Attachment Parenting

How do you feel when you look at this picture? If you are like me, this is your reaction:

***shocked, slightly disgusted face ***.

If your child can stand on a stool and breastfeed, haven’t you crossed the line!?!

The reason why I react in this way is because this parenting style, called the attachment parenting method, is not in my western christian culture – although at times, it certainly felt like it was going towards it.

Flash back 8 years ago when I had my first child.

Although becoming a mother brought me immense joy, I vividly remember all the dos and donts that I struggled with. In christian circles, we sometimes make the mistake of taking a widely accepted principle in our culture, reacting against it, opposing it and making it a godliness issue, not truly reflecting on what the Bible says about it. I wrestled with breastfeeding, routine, spanking, staying-at-home, homeschooling… you name it! I was told that breastfeeding is godly, that a lack of routine will lead to ungodliness, that no spanking is disobeying God’s word,  that working (instead of being a stay-at-home mum) might show that I do not love my children the way I should and that homeschooling is the only christian way to educate my offsprings…

As I read about attachment parenting, I realised that my reaction towards it is no different that the people saying that homeschooling is a mark of better parenting – read godly. I pass judgement on that parenting method simply because it is different from what I’m used to do in my christian culture. Some aspects of the attachment parenting make me feel uncomfortable but are they are ungodly? I cringe in my chair at the sight of a 6 year old feeding from his mom’s breast as much as my own family cringes at me homeschooling my children (They’re getting used to the idea slowly). As long as those practicing attachment parenting do not imply that their way is the only way to raise psychologically healthy children, I say breast-feed-away!

As a christian though, I would want to be careful that my children do not become the ‘be all and end all’ of my life but the Bible has never blamed any parenting methods for turning our children into idols (Rats!!! It would have made parenting so much easier!). If I adhered to that method of parenting, I would want to be careful not to alienate my fellow christian mothers who won’t or can’t do the same, by making them feel that their choice is only second best. I would want to absolutely be certain that, whatever I advise, (not the Lord), does not add any unnecessary burdens on other mums.

The driving principle of motherhood should be love: Love for God - Not love for what I feel comfortable with according to my culture. After reading and digesting this article, I was challenged on the view I hold of people that do things differently. I was reminded that in Christ we are free.

Inside the box that God has defined, I am free to make my own decisions, whether they go against the trend of the day and the culture of the time.

 

Letter from a mother…

This past Sunday was Mother’s Day.

Following my post on  (un)traditions, a friend of mine greeted me and jokingly asked if I was going to celebrate Mother’s Day in my untraditional way. Absolutely, I winked. The way we celebrate Mother’s Day is exactly the same way that we celebrate Valentine’s Day or Father’s Day. No plans, outing, gifts or gathering.

And yet, I confess that  I have the desire to feel special on that day. If  my children do not tell me how much they love me and how grateful they are that I am their mum, I feel cheated. I do. I shamefully admit that I once again feel the pressure to conform - burdening  my husband to make sure the kids have done their picture in love.

Looking at the history of where Mother’s Day come from (ahem… its main influence comes from America – Queen of traditions) and particularly how it developed in France, good old Wiki writes that while it started in the early 1900s as a national celebration honoring the mothers of large families (at the time France was alarmed by the low birthrate), in the 50s “the celebration lost all its patriotic and natalist ideologies, and became heavily commercialized”. How sad…

I absolutely resent the fact that my family is compelled to demonstrate their affection for me on the third Sunday of May – worse, that I get caught in it, as if it mattered in any way.

Bring the christian element in the celebration and it becomes catastrophic. The usher at church who wishes a Happy Mother’s day to the shocked 16 year old girl or my childless friend who wishes me a Happy Mother’s Day leaving me to blabber some incomprehensible response…

I’m linking a post that I read from a different blog. Simply, humbly and beautifully written (thank you, Amy Young).

How do we honor mothers without hurting the women who can not fit?

Maybe privately…

 

Un-traditional

I read that family traditions instill into your children your family values, strengthen family identity, connect generations, build great memories and make us stop in the bustle of the busy day to remember the important things in life.

We are not a family with traditions.

If someone asks me what our traditional “insert celebration here” looks like, I would be at a loss for words. Of course we celebrate the christian festivals for their christian meaning, and like typical kids growing up in a christian family, our children know the meaning of Christmas and Easter, details and all. But mention the word ‘tradition’ and my hair stands up in this fashion:

The reason I look like  a cat being electrocuted when I think of christian family traditions is probably because, while we do not have them, I have felt the peer pressure of having a craft ready for every occasion and an appropriate way to display it (the possibilities are endless). I have felt the fear that my kids are missing out, the fear that their creativity is not explored, their knowledge not expanded, their spiritual horizons narrowed. I panicked, I accused, I banned, ridiculed and begged (#how christians react to their insecurities)

I go through such a range of emotions because I allowed other mums (through their window shopping display) to dictate the standard of what my family should look like. The danger in comparing yourself to others is that there will always be someone ‘being more’ or ‘being less’. The comparison trap either leads to pride or despair. Personally, if I’m going to compare our “christianness” according to the activities other families do (be it crafts, songs, meals, dances or treasure hunts), then I can not measure up. Not only do I not have the creative energy for it, but I also lack the inclination for it - I couldn’t be bothered to be bothered.

So why do I have sweaty palms just thinking about December and April? The truth is that, if I’m being led by my emotions (and particularly fear), then my motives are wrong. I do not want to do anything out of fear, but rather out of conviction. If I am convicted that my kids are going to be worse off without the baking of the resurrection cookies, then I must do it. If I am convicted that receiving gifts for Christmas will take them further away from knowing Jesus, I must take the presents away.

So I calmed down.

Under the regular and rightful reminder of my husband that we resist peer pressure and submit to God’s Word only, and with the reassurance from older friends with godly grown up kids, I slowly realize that we are the family that we are, not carefully planning out the craft for Christmas, but being intentional in loving the Lord just as faithfully. Isn’t that enough?

We don’t do crafts together for Easter and we don’t bake together for Christmas. But together, among other things and in different ways, we love Jesus, we serve Him, we talk to Him and about Him. Together we fail Him and apologize to Him. And if these are the only precious memories that my kids will treasure one day, I will consider it a priceless blessing.

We are un-traditional and I make peace with it.

The day she cut it…

After months of threatening, bargaining, crying and begging, we both agreed that it was time. Time to let go of the long mass of hair that crowned her beautiful head. Yes. Léa had her hair cut.
Here is the before during and after.

What? No school this year?

Nope. This year we decided to homeschool. 

When we finally took the decision in the middle of last year, I yielded my husband’s good advice and did not advertise it. My heart wanted to share it with everyone I bumped into, but my head told me not to. I am aware that it can be a divisive topic and I certainly did not want to be that. So hush hush I kept it, until it was time to reveal our intentions. First to my mum (what do you mean ‘school at home??’ ), then to my husband’s mum (‘Homeschooling? I’m not so sure…’ ), then to my close friends (yes, they are still close friends) and lastly to strangers who asked (‘All THREE of your children?’).

Nonetheless, half a year after taking that decision and almost a term into the reality of it, I think it’s appropriate that it becomes official, i.e. Facebook status and blog!! One day, when I’m old and senile and my children want to know when and why and how and who and any other ‘wh’ questions regarding their homeschooling time, I will be able to say ‘Well my poppet, I … I… can’t remember. Just read our blog…’

So when? … It started when she was in Grade 3, he was in Grade 2 and he was in grade R. It’s easy enough because they are still so little that I don’t lose my sleep over their next maths lesson. And ‘when’, just to reassure my mum who might be freaking out, it’s e-ve-ry-day mum!! Counting, writing, reading, spelling, grammaring…Except some fridays but with good excuses to learn about something wider that the walls of our house, some Mondays because Killian goes to a technology club. Every now and then on a Tuesday because we run errands; and occasionally we skip Thursday because we don’t feel like working. Otherwise, EVERY other day!! (Just kidding mamaaaaannn!!!)

Why? … Because I had enough of saying ‘quickly’ and ‘vite vite’ to them, morning to evening, monday to friday. I wanted to switch to ‘just relax’ (of course it’s not all of the ‘whys’ but it certainly was a part weighing on my heart).

Who?… Of course my 3 children. Someone asked me if I had other kids as well, so I said ‘No, I didn’t start a school, I started homeschool’. That aside, the ‘who’ includes much more than me and my kids. I love outsourcing help, they make their life richer and mine easier, starting with art, music, wood work…

How?… With a complete curriculum that does all the work for me so that during the day I teach my kids, and in the evening, I can spend time with my husband ( and our housemate at the moment, wink wink…)

And voila! This is the summarized neat version of what is happening inside our walls this year. Emphasize on “neat” of course because the reality is always so much more murky Sometimes the ‘when’ is far too often, I wonder ‘why’, I can’t stand the ‘who’ and I’ve forgotten “how’.

But to finish on a positive note, I really enjoy homeschooling my kids and they seem to enjoy it too. And if only for these reasons, I am glad.

It’s 4.30am and I’m ready to celebrate. I’m se7en.

I'm 2 and really cheeky!

Seven years ago, after 38weeks of growing process and a mere labour of 3 hours (don’t hate!), he was born. He screamed loud, already, and was an overall of 2,7kgs. One of the first things that our pediatrician said after examining him was that we should have an hearing test done to check if the unusual shape of his ears was not connected to a loss of hearing. We might consider plastic surgery for his ears when he’s older, he added.

I know, if you’ve met Killian, you might ask yourself what am I talking about? You probably didn’t notice much of his ears – it’s because there is nothing wrong with them. Seven years later, I don’t consider plastic surgery but I often wonder if he can hear me!

I'm about 4 and like to be different

My little boy is turning 7 this year and this is altogether overwhelming and absolutely frightening.

As I’m writing this post, I’m trying to think back on the year and capture key moments, key new abilities, key new growth. Things that will be meaningful to put down in a post. But growth is slow and unchanging to the naked eye. If I look back at October last year, what do I see that has changed? Quite honestly probably not so much.

He’s grown a few centimeters, he’s learnt to read, count and wear shoes from morning to lunch time.

He has passed the test of school: will my child cope? I was prepared to see him struggle, to see him not wanting to do the work but the Lord has been gracious; he hasn’t displayed any of this. But Killian does things differently. What takes Léa 10 minutes the traditional way, Killian prefers the unconventional approach: jump on the couch, balance on a head stand – why, you don’t do your homework like that? Also, why stick to  ’boring books’ adapted to your reading level when you can go straight to the thick chapter books – only to leave them in the basket for 2 weeks realizing bitterly that you can’t read them yet – He still likes to pretend that he can though, oh proud one!

Killian is such a paradox to describe. He is loud, rough, overly energetic and overly physical. He’s aggressive and can be inappropriate. He struggles to control himself, hears but doesn’t listen and will defiantly fight. He has perfected ‘the look of death’. He’s impulsive and intensely emotional. He does not respond to normal punishment and often leaves me helpless and hopeless.

“I never!” is his most used words. He argues with me about what time it is and even when proven wrong, his pride will still stick to him like velcro. Apologising is not his strength. However, wound his heart and he is reduced to a pile of sorrowful tears. No pride, no shame, he will cry you a river. Not quick at apologizing but very quick to forgive.

He’s a bit like a tortoise: hard on the outside but soft and gooey on the inside. I loved that mental picture of him today. At school, boys don’t like girls, they don’t play with them and won’t touch anything pink. But today, for his birthday, Léa drew a picture for him and asked her teacher if she could go and give it to him. When she arrived in his class, his eyes went big and they **hugged** …

Big smile!

He’s often too much to cope with. Killian is too much.

Too much clumsiness. He is Clumsy smurf.

Too much anger. “How can you say it’s half past seven when the long hand is on past 6 and the short one is on past 7, you’re talking ridiculous” from Killian to his mum!

Too much charm. Have you looked at his big chestnut eyes…

Too much speed. Thump! Tttttrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrrr Blop! is the first sound we hear in the morning: Killian jumping from the top bunk bed, speeding through the passage and landing furiously into our bed!

Too much muscle. Not enough fat!

Too much care and compassion. He is devastated that M Jackson will not be in heaven and wants to give ALL his money to the poor – all his 50 rands.

I'm now 7 and I can hold my balance!

Too much prohibited behavior. Searching every cupboard to find his birthday gifts, lying about it, saying he only just glanced, only to later confess that he had a proper long look at it.

Too much energy. Gym, karate, running, swimming. What about sitting?

Too much courage and too many fears. Dogs and dark are still making him scream but give him a 12 year old boy and he will stand up to him to defend the cause of the weak.

Too much anxiety. Not enough nails to bite.

Too many demands. Matt, you must come with me to my room. Mama, you must stir my milkshake coz you know I don’t like the yaki stuff. Lea, you must play with me…

But overall, too much love. Sharing his own birthday chocolate with everyone.

Of such has been life with Killian for the past seven years. Seven years that would not have been possible without the Lord’s faithfulness at carrying us through those times where it felt like there was no hope.

But there is always hope in the Lord. Hope for everyone – Hope for the weak, the weary, the poor and the rich, the outcast and the popular, and hope for the wonderfully made 7 year old ADHD boy in my house.

I love you THIS big my boy!!!! Keep surprising me!!

Proudly Tidy!

The day he came back from school with a smile larger than his own cheeks

Proudly Tidy

This is a not an achievement award – actually, no, this IS an achievement award. But this is not a certificate that will open the doors of a big school. This is a piece of paper that brought immense sense of confidence in this little body. When I saw that his certificate was a “Tidiness Certificate”, I was puzzled. Killian is not the neatest boy you would find – quite the opposite. Why wash your hands before you eat, even when you played in the sandpit? Why wipe your mouth, even if you have a mix of chocolate and oats all the way to your eyebrows?  Should your pants be tucked into your underpants and your shirt be buttoned ‘monday’ with ‘tuesday’?

“Waste of time!” he cries out. So many things to build, pull, throw, catch… and just not enough time.

But, according to his teacher, he has worked really hard at not only keeping his desk tidy (meaning not hiding everything under his writing plank – the best hideout ever!) but also at everything related to ‘neat’: his handwriting, his spacing between words, his cutting and pasting… all these mundane tasks that are too demanding.

So with a big heart and a huge smile, he proudly displayed his hard work harvest.

Now to put these newly acquired skills into practice at home: tidying the room, making the bed, looking like a civilized child… Oh what the heck, I’m proud of my little Gavroche!!

The last of his kind

It is done. Matty lost his first tooth. It does feel like the little bit left of my baby is slowly falling away, one tooth at a time.

I had no warning, no time to get ready for it. Killian lost his first tooth months after being 6. Mattéas is only 5 and a few months…

Big hole!!

His cute little teeth, with extra special gaps in between, don’t look very sturdy anyway. So when he came up to me, eating his apple and saying “ma dent is baie sore” (meaning my tooth is very sore; ma dent me fait mal), I wasn’t too surprised to see his tooth dangling front and back and sideways at the slightest touch of his tongue. Moments later, coming back from his shower, proudly wet and naked, holding his tooth in his fingers, he shouted “I lost ma dent!!!” (meaning I lost my tooth).

Proud. Wet. Naked. And toothless.

Bramble Elfglow was Léa’s special fairy – she has now retired. The spirited swashbuckler tells Killian all about his adventures when he fetches his teeth. Matt hoped for Winnie the Pooh to come and deliver a message. But Winnie is far too busy finding Eyeore’s tail to come and collect a tooth. So Bernard the bear, who is a friend of Winnie the Pooh and lives in the same forest as him, came to take the tooth.

As I re-read my letter, I giggle at two things:

☝One, at my lack of inspiration at 10 in the evening. My kids have the habit of losing their teeth on a wednesday at 5 o’clock when we have Bible Study until late. Inevitably, it sends me into frantic panic to find the paper, print the picture and search my brain for something meaningful to write (such as ‘don’t fight with your brother!’).

Bernard the bear writes a letter.

✌Two, at the incredible things that children believe. That a baby bear would come to their bedroom, stick a letter and a photo of himself in their slipper and that noone would hear a thing? But no worries, we put the alarm on in case thieves want to open a window!

However the delight on their face the next morning is priceless for any mum. His best part of the letter is the fact that the paper is dirty because Bernard’s paws are full of honey! (Coincidentally, it is the same aged paper that was used by last year’s pirates that left a letter into one of Killian’s books!!).

So Matty is the last one of his kind. Grown-up teeth are leading the way into big-boy-hood. One tooth at a time.

Guilt-free nothing

Thursday – 5pm.

This is what our afternoon looked like.

If it looks like nothing, it is because we didn’t do anything. We didn’t run from the one place to the next, we didn’t empty our school bags, we didn’t even do our homework (**shocked face**)

We lay on the couch, eating oaties, reading our books and watching the latest Winnie the Pooh movie (which is very funny BTW).

… And not only did we love doing nothing, but we don’t even feel remotely guilty.

Voi-là!!

Teaching opportunities – when to grab them, when not to…

Let's talk about circumcision!

 

 

It is 5 o’clock. Shower time for the kids.

The conversation goes like this.

 

 

Killian: Why does Jesse’s penis stay open like that (demonstration) and mine doesn’t?

Ahaaaaah. Teaching moment. I see circumcision explained. Sign of the old covenant. Sign of the new covenant. Baptism. Promises of the Lord. I see a great moment where we all gather on my bed and the kids listen to my words, nodding in agreement and wonder.

Instead, I get crazy Killian time (a bit like Pumpkin Patch time), laughing his head off and shouting “aaahaaahh, so Jesse is an Israelite!”. Matt is trying to have his penis to stay like that of an Israelite while jumping on my bed and Léa is catching Killian’s jokes, building on them. I catch myself keeping on explaining why we baptise today when I suddenly realize “why am I shouting as I’m talking about the wonderful promises of Jesus!!!!!”. So I kept quiet.

This is what I learnt from this experience.

Tip #1 – Don’t try to have a serious conversation with naked children at 5 o’clock.

Tip #2 – If you’re going to talk about penises, theirs should be covered.

Tip #3 – If you have to shout to cover the background noise, their attention level is not what it should be.

Take it or leave it! Happy teaching!