Losing sleep and buying presents for new-to-parenthood adults

A new era has started in our house – an era of no afternoon sleep for our toddler (and no cat naps for me by the same token). It’s been on and off for the last three months but it looks like he has decided to drop it for good now. Every transition phase in a family life, even as small as this one, is challenging and tiring at the same time. A lot of miscommunication happens in transition phases – what I once understood as a sign of tiredness on the part of our little boy, now becomes a request for extra entertainment and I must admit it took me a while to grasp it, perhaps a tinge of denial clouded my parental perception, but it looks like I am now a mum of a small boy rather than a toddler. Could this be the case? So soon?

I suspect that our son is also confused by this new wave of energy that embraces him in the middle of each day. So when today, just after midday, my little companion turned into a roaring dinosaur and then into a savage shark that ferociously dived into the tormented sea of our duvet with no intention of reverting into a sweet and sleepy baby-boy the shark once was, I thought to myself that it’s probably a sign that we’re done with afternoon naps and it’s time for something else now…

More serious mothering… maybe? I noticed that there are many no’s to exchange now, more boundaries to set, new negotiations to engage in and I am slowly finding myself within this new parental landscape. But ‘slowly’ is not a word that goes well with being a mum of a 3 year-old. I have a very curious and a very fast son and I love this about him but recently I just find it really hard to keep his pace and you know, as a parent, it’s actually better if you’re a bit quicker than your child, a millisecond will suffice as long as that millisecond is there… And if you are as big a dreamer as I am, you are probably more than one zillion milliseconds behind.

There are two books that mainly helped me (and are still helping) with developing good communication habits with my son. I would not have any qualms in presenting these books as Christmas presents to new-to-parenthood adults. So if you have anyone around you with small children, do not hesitate investing in these two sources as they are really helpful and enlightening.

The first book is by Jesper Juul (2011) entitled Your Competent Child.

The second is by Janet Lansbury (2014) and is called No Bad Kids: Toddler Discipline without Shame.

Two wonderful and helpful guides. They are really kind and understanding in tone and message and I cannot help but love what they recommend and how they explain the role of parenting and honest communication between children and parents. Of course, I do not necessarily read them as gospel, but I feel that they came to my life just at the right time.

Let me know if they do the trick for you and your loved-ones too. x

The universe got it right by giving us the seasons

The wind has started blowing a bit harder and the sun escapes from view much earlier these days. But home feels so cosy and just right for staying in. I like our home. I love the books scattered around the house, the remains of our toddlers’ adventures that need scooping up towards the end of each day, the fruit and vegetables in the baskets in our kitchen, even the sink still filled with pots from today’s cooking episodes. I think the universe got it right by giving us the seasons. The late autumn and winter and the cosiness that we experience of our own homes – doesn’t it support one view? That where we are is home. That where we are now we should be now, at this given moment in time. That everything is as it should be.

I will be using this winter to grow the same level of cosiness in my heart and look for every feeling in me that sends this warmth to the world and back to myself and my family.

What do you do to cultivate warm feelings?

Follow your child’s gaze

Just before the night sets in I sit down on a bed with my little boy, we surround ourselves with a number of picture books and we look through the images and I read to him. Depending on how busy our day was and how alert we both are this little ritual of ours lasts from 15 minutes up to an hour. I love this daily encounter with different adventures, poems and stories but most of all I love this very peaceful time with my child and the feeling of unity that it creates.

Years ago I was wondering what it is about reading or rather following a particular story which creates this feeling of togetherness. I decided that the answer partially is held in our gaze. We look in the same direction. We see things together.

When we go about our days with my son I try to follow his gaze. I try to look where he looks so that I get to know him better, so that I learn what his interests are. I hope that through this he will find courage to stay true to his interests later on in life and to be sure that whichever direction he will turn to, I will be watching this with interest too.

As part of my own development I often listen to podcasts and interviews on creativity, curiosity and calling in adult life and I like to link them to how I see childhood. Over these very first years of my son’s life I have formulated a very firm conviction that at the moment, at the very moment of being and becoming, curiosity is his only calling.

I owe it to his future to respect this.

Check the podcasts that inspired me to write the post above: http://robbell.com/portfolio/robcast/

Uncoil your spine

Over a month ago a physiotherapist very kindly and thoroughly examined my reflexes and muscle strength and firmly recommended Pilates. It was this or no hope to my overstretched and exhausted backbone. I left the physiotherapist’s room relieved. I had my signpost now – to how to look after myself and tend to my body. I don’t know about you but I feel I need a bit of direction in that matter. Over the years I got somewhat detached from my physicality as other things just were much more important. Now, three years after pregnancy and this extensive period of lifting and moving around with a child, my body decided to remind me of itself. And it’s lovely that it did. Pain is such a beautiful thing sometimes, it’s a call for personal attention, a call that we just must eventually answer, embrace and respectfully respond to.

So I did. I responded to my battered back with a respectful tone of Pilates and… a new way of life and thinking has opened before me.

It’s interesting how often our body reflects back the quirks of our personality and how at times it calls for changes in our behaviour.

A month ago I lied down for the first time on my Pilates mat and as I was stretching my back I heard the warm voice of my instructor: Less haste. You must be carried by stamina not by momentum. Do it slowly. Stretch slowly.

My whole world view collapsed. And a new one started forming.

I observed people who exercised with me. There was a man and a girl who were stretching themselves with wonderful grace, and with wonderful control and technique. I admired them. No jerky movements, no rush to complete. Just grace.

Yesterday I was there again and while with some exercises I did not struggle at all to the extent that I almost felt that just after a month they became my second nature, some other exercises really pushed me hard. The contrast between the two experiences was so strong that it shocked me. How can one thing feel so easy and the other so difficult? One muscle overworked, the other left untouched. Can they not work in congruence? My instructor bent over me again: The strength will come. Just do it. Slowly. Progressively. You’ll gain control over it.

Ever since my son was born I feel that we all have been going through a lot of growth. That together we have been uncoiling our spines to become confident and straight-walking people. His spine has been uncoiling mainly in a physical sense as he slowly progressed from being a newborn to a walking and running child, my spine has been straightening and strengthening through a lot of questioning, personal challenges and strong internal debates about my values and place and vocation in life. Perhaps the reverse will need to be happening now: as my toddler enters the questioning phase, I will need to look after the practicalities of life and the physical side of my vertebrae.

Now I know how to. By stamina, not by momentum.

The bridge where tantrums melt

There is a bridge close to my house where tantrums melt and calm proceeds. I’m not quite sure what it is in that place that pacifies difficult feelings and makes more reassuring communication possible. Maybe it’s the joy of reaching a destination that does it or the task of feeding ducks or just being surrounded by nature or maybe all of these things taken together. Life just seems to float there. Just like the water under the bridge.

It’s not only the toddler who needs the bridge. I need it too, to quieten my internal communication with myself. August has been quite intense for me as the next few months are likely to be. When the pressure is high, I really appreciate open spaces more than anything. Perhaps I also have got a kicking and screaming toddler in myself who can only collect herself when out in the wild.

When I used to work in my dad’s orchard, my sister and I would spend a lot of time just looking into the sky, watching the passing clouds, connecting with the heavens. I noticed that my son loves doing it too. Looking up, breathing deeply. It’s reassuring, isn’t it? That under the clouds we are all small people.

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