degree”
Can people really make those two statements
out loud in public, and get away with them? As the words hit my ears, I am filled
with an irrepressible urge to respond with a couple of incredibly helpful and
discerning observations. To the hippy parent, I need to voice my insightful
opinion by saying something about how this boy is going to be the target of
adolescent ridicule, all the way into the girl’s netball team. To the
delinquent student, I am obliged to describe the size and girth of the glass ceiling
that he unknowingly raised a few millimetres from the top of his head as soon
as he left the university building.
So, with much condescension, I make my pair
of extraordinarily eloquent and clever contributions to the gathering of my
seemingly captivated audience. At this stage, I am beginning to feel really
good about the value that I am adding to the discussion as we sip on our
pretentiously branded craft beers in the warmth of some of upmarket
Johannesburg’s most expensive braai coals, burning on a Highveld summer’s
evening.
As a bit of background, it is important to
note that my personal profile shows that I am a relatively new father on one
hand and an accountant by training, on the other. I therefore am exceedingly
well qualified to poke holes in other people’s life choices when they relate to
those two particular spheres of interest, right? Surely, my wealth of knowledge
will fall upon the ears of my listeners like the first raindrops of summer
landing on the yearning dusty brown Lowveld grass after a dry winter season?
What complete nonsense. I am no more
qualified to make other people’s life decisions than I am to perform open heart
surgery.
It is in fact the occupation of parenthood
that has brought some very interesting perspective to my outlook on life. The
amount of uninvited retorts that are pushed in the direction of nervous new
parents is both stifling and contradictory. A first-time parent’s hesitant
statement of “I have decided to sleep next to my baby to make them feel secure
during the night” is eagerly met with “That is ridiculous. The only way that
you will ever get a peaceful night is if you let your children cry themselves
to sleep”.
As an aside, a recent favourite
conversation of mine began with me explaining that my eighteen month old
daughter has recently started biting us when she gets frustrated with our
inability to understand her highly advanced baby babbles. Our response to such
episodes is to try to be patient by letting her throw her tantrum until she
calms down. The person to whom I was telling the story said that our approach
was completely inappropriate and that the only way to cure the problem was to
give our daughter a taste of her own medicine by sinking our own teeth into her
arm. They walk among us.
What on earth makes people feel the need to
impose their own ways of life onto those around them through the use of
critical disapproval? From what dark place do those hurtful comments emanate? I
initially thought that this patronising phenomenon was contained to a couple of
snide remarks around my suburban braai, but this virus appears to permeate all
demographics. Parents across the spectrum feel the need to justify decisions
that they have made in the lives of their children by condemning the choices made
by others. My other example of the accountant that looks down on those that
renounce the path of commerce is both farcical and contradictory. Although
accountants generally do fairly well financially through hard work and
perseverance, they sometimes rue the foregone freedom and creativity of the
lifestyles that they once rejected.
In both cases that I have described, it
appears that the desire to condescendingly criticise others, stems from our
need to rationalise decisions that we have made in our lives. We long to ease
the insecurities that have built up in our rather fragile emotional existences.
What we need to realise is that insecurity is prominent in even the most
extroverted individuals. When we cut them down in an attempt to justify our own
decisions, we only create hurt and resentment that will probably just be
transferred to the next anxious soul who is trying to make sense of the hand
that they have been dealt.
In my opinion, there are not enough people
in this world who make the effort to listen, to simply listen. Asking somebody
to tell his or her story without feeling the need to explain why yours is
better is far more powerful than the alternative. You never know. The world may
place more value on the contribution made by your ears than that made by your
mouth, teeth notwithstanding.
If my little monologue has done nothing
more than to demonstrate my ability to criticise critical people, please feel
free to disregard my hypocritical rants and simply continue on your quest to be
more of the person that the world needs you to be. Nonetheless, my hope is that
this little piece prompts you to take a moment to consider whether that person
looks or sounds anything like you.
You have to love Australia's 'Winning Culture'. Meeting an Aussie last night and getting through the typical first question of 'what do you do?' with my 'I write a blog on happiness and learning' response, he responded, 'Right buddy, get ready to take some notes' and handed me a Pure Blonde. All the chaps standing around were in the burgeoning family stage. Happiness and learning was focussed on their mini mes.
In truth, I am not smack in the middle of the 'thinking about happiness' demographic. That is probably when you have hours to sit around and not many responsibilities. The majority of my buddies are battening down the hatches. Between work and kiddies under six, there isn't much time for anything else. You know what they say about raising children though, 'The first 18 years are the hardest'. In one of the most entertaining looks at happiness I have come across, Daniel Gilbert talks about the challenges to happiness posed in the child raising years. I am a big fan of little people, but I know that I am in the position of being able to feed them sugar and hand them back as soon as they start wriggling. Many of my friends have that crazed, when-will-sleep-return look in their eyes.
Quite a few of these mommies and daddies have been keen to write guest posts, but finding an hour when energy and quiet coincide is tough. In Australia I am told new Mums get an hour with a social worker shortly after the baby gets home. They give them a bit of coaching and then they are on their own. The question I have been wondering about is whether this is indeed a case of just getting through the tough times, or whether there is a better way to give new parents support. All the points I write about when it comes to happiness - exercise, diet, relaxation, breathing, positive thinking, relationships and flow - get put under real pressure in those first few years.
The documentary 'Happy' looks at co-housing in Denmark. I wonder if that would help? The traditional 'graduation' to a nuclear family leaves families struggling between balancing breadwinning and child rearing with two adults to share the tasks. This means both are likely busy all the time. More than all the time. In the old days when people lived close together you would have had support from family and friends. For all the benefits of a global world, it does stretch support networks. I, as an example, am a more than willing baby sitter but the people I care about are scattered across the globe. Plus I look like Tom Hanks from Castaway so some mothers would be understandably scared. The beard does seem to fascinate little people though.
Co-housing may include a few young families and some people at latter stages in their lives. You get the advantage of granny wisdom, you may have teenage babysitters, you can share cooking and cleaning duties, and hopefully simply have a little bit more time.
For most of my friends in this situation, it seems their wishes are actually quite simple - a little more sleep.
This awesome clip of Messi when he was 10 years old is fun to watch even for people who haven't got the football bug like me. His control of the ball is incredible even when he isn't much bigger than it. The final minute of the clip shows him doing a drill, or at least something he could practice for hours by himself that isn't 'playing football'. I would love to see a time-lapsed clip of the even younger Messi learning to do this. What inspired him to put the hours in?
My friend Stuart and I had a debate after I had read 'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother'. I have long been impressed by cultures that have education deep in their bones. Amy Chua tells her controversial story of bringing her daughters up in a very hardcore way to become fantastically talented at very specific disciplines. Despite the difficulty of the upbringing, and not being sure I wanted it for myself, I was a jealous enough of the remarkable talents that intense learning can bring that I wished I wanted it for myself. Stuart was less forgiving of the Tiger Mother, and less concerned about the rise of competition from individuals with that work ethic. In fact, he is less forgiving more generally of parents determining their children's paths. A liberal education would expose children to lots of different things and as they grow up, shifting attention as children do - eventually they will find the thing they love and pursue that bitterness free. Andre Agassi, for example, is famously bitter about his path having been chosen, even though it did work out rather well in his case. I haven't read 'breaking through' - the Polgar sisters story yet, but came across them in Malcolm Gladwell's Outliers.
'Polgar and her two younger sisters, Grandmaster Judit and International MasterSofia, were part of an educational experiment carried out by their father László Polgár, who sought to prove that children could make exceptional achievements if trained in a specialist subject from a very early age. "Geniuses are made, not born," was László's thesis.[10] He and his wife Klara educated their three daughters at home, with chess as the specialist subject.' Source: wikipedia
The difference in their story from that of Chua is that the experiment involved creating a family environment where Chess was fun. From the way it is described by Gladwell, there was more carrot and less stick, and so less conflict. I don't think the goal is to have to create geniuses, but rather learning how to instill a love of learning. It seems the Polgar experiment achieved that.
I suspect Stuart is right about allowing freedom being more appealing. The world is skewed to specialists at the moment, but perhaps the future belongs to creative individuals and being creative is about connecting the dots.
I am attempting to learn a few things at the moment. Some more from scratch than others. I did try learning the piano before (1998-2001) but gave up when study commitments took over. My attempts at guitar were less structured and much less significant and never really got anywhere. I am very interested in the first 100 hours of learning a new skill. Mostly because of the barrier it presents. My fingers feel like infants. I get bored quickly despite my very real long term desire to connect to music. I haven't had the time before to push through this. Reading an article by de Botton on Melanie Klein (1882 -1960), it seemed to capture the initial emotion of learning a new skill.
In relation to this mother, all the infant experiences are moments of intense pain and then, for reasons it can’t understand, moments of equally intense pleasure - Alain de Botton on Melanie Klein
The infants trauma is clearly far more intense. As an adult I know the end of my world hasn't come because my fingers won't do what they are supposed to. But it is easy to give up. Another de Botton article talked about the changing attitudes towards parenting and the theories of Donald Winnicott.
It must have felt very odd, in 1954, to tune into BBC Radio at prime time and hear someone, with a gentle, intelligent voice, arguing incisively against the idea that babies cry ‘to get attention’ - Alain de Botton on Donald Winnicott
I think there is something to learning in the First 100 hours that is similar to parenting. Parents have learnt that a child is not inherently evil when they misbehave or attention seeking when they cry. As adults learning new skills, perhaps we need to be similarly kind when learning new things that just because we can't do it, and our 'fingers won't listen', doesn't mean we are bad at that skill. We need to push through our infancy to the stage where we can play.
Stuart points to this article on Chinese Mothers. It is a rather hectic account of the differences between Western and Chinese parenting according to Amy Chua. She has a book which is about to be released called 'Battle Hymn of the Tiger Mother'.
This reminded me of a reference to an essay called 'What is it like to be a bat' by Thomas Nagel. Nagel argues that you can't imagine what it is like to be a bat. You can imagine what it is like to for you to do bat like things, but not what it is like to actually BE a bat.
'Our own experience provides the basic material for our imagination, whose range is therefore limited. It will not help to try and imagine that one has webbing on one's arms, which enables one to fly around at dusk and dawn catching insects in one's mouth; that one has very poor vision and perceives the surrounding world by a system of reflected high frequency sounds; and that one spends the day by hanging upside down by one's feet in the attic. In so far as I can imagine that (which is not very far), it only tells me what it would be like for me to behave as a bat behaves. But that is not the question. I want to know what it is like for a bat to be a bat.' - Thomas Nagel
Empathy is important, but empathy is limited. By being empathetic you try get into the head and experience of others - but that is only half the trip. Westerners and Chinese are both people, so it clearly not as difficult as empathising with a bat! But you can never completely understand any other human (including girlfriends and exes) through their own eyes. I can imagine the different response to Chua's piece. Some will read it and think she is crazed and draconian. Others will read it and think she is on the money. Some will contextualize it and say that they understand why she thinks the way that she does given her upbringing - but that she is wrong. Everything will be based on their own world views.
Why does this matter? Some people use culture as an excuse for behaviour others consider truly immoral. An obvious example being the abuse of women in some cultures. How on earth do we strip out the stuff we don't, and can't understand, (because we will never be able to truly see through another's eyes other than seeing their experiences through our own context) from the stuff we really should be kicking up a storm about and changing?
In this particular case, I think it is tough to argue that what Chua is doing is wrong. I suspect that it is just a different approach to parenting. But, while a little jealous of the level of dedication and achievement it can lead to, I can't quite wrap my head around the question 'What is it like to be the child of a Chinese Mother?'.
The nature versus nurture debate is an old one. Though I am no expert, it seems logical to me that both play a big roll. A friend of mine who was adopted at birth is one of the brightest guys I know. When he turned 21, his biological parents were allowed to contact him and he discovered that one was a chemical engineer and the other a software engineer. Not a big surprise.
And yet obviously, no matter who your parents are, life's experiences shape you in many ways. In 'Outliers', Malcolm Gladwell talks of the influence of communities and opportunities that shaped the lives of many great people. Being born in New York versus being born in Kwandengezi matters. Warren Buffet refers to it as the 'Ovarian Lottery'.
But sometimes your responses are a reaction to rather than a continuation of. In spending time with my Grandmother today, she spoke of her Grandfather who came out from England with a BA from Oxford. He decided to take his kids out of school at age 12 to work on the farm, and so their education was in milking cows and building things. My Gran's Dad became a skilled butcher, a builder of bridges ... and a rolling stone. My Gran went to `about 20 different schools'. My Gran was also one of 9 kids. Her brothers may have been tradesmen like their Dad, but they also made other decisions. The brother closest to my Gran in age decided that unlike his Dad, he was going to work for one company... he wasn't going to be a rolling stone. My Gran also made a 'going another way decision'. She just had three kids thank you very much.
Another friend told me a common saying... If you want to marry a girl, take a look at her mother. That's what she will be like in 30 years. Also, take a look at how her parents interact. I reckon there is some, but not complete truth, in that (for chaps as well as gals, and fathers as well as mothers). We get a lot from 'the ovarian lottery', but we also get to make a lot of choices along the way.
I also think that most/all of the people who read this post won more in the lottery than 95% of the World. I think we get to pick from what we want, and are accountable for where we end up.
Paul Bloom's 5th lecture in his course is on the development of thought, or 'what it is like to be a baby'. I am not going to embed this lecture because it was rather frustrating to watch. Rather frustrating because it was likely very entertaining to actually be there.
They don't show any multi-media used in the lecture in the footage. This obviously makes it administratively easier because they don't have to get permission to use copyrighted materials. But it also makes it very annoying when the lecturer has been creative enough to use lots of variety. Variety of which you can't be a part.
Anyway... it was interesting nonetheless.
Much like the other parts of the course, what I enjoy is the constant doubt about the theories put forward. Language and confidence go hand in hand. If every time you say something you say, 'I think that maybe we should try to do this, I don't know, what do you think?' I would imagine that you would train yourself to doubt yourself. If instead you say, 'I have thought about this. We should do this. Any comments?'... I think the result will be different.
Both request feedback on an idea, the one comes across much more confidently. Which is the best way? You may say it is semantics. It is, but if our brains are so easily rearranged and we spend most of our day talking to ourselves in our heads, then repeating the second one is likely to make you a more confident person.
Thing is... we are not normally correct. And when it comes to children and ideas about children this becomes blatantly obvious. People have been raising children for a long time. Comes with the territory of being human. Talk to a lot of parents and they have it cracked. This is the way to raise a child, the way the other parents are doing it is wrong.
This is a very natural response. Of course you are going to believe you are doing it right and others are wrong. Of course you are going to snigger and talk behind peoples back about how they are raising their children in the wrong way. Because if you say, 'I am not sure... but hey let's give this way a go', or even 'I have thought about it a lot and have no idea, but I am going to try this'... you are admitting that you might be doing the wrong thing.
Raising children is a sensitive case, but in general I don't think we are rewarded for showing the necessary level of doubt and we are far too confident in our opinions.
Don't get me wrong, I think that it is important to frame answers confidently, and to think through things as best you can yourself before getting other opinions... But constant recognition that you are probably wrong is for mine the best way to get closer to being right more often.
PARTY Zoe: Dad, I’m throwing a party tonight, so you’ll have to stay in your room. Don’t worry, though—one of my friends brought over his father for you to play with. His name is Comptroller Brooks and he’s roughly your age, so I’m sure you’ll have lots in common. I’ll come check on you in a couple of hours. (Leaves.) Comptroller Brooks: Hello. Mr. Higgins: Hello. Comptroller Brooks: So . . . um . . . do you follow city politics? Mr. Higgins: Not really. Comptroller Brooks: Oh. (Long pause.) (Zoe returns.) Zoe: I forgot to tell you—I told my friends you two would perform for them after dinner. I’ll come get you when it’s time. (Leaves.) Comptroller Brooks: Oh, God, what are we going to do? Mr. Higgins: I know a dance . . . but it’s pretty humiliating. Comptroller Brooks: Just teach it to me.
Yesterday I went to a party at Robin Hanson's. Megan McArdle, Bryan Caplan, Will Wilkinson, Tyler and many others were in attendance, as was my 6-year old.
"How was the party?," my wife asked the 6-year old.
"It was like this," he answered, "Blah, blah, blog. My blog, blah, blah, blah. Blog, blah, blog."
lol ... By the way... these people's blogs are actually pretty good... worth reading
