Monday, January 31, 2011

It's all in the Balance

I constantly think that I am doing too little. Not accomplishing enough. That everyone I admire is more productive, active, radical, inspired and on top of their shit than I am. No matter how much is on my plate, I feel like I am lazy, and, as I pile more on, and am able to finish less and less, I become even more critical of myself.

I don't think that I am alone in this spiral. In some ways I think that it is many layers deep. It is a cultural thing, a gender thing, a mother thing, a subcultural thing. It is because of my parents, my education, my assumed "gifted" status, and then the resulting assumption of my "laziness" because of my disinterest in what was being offered up. There are almost too many factors to count. But I have not yet figured out the balance.

There is so much I want to do in this lifetime, and the time is short. I have a hard time saying no to opportunities. And then am often depressed about how half-assed I do everything.

I am writing all of this on this blog, instead of my "personal" blog just to lay it on the table. I am overwhelmed and, if it is possible, overinspired. But how can one really complain about that?!

I keep this blog about youth liberation, and the re-thinking of childhood partially because I am using it as a way to process things I am researching for college. But it is not FOR college. It is for me. This is the work that I do in my head, in my heart, in my journal, in discussions with friends, in my interactions with my children and partner, everyday. This work is vitally important to me and my purpose as a revolutionary. I believe in the revolution of childhood. I believe that we can change the world for the better. I believe that we can exist as a culture in more sane and healthy ways, and that this is my piece of that struggle.

I am appreciative of the parameters that I have set up around this project that make it possible for me to count it as credit towards school. I genuinely appreciate the fact that I attend a university that has a way for this sort of liberatory learning to be acknowledged. But it is also frustrating. Life does not move on a schedule, and rarely do children's needs, or opportunities for adventure and growth fit neatly into a syllabus.

I am struggling to follow my gut about how to spend my time with my kids, and find inspiration and fulfillment for myself, and still "accomplish" what needs to be done for me to be a college student.

So there. I said it.

I love love love what I am doing with this project, and want to continue. I also love the fact that my two two-years-olds and I just spent the most amazing two weeks on tour playing music, traveling over 2,000 miles with the most beautiful, inspiring group of folks, even if I didn't do a lick of "schoolwork" along the way.

Here's hoping I can dive back in without the weight of artificial expectations and continue to find the joy that I have found in this project thus far.

Sunday, January 2, 2011

Run Away, Bunny!!!

This morning while trying to numb my sinus headache with a cup of black coffee, my tiniest of tinies, who we shall call Magpie, rushed into the living room carrying a book for me to read. "Bunny book! Bunny book!"

"What book is that?" I asked, not recognizing the cover.

When she handed me the book I realized that it was from a pile of books that were meant to be returned to the abyss, or the bookstore, whichever I could get to first. The Runaway Bunny by Margaret Wise Brown and illustrated by Clement Hurd was a book that had been given to us in a box of hand-me-downs, and I briefly commented on in a blog post many months back.

Brown and Hurd are the creators of the classic Goodnight Moon, a staple at bedtime in many homes, ours included. I thought that I would revisit the "Bunny book" by reading it to Magpie and Sweetpea, and see why it was that I love the former and was banishing the latter.

The first page of the book reads as follows:

"Once there was a little bunny who wanted to run away. So he said to his mother, "I am running away." "If you run away," said his mother, "I will run after you. For you are my little bunny."

Ok. I get the premise. As a mother, the thought of my children leaving the safety and love of my embrace is challenging. If I think about it happening anytime soon, I would be a wreck. But even if when I think of them growing up and leaving home, for a night or off into their own adventures, I get a little choked up. This is not a new or unusual thought for a mother. We love our babies and we want them to be safe and cared for.

There are endless children's books with this premise, and they fall into a couple of categories. First, a book like Guess How Much I Love You by Sam McBratney and illustrated by Anita Jeram, which is all about the boundless love of a caregiver for their small companion. In this book, and books like it, the emphasis is on the depth and breadth of the love one feels for their child. To assure the child that this love will be with them wherever they go, and be there when they return.

The Runaway Bunny is the kids book version of "Every Breath You Take" by the Police. "Dude! (or Mom!) Just give me a little space, ok?"

Here is how our reading of the story went this chilly, new year morning...

"If you run after me, " said the little bunny, "I will become a fish in a trout stream and I will swim away from you"
"If you become a fish in a tout stream," said his mother, "I will become a fisherman and I will fish for you."

Me: "If YOU were a little bunny and you ran away from me and became a fish in a trout stream, I would sit at the shore and dangle my toes in the water so you could see them wiggling and find your way back, if you'd like!"(And I promise not to try and spear you with a fish hook cause that is creepy and would hurt your body."

" If you become a fisherman," said the little bunny, "I will become a rock on the mountain, high above you."
"If you become a rock on the mountain high above me," said his mother, "I will be a mountain climber, and I will climb to where you are."

Me: "If YOU want to be a rock on the mountain high above me, I will look out my window and marvel at how the sunsets make you glow all orange and gold in the evening. And if you invite me to, I will climb the mountain to sit beside you and listen to the songs you sing to the moon."

Ok... You get it. It goes on like this. The little bunny becomes a flower, and a bird, a tightrope walker, a little boy and, most disturbingly, a boat to which his mother says,


"If you become a sailboat and sail away from me," said his mother, "I will become the wind and blow you where I want you to go."

In the end, the bunny, defeated, decides that he might as well just stay a little bunny.

I think that this book speaks to our ideas as a culture about our relationship with our children in a more overt way than many that are actually saying the same thing. We see children as our property. We don't see children as autonomous creatures with desires and ideas of their own. In my opinion, this is one of the most destructive things we do to ourselves and our futures.

For the first part of our lives, when we are learning how to be a part of our family, and our community, and ultimately, the world, we are actually taught that our needs and ideas are unimportant and a burden. We are not really listened to, or communicated with, and especially if we are engaged in mainstream education, taught that the most important thing to do is obey and follow the rules.

Then, we are spewed out into the world with no real sense of our own identity or skills of critical thinking or how to get our needs met while also respecting the needs of those around us. It seems to me that these would be the key skills to a functioning society.

The "children as property" idea seems so archaic, but it is still enforced as upheld in so many ways. I feel great pain anytime a see a child being interacted with by an adult in a way where their needs are not being taken into consideration. What if in situations where we as adults have a need or a want that is different than the child's need or want, we stopped and imagined what it was like for us as a child in a similar situation. How would we have wanted someone to interact with us. Often, my desire for the situation wins out over my kids, mostly when I have an understanding of the consequence of their actions that they cannot yet grasp. Running into the street, or eating nothing but raisins for an entire day are a couple of example of situations in which I said no and made a different plan.

Ultimately our job as parents is to help our children go off into the world and leave us. Hopefully, if we have done our jobs, they will make healthy and smart decisions. Hopefully, if we have loved them and built communicative relationships with them, they will be exited to return home and share stories of their adventures with us.

This book hits a deep nerve with me. I don't want my kids to feel like they are just extensions of me, or are in any way my "property." I do understand the desire to have them feel safe and loved and want to come home to me. But it seems like threatening them with stalking, and tracking them down if they try to get away from me is not the best way to make this happen.

So, you poor little bunny, you will have to fight your battle with your mama on someone else's bookshelf. Or, the recycling bin. We'll see....