Things I've been thinking about...

...hysterectomy

...how long it can take to get over something, especially if that something is not acknowledged or dealt with at the time. Decades, sometimes.

...getting off this computer to spend more time with Rowan. I'm thinking just a quick check of emails first and last thing in the day is all that's needed. I don't have any wonderful hand-held devices so unfortunately I do have to switch the computer on to do that.

...how small the new house we will hopefully be moving into is. Where on earth are we going to put everything?

...I haven't heard from my sister for a long time.

People are annoying me again

Yes, well, that's not so unusual is it? But anyway, some of these things happened a little while ago, but they have a habit of going round and round in my head until I write them down and inflict them on everyone else, so I'm just having a little exorcism. Right, who's first?

WOMEN:

Couldn't help notice Jo Frost (aka "supernanny" *puke*) is back on our tellies. Not that I ever watch telly, but we do get the Radio Times for some reason and there she is, waggling her finger in children's faces and dishing out some of the worst advice you will ever hear. What the fuck is it with these childless women (Gina Ford being the other prime example, of course) who nonetheless feel qualified and entitled to barge into families dictating how people, and especially children, should behave? I think there's a huge amount of work there for some top psychologist to unravel. It reminds me, actually, of young midwives. Now, I'm not going to get all draconian and say that only women who actually have children should be allowed to become midwives (or am I? Well maybe, but not today) but there can be few things on this earth more annoying than giving birth, and then having some fresh-faced, fresh out of college, fresh as a daisy, fresh young thing who has clearly never had anything more traumatic than a smear test happen to her nether regions telling you how you should be feeling, and what the baby should be doing. No. Send me someone who has experienced it, not just read about it in books, and then I might listen.

MEN:

Twitter has a lot to answer for. Graham Linehan, as I'm sure you all know, is a well-respected comedy writer (Father Ted, The IT Crowd etc etc). One day he retweeted a mother in law joke, and I called him on it. I called it misogyny, because that's what it is. He came back calling me a "humourless feminist".  He was wrong on both counts and also scored nil for originality. Anyway, I must have hit a nerve because he then tweeted again saying that if I thought that was misogyny, then I had no idea what misogyny was. So, that would be a man telling a woman what misogyny is. I expect shortly after that he popped round to his Afro-Caribbean friends' house to give a short talk and slide show on racism. Honestly, what a plank. But the signs are there, especially in The IT Crowd, where there is evidence that Linehan thinks rape is funny, and also an unhealthy dose of transphobia too, but I was desperately ignoring them because I like Linehan and think that Father Ted is one of the best comedies ever ever. Hmm.

Next, Peter Serafinowizc. Very very funny chap, I thought, and I loved his sketch show. It was the best sketch show I've seen for years actually, but all that is now tainted by his repeated implications on Twitter that he, like his brother-in-law (Linehan) thinks that rape is funny. I did tell him that it's not once, and he sent back a jovial, "Sorry! x" which wasn't really good enough, somehow. Stop making rape jokes, that'll do it.

Stephen Fry. Again. Specifically Stephen Fry on Twitter. Just for generally being a big fucking let down in all areas; his casual misogyny (again!), and his anti-child outbursts. He once threatened to leave Twitter and it was headline news. Fucking hell.

And that is all for this rant. I may be back with a proper post soon, or, I may not. I have no idea because I don't know what's going on *crazed smile*

Would you like to win this?

Would you really?  Really truly?  It's one of my lovely crocheted heart lavender bags, and you could win it, just by popping over here and leaving a comment!  You have until 11th February, and then a winner will be randomly selected and I'll send the heart out to them.  Good luck! :-)

Too much to do...

...I can't stop long on the computer this morning because I have so much going on at the moment and so much to do I need to actually get on with some of it before I can start to feel better. I also thought that writing it all down might help, so here I am for a few minutes.

Things have been upsetting me recently that I wouldn't normally find exactly pleasant, but that don't usually produce such a profound effect. The worst of these was a link somebody posted on Facebook to an article about non-consensual pelvic exams being done to women in hospital while they are under general anaesthetic. The other word for this, which no-one seems to want to use, is 'rape'. I found it hard to even write that sentence without wanting to be sick. I'm not going to go into the reasons why this was triggering for me right now (or, indeed, ever) but suffice to say it was and I kind of spiralled from there into a great state of fed-up-ness and wanting to get off the internet altogether, for good. As it was I just left Facebook, yet again, and came back when things were a little better.

I'm also getting very frustrated because I have so many ideas, and half a notebook full of sketches and scribbles, for things to make for the shop, but I can't seem to actually get on and make any of them. Either I look at them and they no longer appeal, or I have a go and they don't turn out perfectly and then I give up. I'm having a strange, stagnant phase, which I really hope doesn't last too long. Of course, there are always the hearts to fall back on, and I expect I'll be making a good few more of those before I manage to really move onto anything else, just so I have something to make that I know will turn out right and I can practically do in my sleep. So, a few more garlands etc first. Good, that's that sorted. See, writing it down really does help!

Also, we recently started the search properly for a job for DH in Scotland. It actually sounds quite promising and we have been in touch with people who have assured us there is plenty of his type of work and they might even be able to chuck some work his way once we get up there, which is brilliant. Knowing that we were being thrown out of this house this year (the landlord is selling up), we applied for a council house in the local area some time ago, while we were still dithering about whether to go to Scotland or not. Last week we were told we had been nominated for a property in the next village along from where we are now, and which sounds pretty perfect. We are thrilled, and have filled out the application form they sent us in record time and I posted it back to them yesterday. This is not an offer of the property, but will hopefully turn into one once we have jumped through all their hoops. The thing is, you see, we just want to get out of this house as fast as possible, and out from under the shadow of my mother (who is also the landlord). So the plan is to do our best to get this house we've been nominated for, even if we're only there for a couple of months or whatever, before going to Scotland. Also, I'm not sure if it still works the same way it used to, but I think after you've been in a council property for so long (6 months last I heard), you can put in for a transfer, which could be another way of getting to Scotland if we don't manage it before then.

One of the hoops we have to jump through is an inspection of the property we live in now to, and I quote the lady I spoke to on the phone, "check there's no doors hanging off their hinges or anything," - in other words, to check we have looked after the property while we've been living in it. So, my big job now (and it is huge, believe me) is a massive clean and tidy up of the place ready for the inspection, which we think will be quite soon. We know from friends' and family's experience that once the council offer you something it all moves very fast. DH's parents were only given 4 days' notice, after having been on the list for 6 years, that they had a property and they had to move! So........today I start the clean-up operation - windows that haven't been cleaned for years, wallpaper that's hanging off walls needing ripping off or tidying somehow and on and on. We have to get to Asda again for some of those big plastic tub things to try and keep Rowan's toys a bit tidier. There's just so much to do, but I'm going to start with the wall behind the dining table which is covered in paint splashes from our various crafty/arty sessions. Oh, and the carpet. Oh god, the carpet. It's cream, or it was before we moved in but after 4 years of paint, grass-stains, blood from birds the cat has brought in (not in the last couple of years, thank goodness), coffee, mud and god knows what else getting all over it....well, it needs cleaning, let's just say that. These things comes off easily, right? Even when they've been there for months getting trodden on and ground in? Aaarrrrrggghhh.

Right, so I'd better go and get on. And I was right, writing it all down has helped sort my head out a bit. Bye for now.

As a fully self-taught crocheter....

...I really love this passage, from Nanda Van Gestel in The Unschooling Unmanual:

While art classes can help us learn new techniques, those are best learned when the child is ready and interested. What is more important is having the freedom to create straight from the heart, without restriction or judgment. Self-taught people in many fields often produce fresher, more unique, and more creative work than those who have been taught specialized techniques and methods. Nobody has ever told Stijn [the author's son] how you should or shouldn't paint, so he paints from the heart, without being limited by unquestioned rules or traditions.

You know it's true. Continuing with my self-taught crocheting, I'm very much looking forward to experimenting with freeform crochet in the near future. I think I'm going to enjoy that very much and it'll free me up to produce more unique stock for the shop. People always used to be astonished when my dad told them he taught himself to play the piano, but he did. He never had one lesson in his life, but when 'put to the test' passed Grade 8 with ease and later became the church organist, meaning he taught himself the organ as well. All you need is an interest in the subject, better still a passion, and you can go as far as you like with it. Testing is irrelevant.

Obsessiveness

While in town with his Dad on Sunday, Rowan saw this

and not surprisingly was really impressed by it and said he would like to have it.  DH didn't buy if for him at the time as he didn't have enough money, and Rowan's been talking about it pretty solidly ever since.  I said I would really like to see it so we would go and have a look when we went into town today.   I mentioned it to him when we got up this morning, how I was looking forward to seeing what it was like (I have ended up as big a fan of Dr Who as Rowan!), and thus started the chanting.  "Let's go and get the Dr Who set" over and over and over and over and over and over.  Anything we said to Rowan we got the same response:

Me:  Would you like something to eat?
R: Let's go and get the Dr Who set.

a little later

Me:  Did you get a drink?
R: Let's go and get the Dr Who set.

...he was like a boy hypnotised, and just kept repeating that phrase, as though all his other vocabulary had been wiped by the mesmerising power of the Dr Who set.  He wouldn't eat, which is very unusual indeed for him.  He refused everything, although he did have a few sips of water.  I am very grateful that today it happened I did have enough money to buy it for him, so we got off the bus a couple of stops sooner than usual and went to the toy shop to get it.  He carried it to the counter, and I gave him the money to pay for it himself.  Then he carried it until it got too heavy for him and I took over.  I actually ended up carrying all the shopping (4 bags full) and Rowan as he was tired from not eating anything.  He refused lunch, too, because he just wanted to play with his new Dr Who set.  We went to a cafe and I had something to eat, and he just refused everything even though I offered him his favourite things and was more than willing to let him have my sandwich or drink if he suddenly decided he wanted something.  We came home and got his new toys out of their packaging.  He had a good look at them, studying them, and laid them all out on the table.  While he was doing this I was making up a plate with a few bits and pieces for him to choose from - some bread, quavers, raisins etc, and just casually put it down near him and said, "That's for you, darling."  I carried on sorting out the rest of the shopping, and he said, "What?  For me?" so I said, "Yep, all for you." and then, at last, about an hour ago, he ate something!  He's gone back to his new toys now, and keeps saying, "Me am very pleased that we got these today!" I was beginning to get worried on the bus on the way home about him not eating and wondering if he was coming down with something, but I think I knew in my gut that really it was a kind of 'love-sickness' for the Dr Who set, and he would eat once we got it home and out of its packaging.

He got a bit like this once before, about a construction set, and I wrote about it here.  This is Rowan all the time though, these are just two examples of when it becomes more extreme.  Dayna Martin, in writing about her own daughter in her book, perfectly describes Rowan, and I feel enormous gratitude that I have managed to come to the same sort of place with him as Dayna has with Dakota.  She says:

My daughter, Dakota, is extremely intense.  She does not like hearing no, ever!  So I find a way to get to "yes" in some shape or form.  I do not mean that I am necessarily dropping everything to do it that moment, but may say: "Oh, that would be fun.  I would love to play Candy Land with you.  Just let me finish this." I keep energy with Dakota positive, upbeat and connected.  The second she feels any kind of "no" energy, she pushes back, and a power struggle ensues between us.

Yes, power struggles are a common, traditional parenting occurrence, but I refuse to be the wall that stands between Dakota and her wants in life.  I let her know that I am her partner.  Dakota is a very powerful creator.  She wants what she wants, and I honor this about her.  I also honor the fact that I can't drop everything every time she wants, but I let her know that "yes" is going to happen.  I focus my dialog on the positive possibility with her.  She trusts this, and even helps me finish what I am doing so we can move on to what she wants to do.  I have learned the delicate balance of ensuring that her emotional and physical needs are met as well as my own.

Since Dakota was two years old, she screamed if I took too long to bring her something she wanted.  For most parents, our old parenting voices haunt us in these intense situations.  You may think: "I feel like a slave.  My child is pushing me around." Yet, your other side knows: "She is doing the best she can.  I am supposed to help her.  I am her partner."  Focus on her needs, not her behaviour.  Then your mom's voice speaks up, "Do not let her talk to you that way."  In the beginning stages of learning a new way to parent, we often have these contrasting voices visit  until we find one that feels best.  This is so normal.

It is important for me to follow through with something I have told my kids that I would do.  If I say that I will play Candy Land after I finish what I am doing, I make sure I do.  Nothing chips away at the trust more between parent and child as when a parent continually puts a child off and never does what they promised.  My kids call me on this if I forget and remind me.  I am able to be honest and in integrity with what we live, and I apologise with the same sincerity as I would if I forgot an important lunch date with a friend.

How many times have I thought, as Rowan has demanded I bring him something that is easily within his reach, I feel like a slave? I don't think I have ever said it out loud, though. How many times has Rowan asked for something, and I have said yes, one minute, let me just finish this, and then totally forgot about it, only to have him barge in a few minutes later and say again, quite a bit louder this time, that he wants something? Hundreds. I do genuinely forget. But when I do, I always apologise and say, "Oh yes, sorry, I forgot!" and pull a silly face and make a joke about it and go and do whatever he was asking for.

As you may have guessed, I have just finished reading Dayna's book, and I loved it. There was one part which was especially enlightened, although I can't find it right at the moment, where she said that sometimes unschooling or peaceful parenting just becomes a more gentle way to control children. I thought that was very interesting, and insightful, and I've seen it happen. The aim basically remains one of control, or obedience, but it is achieved in a 'peaceful' way, which of course is not the true essence of unschooling at all. Unschooling is about relinquishing control over and working towards true connection instead. I may have more to say about this is a future post!

Library

Well, I think we've fulfilled our 'out and proud' home educator duties today. All the way to the library and back, and round the park and in the shop, Rowan kept up a constant, "bidda bidda bidda bidda AGH! bidda bidda bidda bidda AGH!" at the top of his voice. I think the whole area probably knows exactly where we were and at what time this morning LOL! I was also careful to make quite loud mention of the home ed group we are going to tomorrow, talking about the sausage rolls we have to warm up to take because they are having a party. Nobody asked why Rowan wasn't in nursery, so I wasn't able to unleash my new confident booming "We are home educators!" voice, which is a shame.

Also, in cute news, while in the library Rowan decided to read to me, instead of the other way around, and he got out the book The Little Red Hen, which apparently goes:

"First, it was CHRISTMAS DAY! And then it was CHRISTMAS NIGHT! And then it was CHRISTMAS MORNING! And then it was baking time. And then it was time to ROLL IN THE MUD! And then it was time to RUN ALL the way HOOOOOOOOOME!!!!"

...so, now you know.