I woke in the middle of Sunday night under the oppressive heat of two sweaty and hot bodies piled on top of me. Mom and Dad are gone on vacation, so Bob is sleeping down at the farm all this week. Knowing I am quick to pass out in bed at the end of each day, Saoirse and Ula took full advantage of his absence and my oblivion, and invaded my space without my knowledge after the lights were out.
But just before midnight, I was fully aware. And I wanted my own bed. We all had to be up and running extra early in the morning so that Ula could attend her first day of camp, an experience she has been pleading for the last year and a half. We all needed our sleep. And these two fast-growing girls are no longer small enough to let that happen comfortably in one big family bed.
I tried nudging them gently at first. They didn’t stir. I tried lifting them. They’ve grown too heavy. I whispered sweetly, “Girls, c’mon. You need to go to your own beds.” No reaction. I grew annoyed. These girls are too old for this. I am too old for this.
I shouted. “SAOIRSE AND ULA! I CAN’T SLEEP BECAUSE YOU ARE ON TOP OF ME. GET UP AND GO TO YOUR OWN BEDS!” They rolled over.
“NOW!” They grumbled that I didn’t need to be so harsh, then stumbled off, leaving me to my space.
And only a few hours later, I was waking them again so that Ula wouldn’t be late for her first day of camp. Over breakfast, I informed them that they were old enough to stay in their own beds, that I needed my sleep as much as they did. Then we loaded up the car and took off for Ula’s big adventure.
Later that day, I picked up a little Ula who was slightly confused. As a homeschooler, she had never been in an organized group of kids before. Her impression of the day was that they spent a lot of their time waiting on line and raising their hands to speak. We talked about it, and I explained that this is how things work when large numbers of people are trying to learn or experience something new.
The next day, she got up easily, ready to play the part of anthropological participant-observer and experience standing on line and raising her hand first-hand. She dressed for the event. After donning shorts and a t-shirt, she found a piece of sparkly pink diaphanous fabric to wrap around herself as a cape. She added bling to her sunhat by inserting a feather and pinning a silk scarf to the back. I rejoiced in her flare and snapped a photo before we headed out the door.
When we pulled in, at the last minute, she chose to leave her cape in the car. But she proudly took her sunhat and wore it as she waved to me while I pulled away. When I picked her up, the hat had been shoved into the bottom of her bag. I said nothing.
On the third day, she came home particularly tired and cranky, prone to spurts of crying, all unusual behaviors for my spirited little wonder. I cancelled all afternoon activities. I left Saoirse with Bob down at the farm, and brought her home. We cuddled together on the screen porch with mugs of mint tea and read a book. I didn’t get up to cook supper, I didn’t put away any laundry, I didn’t water the flowers, I didn’t walk the dogs, until my Ula re-emerged from her dark cloud.
She came back to me. She found her smiles and giggles once more, she found ways to annoy me by climbing all over the furniture. She played with the dogs, she put on music.
Bob and Saoirse came home for supper. And as we sat down at the table, Ula admitted that she hadn’t eaten the lunch I’d packed for her.
“But you asked me to make you deviled eggs for this week,” I said. “I packed what you wanted.”
“Yes, but the other kids were staring at my food. They thought it was weird. So I just put it away.”
“What were they eating?” asked Bob.
“Sandwiches with juice boxes.”
“We don’t eat sandwiches, and we don’t drink juice, honey.” I reminded her.
“I know. But they think I’m weird.”
Bob and I looked at each other. This awareness was coming sooner in Ula’s development than we had anticipated.
“Sweetie,” I said, “we are weird. And it isn’t because we can’t have the same things. It is because we’ve chosen something different as a family.”
Bob explained about how we avoid things like bread and juice, because it makes blood sugar swing, which makes kids at first energetic, then overly hungry and cranky. Saoirse reminded her that juice boxes were extremely wasteful. Ula nodded in blank-faced agreement. Then I asked her about her cape and sunhat.
“I decided they would think the cape was weird, so I left it in the car. I thought the sunhat was okay, but then the kids told me that was weird, too, so I took it off.”
My heart broke. It isn’t that I didn’t know that this was coming. But I thought it would happen later. Ula is only six. Saoirse, who will be 10 this summer, is the one I expect to be more self-conscious. But they are different. Saoirse, while she is shy, prefers to dress her own way and do her own thing. She doesn’t make friends quickly, and she doesn’t care. So she dresses and eats as she likes. But Ula loves people. She loves making friends. Until now, she has always made them easily, just by being herself. Suddenly, being in this group, she seemed to believe she would only make them if she didn’t stand out. To me, it felt like a fall from innocence.
But I keenly remembered my own experiences growing up. I was embarrassed that my mother made me homemade cookies and that I had homemade bread for my sandwiches at school lunches. I was so afraid of being different in kindergarten, I opted for absolute silence. The teacher requested a special conference with my parents because I refused to speak at all. Following a few years in the system, I grew tired of seeking invisibility. I began to wear a flat cap to school every day, along with bright colored shirts, yellow suspenders, and hightop sneakers with big, fat mismatched laces. I said what was on my mind, and chose to celebrate the fact that I was different.
There were days I was fearful about my choices, but something inside railed against the pressure of conforming, and I had two parents at home cheering me on with my emerging personality. That helped a lot.
I told this to Ula and Saoirse over dinner. I told them how I came to realize that anyone who was comfortable with me looking a little different in school usually turned out to be someone fun to be around. I told them how some of the other girls started getting hightop sneakers, too.
They laughed, then ran upstairs in excitement, wanting to decorate their clothes and Ula’s lunchbox.
But I went into the other side of the house and began to cry. I know we all go through this. We hippie, crunchy, live-in-harmony-with-the-earth-and-just-be-yourself parents have already emerged from our struggles with mainstream society. We found our souls and we walked away. And somehow, in my own choice to walk away, I have taken it for granted that my children wouldn’t have to wage the same battle in their souls.
But they do. They cannot follow in my footsteps. They have to experience the same struggles, ask themselves the same questions, make their own choices.
And I don’t want my little baby to have to ask those questions yet. I want her to be my sparkling Ula, with her slightly crooked eye and her purple glasses and her brilliant costumes and her made-up songs and her world-famous dance routines performed in front of the woodstove.
I can encourage and cheer her on, but I cannot choose for her that she will stay this way. Changes are coming.
To wear a cape and sunhat with a feather and a silk scarf because you like it is innocent pleasure. To wear a cape and a sunhat with a feather and a silk scarf because you like it, and you are fully aware that others do not, is an act of bravery. But it must be a chosen act. It cannot be done because Mommy tells you to do it, and it may take years to work up that courage. And so, aside from assuring her that she is beautiful and celebrating her uniqueness, I must respect her choices, tell her I love her no matter what, and watch to see what unfolds.
I came to this resolution last night, dried my tears, then went upstairs to read bedtime stories. The girls dutifully went to their own beds, we turned out the light, and we all went to sleep. A few hours later, Ula called out in the darkness.
“Mommy?”
“Yes sweetheart?”
“Can I come cuddle?”
“Of course.” I pulled the covers aside and made room for her, then snuggled close, taking in her scent, feeling her baby-soft skin as we wrapped our arms around each other, just grateful for every lingering moment I can have with my baby before any further changes hit.
Thank you. Thank you for your email explaining that you needed the creative writing outlet to “right” yourself, how you missed your little reading community, and of course, for sharing the story of your beautiful Ula’s debut on the social stage with her peers.
I do wish we could allow others to be themselves, and ourselves to be ourselves, as a people. At this stage of our evolution as a species, we continue to mistake sameness for unity, and difference as a threat. But things are changing, too.
The parents at my son’s charter Waldorf school in Eugene are a mix of gay, straight, transgender, adoptive, and step-parents. Many of these kids partake in bake sale items and drink juice boxes, but there’s a palpable feeling in the school that unique expression is fine, if not downright normal, thanks to the loving mix of parents we have. It helps that we agree to volunteer a minimum of 40 hours of our time during the school year, so that real relationships are built between parents and the children.
The more we parents (and grownups) have the courage to be our kooky selves — wearing capes or daring to live in congruence with our deepest self understandings — the more we are helping to create a world for our children that is as varied, colorful, and authentic as the natural world. And like transitioning from conventional monoculture crops to holistic farming practices, we are only at the beginning stages of a large work, the work of generations.
Your two daughters are amazing and wonderfully creative, the apples don’t fall far from the orchard. it is a joy when I hear their voices at creative, imaginative play and see how they interact with friends. They have both good parents and role models..but yeah… life can be hard on a free spirit- and on her mom too. Thanks for sharing.
p.s. new site looks good.
As always, thank you for the post. I missed you! I also have a 6 yr old- he finished kindergarten in public school this spring- and we sometimes struggle with “weirdness”…For us, juice boxes are merely a treat at others’ houses, sandwiches made with homemade bread, fresh ground peanut butter from the co-op, and homemade jam are packed in reusable snack bags or washed/reused plastic bags. I’m trying to think of me self as providing a confident role model for alternative lifestyles (but of course, why does it have to be considered “alternative”?). But I am with you- I remember struggling and finding my own way eventually, and it can be so heartbreaking to watch your own children wrestle with becoming their own person amidst so many obstacles. Knowing other crunchy parents struggle too is immensly comforting (because your confidence encourages my own courage). Thank you!
Your post struck a chord in me. I started homeschooling my 10 year old son last December because I saw his unique spirit being crushed by the group mentality. He loves that he can choose the people that he spends his days with and I have seen a tremendous increase in his self-confidence. My husband and I wish that we had not waited so long to embark on this awesome journey!
thank you for sharing this, and thank you for being such a wonderful example of what it’s like to be really vulnerable as a parent and an open human being. My wife and I have lived these kinds of experiences with our adopted son many times, and it breaks our hearts every time; it never gets easier. It is reassuring to read your blog and know that we’re in this together, and to be reminded that it is worth whatever it takes to live this kind of life.
re: my comment above (from Ed M) :
I didn’t write ‘your comment is awaiting moderation’; where did that come from?
Hi Ed – I don’t think that “your comment is awaiting moderation” appeared to the cyber world. I think it is just a note to you informing you that your comment needs to get approved by admin (me) before it goes life. My understanding is that, once I’ve approved you the first time, you will hopefully be clear to comment without my approval in the future…HOPEFULLY!
Thank you for another thoughful post. It reminds me of my 8 year old son who decided not to play baseball this summer. He said, “Mom, I’m just not into it like some kids, that’s not the type of boy I am.” And I thought, “You know what? You’re right, and that’s just fine!”
Beware this is lengthy…Thanks first for sharing, I no longer share a bed at night with kids, but they have to be chased out when dh and I want our time to crash at night and so on, even the 2 adult children have pondered in when bored, but rarely, so treasure it and play musical beds as long as you sleep fairly well. I do fondly remember sharing our bed and room during storms with kids and dogs only to have to crash in their beds so I could sleep soundly.
Today I get wake up calls causing me to come settle fears of evil doers in the news or from ideas planted from movies, now I cringe and long for the messy diapers, but this too shall pass. The big adventures are all about learning and how you were there as always.
We found that public school children are like sardines just trying to cope with government school, but even their parents can’t cope, they do the same things. Not I hope no one gets mad but it is true and I was one of them, but I eventually changed that for me. These folks are our mission and our brethren in life so squeeze in but in your own way, and just hold hands while you can until your little ones make it being their own person. Be glad it takes so long to learn so much, you can be there all the way.
Tell Ula I love her bling and have always loved her gifts and creativity, many consider that weird, it is just a unique vision on life that makes it beautiful and a treasure. In fact I found her beads her and her sister gave me, they are stored in my prayer table and from time to time they come out and get prayed on with a big smile. May she never lose that and have others desire it in a good way. I spend my time daily convincing 2 teenagers to hang on to that and not to get frustrated as they accelerate in one area and go in reverse in other areas. Sometimes I wonder what I ever taught them, but we have 2 adult children now and they are good eggs, so keep up the good fight of loving them. The younger 2 are blossoming but due to their brightness they have more defined personalities.
I remember many a time of changing and removing layers of clothing to be plain and fit in, and then get frustrated and then throw care to the wind. It will all work out, keep the faith and know they will forever remember your love and c are and encouragement.
Your daughter is blessed to have you care to her needs and changing plans to help her through her day, a thing many a parent cannot do, but you can and do. Another treasure for you, perhaps create a thank you book, a book to pull out and just write simple lines and words of what your are thankful for. So for me when I write or respond, it is that I am glad simply because I can write and be able to reach another soul. (Now if I could only make good sense at all times).
May children’s giggles always remind us how they live in the now, kind of like our pets, and they remind us as adults to let go and enjoy. So today I did just that, my daughter and I had gotten on each other’s nerves and then helped each other and ended the day having a water fight and watching a show together and laughing. May we try that every day, even if on a smaller level. That is the beauty of humans, we are created in an image of creativity and love to do and share and for it to go on for ever generation after generation no matter how hard life can be. That is something no other creature can do.
You make me smile on kids not eating lunch or taking care of themselves for one reason or another, those are the teaching moments and we would be billionaires if I had a dollar for every time that happened. By the way I love deviled eggs so if you make some I will gladly gobble them up, so tell Ula to beware. One quick easy tip to save you time and make easy lunches is to sent things cut up for picking, or send berries, cheese cubes, crackers or bread sticks. It is fun and easy to share. As for drinks, ice cold water is great and then we make sure at home they get the other stuff. You can also make a biscotti cookie stuffed with good stuff like you would in a granola bar and made in small sizes for small hands. I have done that for years and my dh and I are the biggest fans. It is great for hikes too.
Weird, odd, unique, yup that’s us and many others, may that become the norm, it makes for more interesting days and years of memories. In fact we pride ourselves in that and found kids actually love that. Perhaps find a home-school group just for support so the kids can feel less odd until they see it is actually normal and desirable. I know it is hard to do where we live and with a business, but ask and ye shall receive
Fortunately you can still tell your kids about your life, when they get older I pray they don’t give you the I don’t care about your life response. Teenagers, even the best of them can be heartless, but I promise you the aliens will bring back the children and you will recognize them and they will grow up. I sometimes think the youngest is more wanting to be accepted and the oldest is more independent, but they all have their place and will figure it out with you loving parents. As for your heartaches, they are just that, but it is really a dose of love kicking in to remind you it is hard work and worth every moment of it.
As a teenager I had a hard time finding clothes that would work for me, I ended up mixing boys and girls clothes until I got the look and the fit I needed. Being athletic and thin as a child made it hard. I long for those days now that I am older and rounder, so enjoy the quircks with the girls, it is priceless, in fact spend a day taking corny pictures, and even save the blurry ones, they are your priceless memories and the stories they could tell. Although Napoleon was quite the difficult character he was right in that a picture is worth a thousand words. Sorry we just finished that unit in history and we had a good time with little Napy, oddly he really was not that little especially for that time.
There are still days I fear about my choices, but that something inside is love that is cheering us on with my emerging personalities. Please continue to share that so others can see the great gift you have and others can experience that by simply knowing you and your stories. That help s us all a lot, think of it as black and white therapy. The written word shared is a quite a piece of entertainment and encouragement.
Thank you again for being creative and may the girls share that with others. This world needs more creativity and less sardines in a can, although my dogs would heartily disagree with you about the sardine thing. As for crying, sometimes that is good, just not for long and unfortunately I think we do more of that as we get older, just let them not be bitter tears. Let them be tears of love and caring that you can be happy to have simply because they are your tears and you know your little ones are growing up and have you and many good and Godly things that will bring them through it all. As a very kind priest told me just the other day, it is a noble and good thing to raise such children, as today’s child has become a drone or zombie like creature that is disconnected. Wow did that make me love our kids and our life more, and he was and is right. Keep in mind that every generation will learn the same things but in a different style, but truth is truth and we must show them what that is and persist in a loving way.
Please be glad as these girls will follow in your footsteps just in their lives, and you are right it will be their own choices but they will remember you and yours words and your love all the way to the end of their days, wow that is a gift, so priceless. What an image to be created in.
Make sure to take pictures and plaster them to the walls, and make scrap books or dvd’s or whatever you enjoy, memories are good. Don’t forget to recornd their voices and songs. As for the hats and capes you are never too old, it reminds me why I like to change clothes, or dress up or down or sing or dance. It is more fun sharing it and they will just as you have.
Keep on loving, keep up the hugs, and keep up the smiles, even a sleepy smile is worth a thousand memories.
Consider a quilt made of fabrics of what is left around, it will make an amazing gift for the girls. Also let it take you a long time to make, perhaps have them help you. Perhaps have them have their friends help out. Thanks for letting me sound my horn, I feel better sharing too.
May you all have blessed day and enjoy this summer.
Peace and prayers on another mountain, Tatiana