About The Gym

There are a few things I realised at the gym this morning.

One:  I like going.  Even if I was my ideal 65 kg weight, I'd still want to keep going.

Two:  People at my new gym are nice too and I need to get over all this bullshit about missing my old place and move on.   People move through our lives at a certain time for a certain reason.  When life tells you it is time to move on it is because you are ready for new experiences.  Embrace the change.  This does not mean you don't treasure your old friends or the time you had with them.  It means you are accepting that there are good people and good experiences left to meet.  SURRENDER!

Three:  Sleep is important.

Four:  Balance is important.

Five:  Saying NO is important.  Realising that maybe now isn't the time to start getting up at 4:45 again is important.  Even if that new class looks really really great.  

Six:  Balance is really hard for someone like me.  I want it all.

Seven:  This has to be FUN, not about weight loss or about building muscle mass but about FUN!

Has anyone else noticed that I spend way too much time thinking while I am working out?!  This is why belly dance class on Thursday nights has been so good for me.  I only started recently, and our first dance is relatively straightforward but when my mind wanders - when I start thinking about how great this would be to write about or about how good I feel and maybe, just maybe, I should do that pump class at 5:30 AM tomorrow - I forget the steps.  I have to focus on the dance.  It is forcing me to be present in the moment.

Margaret also tells us that if it isn't working, or if it hurts, that we are trying too hard.  This is totally different from what I hear at the gym.  Push harder.  Try harder.  You can do it.  No pain, no gain.

Eight: What I have to realise is that personal trainers are trained to work with normal people.  I am not normal.  A normal person apparently hears these words and ignores them if they feel like it.  No thanks, I don't need to push that hard today.  No thanks, I don't need that extra effort.

I take every word to heart.  Why would they be saying them if they weren't meant to be taken literally?

It's an Asperger's thing.  Why do normal people keep saying they want one thing and then continually do another?!  I don't get it. 

So today I had fun and ignored the instructor if I felt like it.  Like a normal person.

I've been pushing myself so hard that a few of the trainers have told me to slow down and sleep in a while.  Note to self:  having five kids is not an excuse to ignore, but a reality to appreciate.

Nine:  I still had problems breathing at the end of the class and it's not all in my head and it's not all about stress.  And when I have problems breathing then I do start to breathe more in my chest because that is where I can't breathe.  It's not horrid, but it is uncomfortable.  And it is a sign of high blood pressure.  My vanity tells me to ignore it: I AM working out, I AM eating well, I AM NOT remarkably overweight or underfit.  But the reality is that 150/100 might need medication.  And how awesome would it feel to be able to run again without feeling so horrible at the end of it?

How much less stressful would my life be if I could breathe again?

How much less stressful is it once I realise that it isn't about getting there, but about enjoying being where you already are!

Worth Repeating!

There are no bears out there trying to get you.

There is only the life you asked for.

(Pause.  Moment of silence.)

Breathe.

On Kundera and Nietzsche; Colons and Parking Spaces; Louise L. Hay and Lao -Tzu

"I'm not good enough.  I don't do enough.  I'll never make it."

Did I say that?

Turns out that, although I did say it, and do say it often - to myself at least, subconsciously - it is a direct quote out of Louise L. Hay's book "Heal Your Body."

It's the thought process that leads to coronary thrombosis. Heart attacks.

No duh, right?

Anxiety, which I have been feeling ever since I can remember, is not trusting the flow and process of life.  All of which is bullshit, because I do trust the flow and process of life.  I just don't trust that it will flow well for me because I'm not good enough, I don't do enough and that is why I'll never make it.

All I want is for life to flow better for my children.

Which isn't going to work if I have a massive coronary worrying about which parking spot to take.

Or which route to take to school.  Or whether I should give them each two one dollar coins or one two dollar coin. 

I'm telling ya, anxiety sucks.  And no matter how much I keep telling myself how silly it is to be having heart palpitations over where to park, no matter how much I KNOW this is stupid, I have been having them over parking spaces since I had the twins in Germany.  Now THERE was a reason for worrying about parking, but no one cared, no one realised, and now, now here I am in an entire country of people who park wherever they choose, taking spots so large an American AND a German would BOTH shoot them over it! - parking on curbs, on grass ways, on lawns, wherever, really just about wherever you want, with as much distance between as you'd like - usually enough to just about fit in 7/8ths of the car I am driving - and I am still having palpitations.

I have been doing behavioural therapy on myself.  Which means that I just go and do it anyway.  I park.  I tell myself this is stupid and I park.  I ignore the feelings of discomfort and I do it.

I don't know if this behavioural therapy is supposed to make a person function better with the disability - which it does, I DO park and I DO park every day, multiple times a day.  Or if the feelings are eventually supposed to go away if you just keep doing the action that makes you uncomfortable.

But the feelings aren't going away.

On bad weeks - and YES, they coincide with my cycle, and God help me if this will get worse before it goes away - I also start breathing with difficulty over which route to take to school.

Again, I can talk myself through it.  And I do it despite the discomfort.  Over and over and over.

But it's terrifying to have to work this hard to do dumb little things you know aren't all that life altering no matter which you choose.   (I am going to have a mental word with Milan Kundera - and Nietzsche - about the Unbearable Lightness of Being : turns out Kundera also knows how to use a colon properly in a sentence: this means I can learn two things at once from him!)

I explained to the kids that I feel the way they described after running a 2 km race this week.  Aidan's heart was pounding so fast his chest hurt: I said I felt like I am running a race all the time.

Good news is that Louise L Hays has a three sentence fix for what ails me.  (I am currently reading Milan Kundera and plan to have a look at Nietzsche but quick and easy is good, right?!)

I have been writing her affirmations in a large notebook:  "I love and approve of myself.  I trust the process of life.  I am safe."

(Meanwhile I am going to use those colons until I get them right!)

I follow it with pages and pages of free writing which usually being with: "No, I don't."

I will spare you the rest. 

Instead I am going to focus on the fun things that are happening around here.  I firmly believe that these next few years are the best of my life; this despite that my body is physically trying to make me believe otherwise.  I don't trust YOU body, so there!  (Oh, and I am going to speak to a therapist tomorrow, so no need to worry if Nietzsche ends up being over my head.)

Ian is so much fun.  He played in the Pacific Ocean today.  And went pee pee on the potty.  Three times.  And he sings all the children songs with hand motions.  Better than any other almost-two-year-old, I am sure.

Ryan is going to be okay.  I am doing okay there, I can feel it.  (I am just SO EXHAUSTED by the struggle.)

Andrew is entering secondary school.  The world awaits him.

And the twins are only 7.

We have so much fun ahead of us these next few years.

Too much to have a coronary thrombosis.

Too much to have a panic attack over where to park.

Always we hope

someone else has the answer.

Some other place will be better,

some other time it will all turn out,

 

This is it.

No one else has the answer.

No other place will be better,

and it has already turned out.

 

Lao-Tzu

 

 

I don't know what this says about eternal return or lightness and weight, but it does help me with which route to take.

 

Because I'm already there.

 

Namaste.

 

Om.

 

And Amen.

On Reading the Label

Ryan has officially been diagnosed with Asperger's Syndrome.

Why we don't take the kids out to eat much!

"Good news," texted Catherine, "Now you can get the help you need."

The psychologist showed me preliminary results from cognitive and academic tests, all of which were just fine, and then the test that screens for autistic spectrum disorders (since they are taking Asperger's out as an official diagnosis, Ryan will now be considered high-functioning autistic). 

Even I was surprised at how high she scored.  99% in most things.

So, yeah, we're pretty sure she's on that spectrum.  (The preliminary tests showed she IS on the spectrum, further testing in two weeks will show how impaired she is by it.)

Serious study of Schleich horse catalogue while wearing her self-knit rainbow scarf.  In the car. In 30 degree weather.

In filling out further questions on Ryan's behaviour, it is more and more unbelievable to me that the psychologists in Germany missed such a pretty straight-forward case.  (Although I've just learned my cousin's child has been diagnosed as well, and in Germany, so they HAVE heard of it!)

We are so fortunate to be here.  Not only are there provisions in place for dealing with special needs children in the mainstream schools, but there is government help for families.  And there is a general acceptance of everyone's uniqueness that includes a genuine acceptance of - not just sympathy for - people with disabilities and special needs. 

There are no horses in AFL football!

"How do you feel?"  asked the psychologist.

Relieved.

I do get teary eyed every so often as I consider that my child has autism.  My beautiful baby girl has something going on in her head that makes life harder for her.  It keeps her from organising her thoughts, from self-motivating, from starting, seeing through and finishing projects, from remembering basic maths concepts, from tying details up into a big, coherent whole.  It makes it hard for her to get up out of bed in the morning.  It keeps her from making friends.

I would have been devastated if I had known this when she was first born.  Or worse yet, in utero.  My perfect child is well, frankly, less-than-perfect.  My baby girl is less.  I figured my skills at parenting would be to show the world to my child, to have her soar and excel, to rise above, sail beyond, offer her all the opportunity to soar.

I didn't think it would be reviewing basic maths facts again as she glowers at me with dislike.  Sitting in silence next to her waiting for a dance performance to begin, while all the other families around us chat and laugh with one another.  Because Ryan doesn't want to speak to me - she is concentrating on the show - and cringes when I put my arms around her.  Or teaching her how to shave her legs, something I learned with my best friend, Jenny.  Because I am her best friend.  I am her only friend.  And the enemy that makes her get up in the morning at the same time.

 

Miley Cyrus impersonation in Caboolture

 

It's also hearing how brilliant she is when she goes for her weekly riding lesson, how mature and motivated and responsible.  Uh yeah, she can't fit in with people her age at school, but I bet she can get a job working with horses the minute she hits legal age! 

It's watching her belly dance at a seminar with about a dozen other people, all women older than she is, and many of them professional dancers.  And holding her own.

It's enjoying her bond with her flute teacher at her weekly lessons, quietly, through their shared love of the music.

It's allowing her the time to sketch, and watching that talent grow.

It's realising that the silly little book she has been reading on her tablet - My Little Pony -  is actually written on an adult reading level!  Even if it is about Celestia and the Magic Kingdom.

It's understanding that her love of these shows - including all her horse shows - is also the way she navigates human relationships.  That she relates to the gang on "Friends" as friends.  That she learns her life's lessons from "Heartland" and "Twilight" and "Saddle Club" relationships.

It's acknowledging that maybe this is better than the crap she would be picking up at high school!!!

It is knowing that I am going to be leading her on this journey for longer than most parents, and be more integral to the success of that journey.

It is the awareness that her specialness is a gift to us both, that it has made me stop and reevaluate what I had always taken for granted:  that one needs to struggle, to push, to excel; that one has to fit in, do what everyone else is doing, be what everyone else expects you to be. 

It is learning that I am not in control, that I am dust in the wind, blown about by the universe, that nothing is certain and nothing is permanent.

It is letting go and letting life take us all wherever it will, not where I am trying to push it to.

How do I feel?

Those test results are no surprise.  We knew she was different.  We knew she was struggling.  A diagnosis helps us explain this to any one else in her life who needs to know.  (Although, I find, now that we have the diagnosis, I feel less of a need to explain.)  It helps us get some support - both for home schooling and health care needs - that not only helps us financially, but gives me some validation that I am doing something of value, a job the government sees as valuable, that home schooling a child with special needs IS hard, is valuable and is every bit as worthy as re entering the workforce as a veterinarian.  (I know I shouldn't need this but.....)

Most importantly, it gets us help if she does choose to go back to school at some point, even a few days a week.  It gets her help at university.  It gets us both help now, in learning how to cope, how to learn, how to grow, and how to stay happy.

We are happy.  And we have been doing quite well.

I don't think much will change in our daily lives just because of the diagnosis.

It's just nice to finally have it acknowledged that there IS something going on, that it isn't my fault, or Ryan's fault, or some flaw in my parenting or our home life.  That Ryan doesn't need to buck up and fit the system, toe the line, get with the program.

And yes, this is what I heard in Germany.  And sorry, dear friends in English Group, I know you cared about us, but I heard that this is what you had been saying.  It hurt me.  And it made me isolate myself, at the end, from a great bunch of ladies who got me through the darkest times of my life.  You were there when I was depressed, you were there when I went into the loony bin, you were there through the miscarriages. 

I don't think any of us understood at the time - and it was the months before we left Germany too - that I was fighting for my child, that my anger was a result of the helplessness I felt in the face of a system that just wasn't going to help her.

How do I feel?

Exhausted.  I feel like I am at the end of a huge struggle that started when Ryan entered first grade.

Vindicated.  That I was fighting for the right thing.  That what I felt - and did - was right.

Sad.  That there was so much anger in me.  Sad that it did cost me the closeness of friendships I valued.

Hopeful.  Because we are on the right path.  And because anything is possible.

Matthew's Worst Nightmare

Matthew came out of his bedroom yesterday morning looking particularly groggy and extremely concerned.

"I had a bad dream, Mommy." he told me.

Serious Matthew.

Andrew and Aidan are the monsters and scary bad guys men; Andrew sleeps with the twins ever since he started reading ghost and supernatural stories and Aidan occasionally falls out of bed when fighting off particularly gruesome monters in his sleep, but this was a new one coming from Matthew.

He looked so sad.

"Why don't you tell me about it, honey.  Sometimes that makes you feel better."  I told him.

He very earnestly related the following dream:

"Daddy brought home three chocolate Easter bunnies for a treat."

(Uh oh,  three, I thought, alarms immediately going off in my head.)

Slowly, very seriously, Matthew continued:

"And then he gave one to Ryan."

Oh.  The agony of early childhood.

Slower still:  "And then he gave one to Andrew."

A pause, some choked sobs, before he bravely continued.

"And then he gave one to Aidan."

Big breath, looking me squarely in the eye

"And there wasn't any Easter bunny for me."

WORST DREAM EVER!  What do you say to something like that?!

Hard to stand out in this crowd.

If I'd read it in a book I'd say it was too obvious to believe.  But really, I don't make these things up.  I don't have to!

And so I hugged my Easter-bunniless child and made it better. (I reassured him that that would never happen.) An hour later, when I asked him to tell Daddy his dream, he had already forgotten it. 

Damon told him we would have shared the bunnies equally, even if we had to bite their heads off to do it.  THAT, as it turns out, was the right answer, severed bunny heads apparently being immensely reassuring to an insecure five-year-old boy.

Making cookies with Mom!

As I tell Andrew when I kiss him before bed - you'll need something to share with your therapist later on!

My Kids, My Heroes

"Mommy says I look just like Daddy!"  Damon and Matthew

Khalil Gibran, a Lebanese American artist, writer and philosopher, said it best.

Your children come through you but not from you.
You may give them your love but not your thoughts.
You may strive to be like them, but seek not to make them like you.
For life does not go backward nor tarries with yesterday.
You are the bows from which your children as arrows are sent forth.

Krishan Chopra, in his book "Your Life Is In Your Hands: The Path To Lasting Health And Happiness" (from which I also picked up the above quote), explains it this way.

According to the law of karma, a child is born to particular parents and a particular environment because his karma - the accumulated impressions of all his past actions and experiences - requires him to acquire certain physical and mental characteristics and have certain opportunities in this lifetime.  He does not get a good or bad environment because of his parents, but because his own karma places him in a situation in which he can, if he so desires, utilize his accumulated knowledge and abilities and add to them.

I like karma.  It places the responsibility for your life into your own hands.

Krishan is worth listening to.  Not only is his book a fantastic explanation of Hindu beliefs and values, he is obviously no slouch as a parent either.  His son, Deepak Chopra, seemed to turn out okay.

"Uh oh.  Mommy needs pictures for her blog again!"  Aidan and his sight words.

In essence, the concept of karma says that your children chose you as their parent for a reason.

I'm still trying to figure out what my kids are getting from ME, but I sure as heck am learning a lot from them.

This week the peer pressure on Ryan from the girls in her class got so strong that I finally spoke with the vice-principal.  Getting your bra snapped by anyone, even another girl, is bullying.  Although Ryan is no stranger to bullying - it was considered normal and routine in Germany - it was a welcome change to have help from an adult authority figure.  Guess what?  Not okay in Australia.  But even with help from the adults, this situation is not going to go away.  Ryan is not going to conform.  And the pressure - right now it is to join THE GROUP on a 3 day camping trip the school has planned in 5 weeks - is not going to go away.

And so Ryan has decided not to go camping. 

That kind of blew everyone away.

But why would she want to spend time with kids who are trying to control her and tell her what to do, who won't leave her alone, let her do her own thing and be her own person?

Ryan on Jack.  Now THAT's a big horse trying to buck my little girl off!

The adults are worried about her 'missing out' on a school experience. 

The kids will continue to pester her. 

And Ryan will continue to quietly walk away and do her own thing.
I have no idea how this confident, self -assured child came from needy, attention-seeking me. 

But I really couldn't be prouder.

She is so happy with her horses and her riding - this week she was the only one Jack didn't buck off in the field - and with her sketches and well, HERSELF - that she doesn't need the confirmation of others telling her that she is okay. 

Jack figures he might as well listen.

It would have made parenting her for the past few years a heck of a lot easier if she HAD wanted to please me.

From Ryan, I am learning to be my own person, to be less needy and more confident in myself.

Andrew is teaching me to be a better person as well.  And also to stick up for what I believe is right.  Maybe that's why I had to become a mother.  I doubt I would have stuck up for myself the way I will for my children.

This weekend Andrew was placed in goal for both halves, despite the deal we had with the coaches that he would play one half in the position he loves, in the field.   I wasn't there, it was Damon's turn out the door at 7 AM, but they were playing The Pythons, the strongest team in the league, and the pressure was on.  Losing 0-4 after the first half, even with Andrew in goal, the coach coerced Andrew into playing goal again in the second half, while Damon was away signing the volunteer register.

When Andrew protested the coach told him "You HAVE to stay in goal.  You need the practice."

Andrew was in tears, but he did what his coach asked of him.  And he did it well.

Andrew teaches his class about hip-hop.  (Mr. Biri on the right.  AND note the use of whiteboard and computers!  21st century in THIS continent's schools!)

Damon was furious.

I would have pulled Andrew off the field.

The coach isn't a bad person.  He just made a bad decision.  He chose points in a game over the joy of a 9 year old playing that game.  He broke his promise - and the rules of fairness and sportsmanship - in order to look better on a scoreboard.  And- although he doesn't know it yet - he's lost one of his most valuable players for next year.  Go and find yourself a goalie NOW!

What Andrew couldn't understand is how an adult could go back on his word.  But he played on anyway.  What a champ. 
How could I not, as a parent, step in and pull him from this kind of coaching?  He knows what's fair and he knows when he has been let down.  And now he knows he is worthy enough for his parents to stick up for him.

In goal.  But itching to get on the field and run.

I'm actually trying NOT to make waves the past few weeks.  The academic thing flew by with no issues.  The camp thing will have bigger repercussions since now other people are considering withdrawing their children as well.  But, for once, I am not doing any of this to make a statement or because something isn't right or because I can't have it my way.  I am simply doing what is best for MY kids given the present circumstances.  Am I going to change the peer pressure in Ryan's class?  No.  But I can help her not have to deal with it over a three day sleepover.  Do I want to have to struggle with Andrew's coach a second season?  No.  And so we change teams, and leave him to his decisions without trying to change them.

I copied a quote onto a sheet of paper once.  I'll have to credit the author - also of Indian descent I believe -when I find it again.  It goes like this.

You can't always change the circumstances.  But you can change your circumstances.

I was wise enough fifteen years ago to recognize that it should be written down.  But I had no idea what it meant until this week.

I don't have to change the world or fight for what is right in order to quietly make things right for ME, my kids, and our personal circumstances.  Things only change when you make choices for yourself, instead of worrying about making them for everyone else too.

My Brumbies making pizza.

Maybe that's what being a leader really means, not forcing everyone to follow you, but setting an example and allowing them to make their own decisions based on that example.

Ryan and Andrew have taught me to do things for us, for me, and for them.  Without worrying about what everyone else is going to do.  And being their mother - and seeing how strong they are - has made me strong enough to make those decisions.

How this crooked bow has sent out these straight arrows is beyond my compression. 

But I do strive to be more like them.  And am grateful that they chose me to be their mother.

Sheep versus Brumby

Although New Zealand is the country most renowned for its sheep in this region - 25 years ago the ratio of sheep to people there was 20:1, a number declining rapidly as sheep numbers drop - Australia actually has 100 million sheep to rival New Zealand's current 35 million.

In comparison, the USA has 5 million sheep, comprising a mere 1% of our livestock.  (We prefer beef - and have the useable acreage to support them.  Nothing like genetically modified, hormonally enhanced American beef.  Sadly, I jest not.  YUM!)

July 2011, Brisbane

But you've got to know me well enough by now to know that I am not talking about those sheep.

I'm talking about me.  (What do you MEAN, it's not about ME?!)  And I'm talking about most of us. 

C'mon.  You know it's true.  For the vast majority of us, life is way more comfortable in the herd, in a familiar field, surrounded by the picket fence we know than alone in the bush without any boundaries.  Bah!

I'm the worst kind of sheep, as it turns out.  I'm a sheep who wants to run around and do her own thing on occasion and then wants the herd to accept her back and love her anyway.  After she's pushed the boundaries and jumped the fences.  Love me.  Love me.  Accept me.  Bah!

So that I actually understand the girls in Ryan's class who are currently having difficulty understanding why she is insisting on doing her own thing.  What do you mean you aren't going to do the same thing as the rest of us?  How can you NOT want to join us on the playground?  You're in our group - if you do what we say.  You're ALLOWED to be with US - if you follow our rules.  How can you be comfortable enough in your own skin to rather sit and sketch horses?  ALONE?! 

Bah!  Bah!  Join the herd.  How can we be comfortable with ourselves if everyone else isn't validating us by doing the exact same thing that we are?

I am not mocking these girls.  I was these girls.

April 2007, Stylin' at Lake Garda, Italy

Ryan tells me the girls are 'the bad girls' and that she doesn't like doing what they do.  She doesn't want to get in trouble.  And, apparently unlike her former best friend, she is not interested in trying to impress these girls by joining them.  Even if they are encouraging her to.

You have to feel sorry for her friend who just doesn't seem to understand how Ryan can NOT want to join up.

I don't get it either.  How did a people-pleaser and joiner like me - BAH, BAH, - raise children who are confident enough to do what THEY want and not what OTHERS want them to do?!

How did a sheep end up raising a Brumby?!  (Wild, Australian ponies, the counterpart to the American mustangs.)

And - as it turns out this week - it's not just Ryan. 

Princess and Pirate, August 2007, Herrenberg

Andrew too, is resisting, not peer pressure, but pressure from figures of authority, figures he respects and has been taught to listen to - ie me and his teachers - and gone his own way.

I couldn't be prouder.  (Although I'm still looking backward at the broken fences and wondering if it wouldn't have been easier to stick with the herd this time.  Bah!  Bah!)

This week Andrew and Ryan both chose sports over an academic program.  (Let's put this in perspective.  Isn't it wonderful that they have too many fantastic after-school options to choose from?!)  Honestly, I'm not sure why the teachers - even the sports teacher - seemed so surprised.  I did all those competitions in school too - but mostly to get out of regular classroom time - and mostly because it was the highest level of achievement there was and I was expected to.  Bah! Thinking back, I don't know that I can say I ever really enjoyed it. 

I was under so much pressure in school - even though I always did well - that I recall the ride home after my last day of fifth grade, sitting in the back seat, up the hill past Nick Rosen's house on the right.  The weight of the world dropped off of my shoudlers at the thought of almost three months summer break.  Literally.  My shoulders must have physically come down at least a couple of centimetres.   Knots unraveled as the tension eased.

Mind you, I was in FIFTH grade.  And a straight A student.

I also hated group work.  Because most of the time noone else got much of anything done and I ended up doing it all myself.  I felt obligated to.  By highschool it was more than self-imposed pressure.  The teachers EXPECTED me to carry the group.  I remembered getting reprimanded by an English teacher in 12th grade because I hadn't given it my usual effort and the project hadn't been up to my usual standards.  (We - horrors of horrors - got a 'B'.)  I told her that I was sick of doing everyone else's work - that I had done my own.  And she said "yeah, and look at how well that turned out." 

I am not making these things up.

March, 2007

So that when the teacher in charge of an extracurricular academic competition that runs for the next six weeks asked Andrew to give up his Wednesday afternoon sports program to join the group, well honestly, who can blame him?

Soccer.  Extra schoolwork.  Soccer.  Extra schoolwork. 

Ryan just met a 14 year old girl who wants someone to ride her 16.2 H, 8 year old Thoroughbred mare with her in the afternoons.  I would have suggested half the days riding and half doing the academic program but when the teachers insisted it was all or nothing on afterschool time, well, again, this was a no brainer for Ryan.  Honestly, I'm not sure I find it healthy to want the kids to spend ALL of their afterschool time on this program anyway, even if it is for only six weeks.  And how am I supposed to just drop all of our other commitments at a moment's notice?

I guess I'm less of a sheep than I used to be too.  Although I do keep looking back at that fence.

In any case, I would have had the kids do the program.  I had it all scheduled out.  Since Andrew has soccer on Tuesdays and sports on Wednesdays then those would also be the days that Ryan could go riding.  That left Mondays and Thursdays for the academic competition.  Fridays were  up for grabs.

It would have been an exhausting, logistical nightmare for the next six weeks - but not something I was strong enough to say 'No' to.  How lucky for me that the teachers insisted on unlimited commitment of our time.  (Once again, WHO can do that?!  And HOW?  I would really LOVE to learn how anyone can be not busy enough to on the spur of the moment just devote six weeks of their time to ONE temporary project unconditionally.  Not anyone I know personally.  It boggles the mind.)

August 2007

I'm obviously still struggling with the decision. 

"No."

Who knew that such a little word would be so hard to say?

And so easy to say for my kids?

So that I'm left chasing after my two Brumbies, still uncomfortable with NOT conforming to the expectations of others, but so totally psyched that they are both confident enough in themselves to follow THEIR dreams and not mine, or anyone else's.

August 2007.  Definitely their own people!

It's a wild ride with these Brumbies.  But I am learning more from them than I ever did as a sheep.

My Hero

For ten years I've been telling my daughter that she is good enough. Good enough to do what the others do, good enough to be like everybody else.

Because I'm a wimp and always made sure I could go with the grain before I went against it.

Ryan was supposed to be like me, surpass academic expectations and then do whatever she wanted.

Fit in first. THEN do what you want. Where the hell has that gotten me?

Ryan is her own person regardless of whether she fits in or not. And don't get me wrong here, she doesn't fit in at all. She's a bit odd, flighty, spacey, slow, dreamy, creative, and in her own world. And she doesn't mind; she does what she wants.

How brave.

She's in constant trouble at school. You see, she doesn't know her place. She is smaller, slower, darker and weirder than the other kids. Which would be fine if she would just acknowledge her inferiority and take her proper place in the heirarchy. Do this. Play that. Be completely grateful that she is a part of it at all.

The teachers certainly don't know what to make of her. Ryan is perfectly content to just be herself, regardless of what the others think. How rare.

I'm taking lessons from her now.

I was trying to give Ryan self-worth by having her fit in.

She is teaching me self-worth by showing me I don't have to.

Fighting for the Prize

Written in response to Fatherhood Freestyle: You Are The Prize. By Dr. Mike McRae

My daughter, Ryan, has been walking to school with Jule and Julia since the first grade. I was so excited to have it work out. It meant that I was "integrated" into the community, that I was a "good" mother doing good mother things, and it freed me up from having to walk her to school in the morning myself.

Integrated, good and free. Me, me, me.

It has never been the best arrangement for Ryan.

Julia is playing with Ryan at our house as I sit here and write this. (Having valiantly tried to eat an American sandwich and soup for dinner.) Jule, on the other hand, has never been anything but rude from day one of first grade. Her mother, Heidi, is an equal bitch. (Jule is too young to be a true bitch and is actually very attractive, intelligent AND clever. She's just had to learn to take care of number one from an early age, poor thing.)

The first two years the three girls walked together, Jule's older sister Maya walked with them. Julia and Ryan would wait outside Jule and Maya's home while they got ready (they were often late) only to have the two of them run on ahead without even a word of greeting. This went on for two years, Julia's mom (Claudia) wanted to kick them out of the group, and I said, "Be nice." Be the bigger person. Don't make waves. BE NICE.

I am so ashamed. What have I been teaching my daughter about her self-worth?

Since the third grade, Jule (and Heidi mostly) have NEEDED us. Since Heidi is raising Jule to be independent and self-sufficient (meaning that she doesn't want to have to be bothered with her), Jule is consistenty late. She also cried when she came too late to the group meeting point and missed the other two girls. "Couldn't the mother help that poor girl get it together in the mornings?" we asked. But again, "be nice" won out. Ryan picks up Julia and then the two of them pick up Jule, still waiting outside in the dark and cold while she gets herself ready.

On the way home, however, when it is not cold and dark, and Jule has other, cooler friends she would rather be with, she leaves Ryan in the dust. She has also been treating her like dirt in school. In December, Ryan was so depressed that I had to have a talk with her teacher. (They don't help much here in Germany; the kids are supposed to work it out for themselves. Mobbing is huge and kids learn to take care of themselves first.)

Yesterday, when Ryan told me she had had to walk home alone again, enough was enough. I called Heidi and told her it just wasn't working out. One of the problems, besides the basic lack of respect for me and my child, is that the other two moms in the arrangement have grandparents who pick their daughters up after school a couple of times a week. That leaves Ryan with only one of them to walk home with. It also means they really don't need me, and my daughter, in the afternoons the way they do in the mornings.

I've been bending over backwards to "be nice" and to "fit in", but where is the concern for my needs? Or for Ryan's self-respect?

I'm very disappointed that my friend Claudia, Julia's mom, has decided to continue the arrangement with Heidi and Jule. All along, she has been telling me I was right and that she would stand by me, and by Ryan, in our decision. But when it came to direct confrontation today, she copped out. She tried to get me to compromise myself - and worse, my daughter, yet again. It has been almost FOUR YEARS. "But can't we just at least keep the morning arrangement going?" What, my daughter is good enough to pick everyone up at 7AM but not good enough for the afternoons when they don't need her anymore? "But isn't Ryan going to feel left out?" Well, she's feeling pretty left out already, every single goddamn afternoon.

The real feel good ending would be if Jule and Heidi got kicked out of the arrangement, had to learn a lesson, and became better human beings. It's the one I was hoping for. The real world ending leaves me driving Ryan to and from school alone and the other two moms trying to work it out. Noone is very happy with this arrangement either - including Ryan who likes walking to school with her "friends."

What am I teaching Ryan about friendship, though, if I allow this to continue? It's been too long already. "But Jule is nice to me if Julia is there." says Ryan optimistically. "Sometimes she is nice to me." She is thrilled with any crumb that is thrown at her.

I've taught my daughter to be nice (in a country that really isn't big into being nice to others).

It's time I taught her about what's right and wrong. (Integrating and fitting into into a system isn't all so great if that system is WRONG. And there, I have said it.)

And it is WAY PAST TIME I taught her self-worth. She is the prize.

Fatherhood Freestyle: You Are the Prize : WeParent

Cannot say it any better than this. MUST READ.


Fatherhood Freestyle: You Are the Prize : WeParent