Marie vient de célébrer son anniversaire et c’est à cette occasion que j’ai décidé de commencer à écrire l’histoire de sa naissance. Pendant que je m’en souviens encore. Il y a bien des choses que nous croyons ne jamais pouvoir oublier, et malgré tout, il m’en manque déjà des bouts.
Marie est née à 38 semaines de gestation, un beau bébé bien rose qui pesait 7 livres 8 onces, mon deuxième plus gros bébé. Elle est née le jour de l’an, la fête de Marie Mère de Dieu dans le calendrier liturgique Catholique. Son nom était choisi depuis longtemps : 6 ans auparavant, lors d’une visite à la cathédrale de Kingston (ON) alors que j’étais enceinte de mon bébé#2, j’avais été inspirée par une statue de la Pietà et j’avais choisi « Marie » comme nom de fille. C’était un garçon. Une autre fille a suivi et le prénom « Marie » est resté en haut de la liste des prénoms. Son nom était donc choisi bien avant qu’elle naisse. Nous avons choisi le prénom et elle a choisi le jour : les deux se sont bien accordés.
Première photo des 4 enfants!
La veille du jour de l’an, j’avais eu quelques contractions irrégulières au cours de la nuit. Ma sage-femme m’avait expliqué que son équipe était complètement débordée et que si mes contractions se régularisaient, je devrais me présenter à l’hôpital car toutes les sages-femmes y étaient déjà. Nous avions planifié une naissance à la maison et cette nouvelle a eu l’effet d’une douche froide. Au cours de la nuit, ma sage-femme, qui partait en congé le 1ier janvier, s’est arrêtée chez moi pour voir si je faisais du progrès. Elle a passé la fin de la nuit dans notre lit d’invité. Au petit matin, mon semblant-de-travail s’était non seulement arrêté mais n’avais causé aucun effacement, aucune dilatation, pas même la promesse de choses à venir. C’est donc avec une gueule de bois qui n’avait rien à voir avec les excès du Nouvel An que je me suis levée le matin du premier janvier.
Nous sommes allés à la Messe pour célébrer la fête de Marie-Mère-de-Dieu et nous avons reçu mes parents pour le lunch. Je me rappelle avoir un mal de tête et être de plutôt mauvaise humeur. Au cours de la soirée du premier janvier, j’ai soudainement eu une longue contraction très intense qui a duré presque 2 minutes. Sachant que les contractions de 2 minutes relèvent du domaine de la transition, j’ai rappelé la sage-femme de garde pour lui demander son opinion. Il était 21 :00 et je n’avais pas eu d’autres contractions. Je me rappelle de sa voix un peu fatiguée – la pauvre s’apprêtait sans doute à se mettre au lit – m’expliquant que je devrais attendre d’avoir des contractions régulières aux 5 minutes avant de la rappeler. Je ne sais pas ce que j’ai répondu, peut-être que j’ai pleuré, peut-être que j’ai eu l’air assez misérable, mais elle a décidé de venir me voir à la maison. Peut-être s’est-elle dit qu’elle pourrait aller se coucher après, peut-être a-t-elle eu un pressentiment au sujet d’un quatrième enfant. Quand elle est arrivée chez moi à 22 :30, j’étais complètement dilatée et prête à pousser. Je n’avais pourtant aucune envie de pousser. Je suis allée me coucher pour attendre que le travail reprenne, ou plutôt prenne tout court. J’ai dormis un peu. Je suis allée à la salle-de-bain et je me souviens de la sage-femme tranquillement assise près de la porte, toute gantée et prête à attraper le bébé. Je suis retournée à ma chambre et elle m’a dit doucement : « Il serait peut-être le temps de faire sortir ce bébé-là… Voudrais-tu essayer de pousser un peu? » et en une poussée, j’ai donné naissance à ma troisième fille. Elle pesait 7lbs8oz, mon deuxième plus gros bébé (encore aujourd’hui). Elle nous a surpris avec sa fissure labiale, mais elle a tout de suite été capable de prendre le sein et allaiter. Bébé du jour de l’an, elle est née vers 23 :05.
Le jour de son baptême, quelques semaines avant sa première chirurgie.
Heureusement que nous avions planifié une naissance à la maison, sans quoi c’est en ambulance que je me serais rendue à l’hôpital, accouchant sans doute en cour de route. Ou encore, j’aurais accouché seule à la maison en attendant que mes contractions deviennent régulières! Ma fille de presque-6 ans voulait assister à la naissance. Nous l’avons réveillée mais à la dernière minute, elle s’est enfuit dans les bras de ma sœur qui était présente pour aider.
En route pour la salle d’op!Dans le sling, vers 6 mois. Ne portez pas vos bébés comme ça! Elle est trop basse et son menton est écrasé sur sa poitrine. Une telle position pourrait compromettre la respiration d’un nourrisson. On apprend toujours!1 an! On célèbre avec grand-maman!Aujourd’hui!
Our local paper, The Ottawa Citizen, ran a wonderful story about our family. I am so thrilled with how it turned out! (I also just noticed the second tab with pictures!)
It’s been a quiet blogging season. The demands of early pregnancy (now in its 24th week), toddler twins and work have essentially squeezed writing time right out of my schedule. In my few writing moments, I struggle to find inspiration. The topics abound but my writing rings hollow. I have ideas that I struggle to put in order. I have half-started posts on a range of subjects, from teenagers to sleep training to sibling rivalry, with nothing to add. But a recent post in a Facebook parenting group had me reflecting and my reflection lead me to a few ideas I would like to share.
A parent asked for thoughts and opinions on the discipline book “I-2-3 Magic” by Thomas W. Phelan. It was all the rage when my older children (born between 1996 and 2002) were younger. Her questions led me to revisit the 1-2-3 Magic method of discipline and reflect on my own experience. Like most disciplinary methods, the 1-2-3 Magic approach to discipline is rooted in an equal mix of sound psychological information, half-baked assumptions and a one-size-fits-all solution. As with most parenting books, it is very difficult to accept it or discredit it on the whole.
**** As usual with all my discipline posts, this only applies to children who are mentally and physically healthy. Parents of children with special needs such as mental health issues, brain injuries or autism spectrum disorder, or parents who themselves struggle with these issues, may define successful discipline differently and achieve great success with methods that are otherwise problematic for “conventional” children. I am not an expert, just a mom with opinions. *****
The 1-2-3 Magic approach is based on the observation that parents talk too damn much. And this is true. Whether you are a screamer, a ranter, a lecturer or a cajoler, even if you engage in endless explaining in the hope that your child will understand the logic of your position and concede your victory, chances are your discipline involves way too much talking. Studies have repeatedly shown that children (and teenagers!) tune out after a very short period of talking. With the 1-2-3 Magic approach, you let a negative outcome, a time-out period, do the talking. A short explanation may be given, followed by a count to 3. If by 3 the behaviour has not stopped, the child is put in a time-out. The book’s subtitle “Effective Discipline for Children 2 to 12” infers that this method is appropriate for children older than 6. My educated opinion as a mother of almost 9 is that if you are still counting your child past Senior Kindergarten (5 years-old), you have a much bigger issue on your hands than day-to-day discipline. The fact that you may still count a 12 year-old illustrates my main concern with the method: it teaches the children to be compliant without allowing them to develop inner discipline and compliance born of trust in their parents’ lead. If you wonder why this matters, you will find out the hard way when you have teenagers.
My own experience with the 1-2-3 Magic Method (and its acolytes) is that it made my children manipulative and self-centered. When you put children in the driver’s seat of deciding whether they prefer complying or taking the time-out, you get children who become extraordinarily efficient at figuring out what is good for them in less than 3 seconds. I was discussing this with my husband while doing dishes the other evening and I said: “If you give children the choice between ‘stop hitting your brother’ and ‘go to your room’, some will choose the room 100% of the time, as long as they can shove one last time… and come out to hit again” and my 14 year-old chimed-in “That’s me!” Her observation was only half-accurate: she never had an aggression problem but her explosive temperament means that her frustration is expressed impulsively without thinking about the consequences. Sending her to her room after the fact still allowed the release of anger in inadequate ways and the memory of previous time-outs was never motivation enough to check her angry outbursts at the door.
This example illustrates two of my main concerns with the method. First, this one-size-fits-all approach to behaviour modification doesn’t consider the importance of knowing your child’s individual temperament in finding effective discipline. Temperament, also known as our natural pattern of reactions, not only determines whether a discipline approach will be effective in modifying the behaviour but also in determining what will motivate our child to do the right thing. My second issue is that it doesn’t emphasize the importance of attachment in ensuring some compliance from our children or, at the very least, explain the absence of compliance, especially as the children grow-out of the preschool years and approach the challenging 6-10 years of age. As Gordon Neufeld so aptly writes it in his excellent book “Hold On to your Kids: Why Parents Need to Matter More than Peers”:
“When we focus so narrowly on what we should be doing, we become blind to our attachment relationship with our children and its inadequacies. Parenthood is above all a relationship, not a skill to be acquired. Attachment is not a behavior to be learned but a connection to be sought.”
The simplicity of methods like 1-2-3 Magic is what appeals to parents who have a tendency to loose themselves in explanations or rants. But the same simplicity can hide the appearance of attachment voids and the growth of attachment-related issues that are often harder to address during the teenage years, when our children are well beyond the reach of time-outs and punishments. For parents who are inclined to fall within what Dr. Phelan calls the Talk-Persuade-Argue-Yell-Hit Syndrome, 1-2-3 Magic can prevent the constant attacks on attachment caused by age-inappropriate verbal diarrhea. But what we need to remember most of all is that if you need to talk-persuade-argue-yell-hit (even if you only make it to argue and yell) every time you ask something, you are more likely dealing with a relationship problem rather than a behaviour problem.
As parents, we can’t help but notice when our grip on our children is slipping. We get caught in endless arguments, tantrums, and crisis. We are unable to ensure compliance, ever. Parents who rely on coercive methods of discipline, also known under the euphemisms of “consequences” and including time-outs and isolation, watch themselves get caught in a “consequence rut” or in a “last man standing” contest. I often recall a grocery store trip on December 23rd when two active little boys would not leave the candy display alone while their mother waited in line at the cash register. “At 3, if you haven’t stopped, we’re not going to Florida!” and I was dying to reply: “As if!!” But here is the utter powerlessness of a parent who cannot simply ask her boys not to play with the candies.
As with any relationship, the parent-child relationship needs to be nurtured and built-up. Often, our children’s misbehaviours are warning bells we better not ignore. The constant resort to time-outs can prevent us from listening to our child and improve our game. To be effective teachers, we need to first discipline ourselves. How many tantrums could be avoided if we simply provided our children with a calmer, more structured environment? How much aggression could be prevented if we simply took time to reconnect and empathize with an overwhelmed child? How many meltdowns could be nipped in the bud if we simply respected our child’s shyness and reluctance to embrace new situations? Those are all “discipline” problems that are within us as parents to solve, if we would only discipline ourselves and put order in our environment. When we punish our children for responding in an age-appropriate manner to our own lack of structure and discipline, we effectively demand more maturity from our children than we are able to display ourselves.
Does it mean that we must put-up with anything? What about strong-willed children? In the words of Gordon Neufeld (because I couldn’t write it better):
“We may believe that our child is stubborn or willful and that we have to break him of his defiant ways. Yet young children can hardly be said to have a will at all, if by that is meant a person’s capacity to know what he wants and to stick to that goal despite setbacks or distractions. “But my child is strong-willed,” many parents insist. “When he decides that he wants something he just keeps at it until I cannot say no, or until I get very angry.” What is really being described here is not will but a rigid, obsessive clinging to this or that desire. An obsession may resemble will in its persistence but has nothing in common with it. Its power comes from the unconscious and it rules the individual, whereas a person with true will is in command of his intentions. The child’s oppositionality is not an expression of will. What it denotes is the absence of will, which allows a person only to react, but not to act from a free and conscious process of choosing.”
As parents, we need to be able to demand compliance from our children. We may not always be able to connect and empathize with our children first, especially in dangerous situations. The work of building a strong relationship of trust, whereby a child will follow our lead most of the time, happens in the little moments between the meltdowns and the impulsive behaviour. Our power to discipline is not built through coercion as the meltdowns happen. In fact, the opposite is true: by the time we are locked in a power struggle or facing a temper tantrum, our power to teach is all but gone. We need to think ahead and own-up to our share of responsibility in causing our children’s misbehaviours.
I often wonder how often my children would send me off to my room if they could…
Cette année pour les vacances de Noël, nous avons créé une patinoire sur l’étang derrière notre maison. Malgré le froid extrême, les enfants sortent patiner au moins deux fois par jour. Nous avons passé un Noël tout simple en famille. Alors que passent à la télé les annonces pour le cadeau parfait — une voiture, un cinéma maison, un voyage — nous retournons à la source avec des étrennes simples, des repas succulents et de quoi bâtir un héritage de bons souvenirs. Nous passons un bien joyeux Noël et nous vous souhaitons la même joie au cours de toute l’année.
Cette semaine, une amie anglophone m’a fait parvenir un article de L’Actualité intitulé Payer les mères à la maison pour que je lui en traduise l’idée générale. S’il y a des choses qu’on aimerait pouvoir « dé-lire », en voici une.
L’article part d’un récent sondage Leger-Marketing tenu auprès de familles québécoises :
L’été dernier, un sondage de Léger Marketing a permis de constater que, dans les deux tiers des familles québécoises, l’un des parents serait prêt à rester à la maison pour prendre soin des enfants d’âge préscolaire si l’État lui versait une allocation équivalente à la subvention qui est accordée pour une place en garderie subventionnée (CPE ou autre). On parle ici d’une subvention annuelle d’environ 9 000 dollars.
Devrait-on payer les femmes pour qu’elles restent à la maison? L’auteur explique qu’il s’agirait d’un projet inabordable, particulièrement à la lumière des finances publiques québécoises telles qu’elles sont. Bon, je me dis que les finances publiques n’empêchent pas le gouvernement québécois de poursuivre sa lancée avec les garderies à $7 qui, bien que populaires, ne sont pas exactement un investissement rentable au niveau fiscal.
Mais là où j’ai dû courir à la salle de bain (et ce n’est pas parce que je suis enceinte), c’est à la déclaration qu’il s’agirait d’une initiative rétrograde.
Pardon?
Payer les mères pour qu’elles restent à la maison irait aussi à l’encontre de plusieurs décennies d’efforts visant à améliorer la position des femmes à l’intérieur comme à l’extérieur du foyer.
Si j’ai bien compris, donner le choix aux familles d’utiliser la subvention pour les services de garde pour rester à la maison ferait perdre du terrain aux femmes et donnerait la permission aux hommes de se laver les mains des couches et des tâches ménagères. Parce qu’on sait que la seule raison pour laquelle les papas d’aujourd’hui sont impliqués dans le soin et l’éducation de leurs enfants, c’est parce que madame travaille. Encore une fois, pardon? D’après L’Actualité le progrès ne tient qu’à un fil : la garderie subventionnée. Et pourtant, à l’extérieur du Québec, des papas impliqués décident tous les jours d’être présents dans la vie de leurs enfants et d’appuyer leurs conjointes dans les tâches domestiques. Serait-ce la sagesse d’une génération de jeunes hommes qui ont été témoins d’une dynamique de couple laissant peu de place au père au sein du foyer? Serait-ce la sagesse d’une génération de femmes qui s’attendent à plus de la part de leur conjoint? Serait-ce la popularité croissante du maternage et des théories de l’attachement qui suggèrent qu’un enfant a besoin de se sentir aimé et valorisé par ses parents afin de développer une bonne santé émotive et des relations saines? Bref, serait-ce une combinaison de facteurs historiques, sociaux et culturels qu’il serait difficile d’expliquer en un paragraphe?
Mais surtout, suis-je la seule jeune femme se pensant libérée qui a envie de mettre sa brassière en feu en lisant que si on donnait un choix aux femmes, elles pourraient l’utiliser à mauvais escient? Qu’il est donc préférable, pour leur bénéfice ma petite madame, de ne pas leur donner? L’auteur se pare du drapeau de la libération féminine en faisant preuve du paternalisme le plus bas. Bravo. Quand j’aurais besoin d’un homme pour me dire ce que je dois faire pour éviter de paraître rétrograde, je saurai où le rejoindre.
Ça m’a rappelé un incident de ma très jeune enfance, circa 1976. Je me suis ouvert le menton lorsque la roue avant de mon tricycle s’est prise dans une bouche d’égout mal fermée. Ma mère a voulu poursuivre la municipalité pour négligence mais a abandonné les procédures lorsque mon père a dû signer une autorisation lui permettant d’entamer une poursuite judiciaire. Nier aux femmes la poursuite de leurs ambitions, même lorsque celles-ci se « limitent » à l’éducation de leurs enfants, c’est retourner à l’époque où les femmes devaient recevoir la permission de signer des documents importants et de gérer leurs finances personnelles. Leur dire que rester à la maison est un mauvais choix car elles pourraient le regretter dans l’éventualité d’un divorce, c’est substituer son intelligence à la leur. Le combat du féminisme n’était pas de donner aux femmes une palette de choix déterminés « progressistes » mais de leur donner l’autonomie de faire leurs propres choix. Les propos tenu par l’auteur de cet article m’inquiètent bien plus que mes copines qui renoncent à leur carrière pour rester à la maison.
Mais ce n’est pas tout. L’auteur va plus loin dans la substitution de son bon jugement à celui des femmes qui décident de rester à la maison en déclarant que les enfants doivent fréquenter la garderie pour y apprendre à vivre :
Une bonne garderie fait acquérir aux enfants des aptitudes cognitives, comme écouter, observer, parler, dessiner, compter, lire et écrire. Elle leur apprend aussi la patience, la persévérance, la responsabilité, la discipline, l’estime de soi, la capacité d’interagir avec les autres, la générosité et la maîtrise des émotions.
Y’a-t-il quelque chose d’utile que les enfants peuvent apprendre à la maison? La déclaration que les enfants doivent fréquenter une institution pour pouvoir développer ces habiletés particulières suggère qu’elles ne peuvent être acquises à la maison ou enseignées par les parents. Pousse mais pousse égal! J’ai 8 enfants. Certains ont fréquenté une garderie jusqu’à leur entrée à l’école. D’autres sont restés à la maison avec moi. Aucun n’est plus vertueux que les autres à ces égards. En fait, j’ai toujours remarqué que l’entrée à l’école emportait une dégradation marquante du comportement de mes enfants. Tout d’un coup, ils se mettent à pousser pour avoir leur tour, à japper après leurs frères et sœur et à s’envoyer promener. Et pour ce qui est du développement du vocabulaire, on repassera merci : ils apprennent soudainement à sacrer. Il naît de l’école un stress et une impatience qui me surprennent toujours, même après 6 enfants. Pour ce qui est de la garderie, j’ai remarqué que certains enfants en garderie font preuves de discipline et de générosité et d’autres non. Serait-ce parce que finalement, c’est à la maison que ces apprentissages sont introduits et consolidés (ou non)?
Il est difficile de répondre à une déclaration à l’emporte-pièce par l’anecdote mais regardez autour de vous et dites-moi sans rire que les seuls enfants bien ajustés que vous connaissez sont issus d’un centre éducatif et que les seuls fuckés ont été élevés par des mères à la maison. Allez! Sans rire! Si l’auteur pense vraiment que les femmes ne sont pas à la hauteur de leurs propres petits, ce n’est pas surprenant qu’il ne les pense pas dignes de choisir quoi faire avec une potentielle subvention de services de garde.
Est-ce que l’état devrait payer les femmes pour qu’elles restent à la maison? Absolument pas! Au mieux, j’aimerais que les parents qui restent à la maison bénéficient d’un régime fiscal comparable à celui des parents qui travaillent. Par exemple, en permettant que la valeur du service de garde que les parents fournissent en restant à la maison puisse être déduite de leur revenu familial. Ou que le fractionnement du revenu (income splitting) soit permis pour les familles dont un parent reste à la maison. Je ne veux pas d’un chèque du gouvernement pour m’occuper de mes enfants. Parce que du chèque à l’inspection, il n’y a qu’un pas. Lorsque je paye ma femme de ménage, je m’attends à pouvoir lui dire quoi faire quand elle est chez moi. Et je n’accepterai jamais qu’un bureaucrate vienne fouiner chez moi pour voir si j’élève mes enfants d’une manière digne d’être payée. Votre enfant de 2 ans fait-il ses nuits madame? Il va falloir le laisser pleurer! Mes copines qui sont passées à travers un processus d’adoption savent à quel point les attentes d’un ministère quant à ce qui rend un parent digne peuvent être aussi frustrantes qu’illogiques. Je vais me passer du chèque et des interventions.
Je n’ai qu’à imaginer l’auteur de l’article dans le rôle de la police parentale. Gardez votre argent.
I wanted to call this post “I am not friend with my kids” but it really sounds awful doesn’t it?
It was in reference to this widely shared blog post: I am friends with my kids. I started answering in my head before reading the text, on the basis of the title alone. When I finally took the time to read, I realized that, gah, I completely agreed with the gist of the author’s ideas. The title is definitely an attention grabber but her position is more nuanced.
Parenting with respect is crucial to the development of a strong and healthy relationship with our children. If the importance of mutual respect in parenting is eluding you, you haven’t reached the teenage years yet. When we live in the fast-paced and eminently physical world of young children, the immediate nature of parenting with a Big Stick can be appealing. But when you wake-up one morning with the real, potentially life-altering, problems of the teen age, it’s too late to wish for wide open lines of communication if they never existed. Our children need to know that they are loved and that we appreciate their presence in our lives. It is not a guarantee of smooth sailing but how would you rather cross the Atlantic? In a sailboat or a canoe?
While a healthy parenting relationship has a lot in common with friendship, it is a unique relationship that shouldn’t be so readily assimilated to the sometimes fickle and often temporary nature of friendship. Especially children’s friendships. My children have dozens of friends but I’m their only mother. If I am their friend, who will be their mother?
The type of parenting illustrated in the blog post I am friend with my kids stands in opposition to what I would call “traditional” types of parenting. As a parent who opposes — as I do — corporal punishment, harsh consequences, isolation and threats as parenting tools, the author draws parallels between parenting and friendship along those lines: I don’t hit my friends, I don’t threaten my friends, I don’t isolate my friends when they are sad, I seek to understand my friends, I don’t yell at my friends. But if parenting can have some of the attributes of friendship, it is also so much more! I have skin in the game. My children’s friends do not.
Skin in the game matters because it gets us through the sort of tough times that friendship would not weather. Children can be little jerks. They can be rude, ungrateful, demanding. Year after year. Like friendship, the parent-child relationship is reciprocal but the giving and the receiving play-out over a lifetime. If my friends treated me like my kids do over a 20 year period, the relationship would probably die by the wayside, as the ebb and flow of life took us along different paths. My kids are a ton of fun, don’t get me wrong. But the giving sure outweighs the receiving. In other words, the fact that my children have not yet died of exposure is the surest sign that not being their friend works to their benefits.
Skin in the game is also what motivates us to teach hard lessons and uphold unpopular principles for their own long-term good. My friends don’t care what I eat. My friends don’t care if I never eat a fruit. They may care if I eat like an animal and never invite me out but that’s about it. In fact, much of the learning that happens in the family such as self-discipline, impulse-control and good, caring manners, enables us to have and maintain healthy friendships later in life. Healthy relationships don’t start with friendship. Family is the root relationship from which all other healthy (or unhealthy) relationships flow. Learning to eat a healthy, balanced diet, learning to make way to others, learning to love people we don’t always like, learning to work when we don’t feel like it can all be taught in the family and better prepare our children to face the big wide world of relationships: from friendships to partnerships to employment relationships. But they are not always easy lessons and may not endear us to our children (or vice versa). How would you feel if one of your friends was on your case about your eating habits the same way we are with our children? Sounds a little off, doesn’t it?
As the giving and receiving of the parent-child relationship plays out over a lifetime, I can see the relatively-near future when our parents will become more dependent and, as age takes its toll, more fragile and irascible. Caring for an elderly parent bears some eerie resemblance with the care they provided us as we were growing-up. They can become demanding, ungrateful, and frustrated by their limitations. And just like they cared for us when we were little jerks, we will let them treat us in ways we would never accept from a friend. We will give of ourselves in ways we never thought we could. This is the way unconditional love flows.
I want my children to expect more than friendship from their parents. I want to be more than friends.
I had a moment the other morning. You know the kind? A “Mother of the Year” moment.
I’m telling you this because I used to think that mothers of large families were different. I used to think they had a special gift, a special patience, a special temperament. That they were “good with children,” whereas I wasn’t. I used to think that mothers of large families found joy in the little aggravations of motherhood, whereas I found exasperation. I used to think that they had boundless patience and energy, whereas I ran out of both shortly after getting up in the morning.
I am now one of those mothers. I have 8 children including a pair of twins. I am expecting my 9th child in the spring of 2014. I am a member of the large family club although I expect someone to knock at my door and revoke my membership any day. Mothers of large family are inspirations. They make people think they can do it too. I don’t think anyone looks at me that way. Or maybe they look at me and think: “Yeah… let’s not and say we did.”
Mothers of large families have moments too. Moments like the other morning, when my 4 year-old woke-up just a little too early. I dragged my sorry behind to the kitchen to help her with breakfast before she could wake-up the twins. No luck: I heard one baby stir and thought that I may be able to nurse him back to sleep for another hour or two. I hurried to prepare my daughter’s bowl of cereal before the crying twin could wake-up his sister. Doing so, I inadvertently poured the milk instead of letting her do it. We’ve all done this right? Except that the difference between you and I is that you only have two children: I’ve had 17 years to learn these lessons and I still screw-up.
I am nursing one baby to the sound of a major melt down in the kitchen. She is screaming like her arm has been chewed-off by a shark. The second baby starts waking-up. I return the first baby to his bed and leave the room. Return to the kitchen and that’s when I had my “moment”. I grabbed my daughter by the arms, sat her down a little too firmly in front of her bowl of cereal and told her to stop screaming. Actually, I may have told her to shut-up. I did not threaten to tape her mouth shut with duct tape although the fleeting though may have crossed my mind. My entire day was going up in smoke: the twins up before 6 am meant that they would certainly fall asleep in the car when I left for errands at 9; the short car nap would certainly knee-cap the afternoon nap; no afternoon nap means no work in the afternoon; no afternoon nap means a hellish supper time; a hellish supper time makes everybody cranky and uncooperative. And I dumped all this squarely on my 4 year-old’s shoulders. Because yeah, she should know, right?
By now, I was back nursing my second twin back to sleep but my daughter was no longer screaming: she was wailing and sobbing for a hug. And from upstairs, stuck nursing in the dark, my heart sank. My child is only 4 and her need for affection and affirmation is gigantic. Not that my other children’s needs are less significant. But this particular child feels everything keenly. The frustration of having the milk poured for her but also her mother’s disapproval and anger. The firm arm grab, the harsh tone of voice, they just broke her apart. And now, I was at a loss to understand how after parenting so many children for so many years, I could still let a 4 year-old get the best of me.
I did give her a big hug. And I did apologize. Later that evening, as we were reading bedtime stories and cuddling in bed, I still felt the sting of failure but she didn’t seem to remember. We read about the wolf and the seven kids, naming each kid after her siblings, puzzling as always over who would be left out (all the kids are swallowed whole by the wolf so it’s a blessing really.) My little tantrum of the morning seemed all but forgotten.
In the balance of our parenting, we all hope that the happy, cozy, moments, the ones that we share around a bedtime story or a family walk in the park will outweigh the moments when we lose it. That’s why we need to love and cherish our children at every opportunity. So that on the whole, they’ll remember their childhood as a happy one, and their parents as loving. I don’t know yet how my children will remember me: a loving mom or a tired old hag with a short fuse? Maybe it will be a bit of both.
I used to parent with very clear goals and expectations in mind. I still parent with vision. But the minute expectations about my children’s table manners and church etiquette have given way to a broader vision of happiness and respect for themselves and others. If I can’t be a perfect parent, I will cover my imperfections with an extra layer of love and forgiveness. I hope that my children will remember the love over the imperfections. Warts and all.
Par une belle journée d’automne, nous avons passé de bien beaux moments sur notre propriété en campagne. Pour l’instant, il ne s’agit que de champs et de forêts. Mais un jour, nous y construirons une maison. Si vous cliquez sur la première photo, vous pourrez toutes les voir en pleine grandeur.
Après un mois de septembre un peu frisquet, l’automne est venu cogner à notre porte y apportant les derniers jours de l’été qui nous avaient tant manqués. Les arbres passent du vert au rouge orangé et le contraste entre le bleu du ciel et les couleurs éclatantes de l’automne est spectaculaire. Pouvoir l’apprécier sans se geler les doigts est un de ces petits luxes que nous offre la nature lorsqu’elle se sent généreuse.
À la plage en octobre, le bord de l’eau nous appartient. Nous aimons nous y réunir pour jouer dans le sable sans la foule. Aujourd,Hui, nous y avons vu un spectacle inhabituel: un aéroglisseur de la garde côtière. Que faisait-il là? Aucune idée! Mais quel spectacle de le voir traverser la rivière et venir s’échouer (se stationner?) à la plage!
Si vous cliquez sur la première photo, vous pourrez toutes les voir en album photo.
The more I learn about the mainstream food supply, the least I want my family to eat from it. As a mother, I am conscious about creating healthy eating habits and raising children who are healthy in mind and body. For years now, I have been striving to cook from scratch using real ingredients and avoid heavily processed foods. Avoiding processed food is a challenge especially when it comes to school lunches: the need for speed and convenience, both at the assembly and intake levels, tend to trump my best laid plans. It doesn’t help when the teachers consider a jello cup with sad pieces of peaches a “healthy snack” but not a homemade baked oatmeal bar. My eyes rolled so far, I almost injured my shoulder blades.
While in my previous job, I had the opportunity to read briefing material on the raising, transport and slaughter of meat animals. I became increasingly concerned about the ethics and morality of participating in the meat-supply system. Not only for health reasons but also as a Christian: in Christian ethics, man was given dominion over the animals. In exchange for the proteins, we are expected to be good stewards of God’s creation and I am not convinced that we are living up to the task. I dream of the day when I can source all my family’s food to healthy and ethical agriculture, but as the 100-mile diet enters yuppydom, our family of 10 simply cannot keep-up with the double-employed with 1/4 of the children families. We need more vitamins than a $6.99 8-oz crate of local organic strawberries can provide. A Lot More.
Since I couldn’t beat one or join the other, I decided to reduce our family’s meat intake significantly. In the long run, I am hoping to reduce it to a point where we can afford to buy a few local, grass-fed carcasses and store them in the freezer. Learning to cook vegetarian has been a growth experience: after 17 years of feeding my family a certain way, I had to re-think most of my cooking habits and reflexes. I quickly fell into a rut and my children grit their teeth and waited for this “new thing” to be over. But I was not to be so easily defeated! I asked for vegetarian cook book suggestions from my friends and found two pearls on Amazon’s used books service (why pay $34 when you can pay $5.30?): The Moosewood Restaurant Cooks for a Crowd and Vegetarian Planet by Didi Emonds.
No more excuses!
The Moosewood Restaurant Cooks for a Crowd is a restaurant’s cookbook with restaurant’s serving sizes: it makes soup by the gallon, which is exactly what I need to feed my family and freeze some leftovers. As I am writing now, I am making a few gallons (how many litres is that?) of vegetable stock ad the house smells heavenly.
The first recipe I tried from Vegetarian Planet was the Thai Tofu with red curry sauce. The recipe has nothing red or containing curry in its ingredient list. I kept feeling like the it would be a disaster somehow but it turned out wonderfully tasty and delicious. The children – against all hope – loved it. The coconut rice with scallions (rice cooked with water and a can of coconut milk) was amazing and even my non-rice-lover loved it.
Thai Tofu and coconut rice with scallions
The second recipe I tried from Vegetarian Planet was equally delicious although my younger children decided not to like it. I made the Deep Dish Pumpkin and Potato Pie. Since I had run out of cheese, I added 2 eggs to the mix to allow it to set. While it was very tasty and fulfilling, the children felt defrauded because it was not a pumpkin pie as advertized. Sad. They declared it a waste of a pumpkin although I am almost certain that they hardly tasted it.
Deep Dish Pumpkin and Potato Pie
All in all, the children still insist that they must have steak every day to stave off decrepitude. But having tasty vegetarian recipes on hand sure is making the transition to a less-meat-centered diet more pleasant. Tonight, we are having French Onion soup…. I bet nobody will complain about that one!
Hey Vero 