Evolutionary Parenting

Every now and again, I like to log onto TED (www.ted.com) and watch inspiring videos of what humans are achieving in the world beyond my own small life.  Last night, whilst waiting for our younger DS to settle down, I thought I would lay in bed and catch up on what TED had to offer.  Out came my iPhone and before I knew it, I was relishing in the amalgamation of technology with medicine, mammoth artworks made from fishermen's nets and the attempted genetic modification of a chicken to create a chickenosaurus or dinochicken, because chickens are dinosaurs don't you know.

But one story that caught my attention was the talk entitled Let's Talk Parenting Taboos, delivered by Rufus Griscom and Alisa Volkman who own www.babble.com, an online portal for parents.   Rufus and Alisa start the talk off by saying that when they got married and fell pregnant, much was discussed by their friends and family about parenthood, but when the big day arrived, and the reality of parenthood set in, they realised that a vast amount  been omitted - the ugly stuff that doesn't get spoken about.  They wanted to create an online space that would tell it like it is and hence Babble was born.

What struck me was what they considered to be parenting taboos.  The first one they decided on is that it isn't always the case that dad's fall instantly in love with their newly delivered offspring.  Now, I don't know if it is because it was this was a TED conference and they didn't want to offend anyone, but I would have loved it if they also said that a lot of women don't feel instant love for their new offspring either.  I know that I desperately wanted a child when I fell pregnant with my first child.  However, when my DD arrived, I remember being totally overwhelmed, at the tender age of 24, by the enormity of the responsibility for which I had just signed up.  I just sat in the hospital bed and cried.   Yes, everyone thought I was crying from overwhelming love and happiness, and if my darling daughter is reading this, yes, honey, I was crying from overwhelming love and happiness, but also for the responsibility I suddenly felt ill prepared to take on - for the next 18 years of my life, which by the way turns out to be forever because you never do stop loving and wanting to protect your children.

I also cried because no-one told me that a women's stomach doesn't snap back into place the moment the baby is delivered.  As naive as it may sound, I genuinely believed that as soon as the baby was delivered, and the placenta along with it, my tummy would be as taught as before.  Imagine my shock when lying in my post delivery bath, I looked down to find my tummy skin ebbing and flowing to the ripple of the bath water.  Yes, people, ebbing and flowing!!  It was almost doing its own horizontal mexican wave!  I stood up to find that I had an apron and that I had to get back into my pregnancy clothing.  Now it is true that I put on a whopping 23kgs with my first child.  Everyone kept telling me I was too young and not ready for a child (and judging by my reaction above, they were probably right), so I ate to look pregnant.  It was a totally conscious decision.  I thought, rather than wait for the four or five months to start showing, that if I helped nature along a bit, gained enough weight and started to look pregnant people would applaud my life nurturing decision rather than tell me I wasn't ready for it.  So, yes, I probably was around 12kgs too heavy when my child entered into the world.  However, nothing had prepared me for the flap of skin that was left behind.  I don't remember reading that the uterus takes a long time (weeks) to shrink back to its original walnut size.  Of course, now in my forties, I realise that biologically it would be impossible for a muscle that was the size of a walnut stretched to the size of a watermelon, to suddenly snap back to its original size.  But at the time, I didn't know.  I was humiliated by my changed body and I didn't know what to do, so I cried.

The second taboo mentioned was that of being lonely when you have a baby.  This is one with which I definitely agreed.  No-one does tell you how lonely it is.  All you imagine is you sitting there with your baby playing blocks, its beautiful eyes staring at you, giggling.  Oh, how life is going to be wonderful.  All I can say is curse you nappy and baby cream ads.   What they don't tell you is that babies actually don't interact at all for the first six weeks (they only smile at four weeks and that's only if you don't mistake it for wind) and not much until around 6 months when they start being able to sit up and see the world around them.  All they do is eat, poop, sleep and cry.  Boy do they cry.  No-one tells you that the crying unnerves you and no amount of times going through the routine taught to you in ante natal classes (are they hungry, wet, full of wind, tired) can save you from the ever-eroding self confidence that a new mother inevitably undergoes.  I was constantly on the phone to my mom asking if I was doing something wrong.  The confidence of my youth was rapidly leaving me (and is only now, after one has left home, starting to return to anywhere near its former glory).

Suddenly, my friends, who weren't in committed relationships, never mind ready to have babies, no longer saw the fun in me as a person.  I couldn't go to restaurants, to the movies and even walking the dog proved to be like a mission impossible.  I would try to cook but that was impossible (you will hear mothers talk about how they learned to peel potatoes with one hand.  I used to think that was a crock, but it's true, you do learn how to do that).  I would try to talk on the phone - impossible.  Anything and everything is impossible to complete when you have a baby.  Do not believe the Wii Fit ad that has that woman with the triplets doing ten minutes of a fitness routine whilst her babies sit and smile at her.  It's rubbish!  I found myself wondering what age is the youngest you can send a child to preschool and I found myself envying those mothers that "had to work".  I wondered whose dumb idea was it that I would be a stay at home mom!  This was not the fun I imagined it to be, that was for sure.

Then, around a year to 15 months they start to walk.  Oh, that's fun!  They don't so much walk as catapult themselves around a room.  You pretty much find yourself standing permanently trying to catch them from doing some harm to themselves because they are only as tall as the nearest coffee tables.  Suddenly, seemingly innocuous furniture seem to grow monstrous personalities that are determined to harm your child (for whom you now do have an overwhelming love and protection).  Socialising is just exhausting.  I remember my sister yelling at me once when my child kept interrupting me and I would break our conversation to hear what my DD had to say.  "Can I not have a conversation with you without being overshadowed by a four year old!" she yelled.  I felt awful, torn between my sister, who I didn't see that often, and an incredibly demanding four year old who had no concept of "in a while darling, mummy's just talking."  Thankfully, years later, my sister phoned me to apologise after the birth of her two children.  Suddenly, having joined the Lonely Parent of a Demanding Child Club, she totally understood.

The other two taboos was the fact that a woman is not allowed or supposed to talk about her miscarriage and that you can't say that your average happiness has declined.  I will leave the miscarriage for another post as it warrants that, but again, I agree with the fact that parents on the whole feel compelled to say how much better their lives have been since they had children.  I believe that my children have enriched my life in ways that I could not have ever experienced had I chosen not to have children and I have definitely matured (you can spot the fifty year olds who have never had kids a mile off), but there were times when I felt so low, as a parent, as a person and as a woman, that I wondered if it was always worth it.  Parenting is hard.  You lose yourself, or at least I felt to some (I admit quite shamefully, large) degree, I had lost myself.  I did not want to be defined by my children and I didn't want to be defined by motherhood and in fact I fought against it - a lot.  I spurned the mother's groups, the forced kids activities, the let's stay at the party moms, now I realise, much to my own detriment.  It took me a long time to reconcile  that my role as a mother would take over everything else I had to offer as a person.  I was definitely never prepared for that.

As I sit here today, with my 18 DD now living with her boyfriend some 20 minutes away, independent, strong, I believe I must have done something right on the very rough road of parenthood.  She is not conventional, opting against university, wanting to do things her way - much like her mother.  I see people's reactions when they hear that she isn't going to university and has moved in with her boyfriend, but I don't care, I am so proud of her and the wonderfully sensitive, kind and compassionate human being she has become (a sure sign of a totally biassed mother).  When the time comes for her to have children, I will gush and goo and tell her how wonderful motherhood is, but I will also tell her all the things that people don't mention - the shock, the loneliness, how your pubic bone hurts like hell as your womb grows, and how some people are unfortunate enough to get piles, among others.  My parenting journey may have been a rocky one, much like everyone's I reckon, but that doesn't mean it wasn't a valuable one that did result in a love for my two children that is so huge that my heart wants to burst every time I clap eyes them.  I call it Evolutionary Parenting!

Clinical depression and weightloss

Well, this week, I was diagnosed with clinical depression.  I've known it for a long time.  Even before my mom died last year, I knew my soul was injured and the physical me just withdrew further and further into the shell of my home.  I no longer see any friends, I feel my family is broken, especially with the death of my mom and I feel like a total failure as a wife and mother.  It was inevitable that I was going to break down, although I tried for the longest time to hold it all together.  My sister and husband had seen the signs for years, although I was in total denial.  My will to live was reaching an all time low.

So, I ended up at the doctor and the diagnosis was delivered.  Medication, therapy and group support have been prescribed so, it would seem, all is in hand.  But, I don't want to bang on about my depression - it consumes every fibre of my being - I really want to focus on how I am going to beat it.  As you know, 15 months ago, I became sober, giving up alcohol totally, so that is a step in the right direction, although it would appear, not enough to help life my depression.

The next thing on my list is my weight.  I am 30kgs overweight, which is a lot to lug around every day.  I cannot deny that it affects me in every way.  I hate going out socialising because I always feel like a giant (I am usually the tallest and the fattest), I definitely avoid the beach (and I live near some beautiful beaches), it goes without saying that I loathe clothes shopping and even being at work, I feel like I have nothing to contribute because how can someone as overweight as I am be taken seriously.  I conveniently have a desk at work that faces the corner with my back to everyone else.  It has come to suit me very well - like the proverbial ostrich that buries their head in the sand, I feel like if I can't see them, then they can't see (and be appalled by) me.

Of course, for the last five years, I have avidly watched the Biggest Loser and for the last five years I have been in awe at firstly, the immense bravery of the contestants showing their bodies in front of a nation, and secondly, the transformation.  As I sat on my recliner with my feet up, stuffing my face with chocolate, I have wished like hell that I could find the motivation to stick to a diet and lose the weight, thereby enacting my own transformation.  Of course, for five years, nothing has changed - well, except for my weight, which has increased in that time.

So, this week, I joined the online Biggest Loser club.  This is not the first time I have done this - like most habitual dieters, I do a rotation of all the popular diets; weight watchers, tony ferguson, biggest loser - but there is something about the Biggest Loser that I like.  I guess having a series attached to it makes it real, inspirational and with that is the notion that perhaps, just perhaps, I could achieve the same results.  My first week, I have lost 1.4kgs, but I have to confess this is not through sticking to the program.  It is probably more about not eating as much chocolate, although that can't be true - we've just had easter for goodness sake.  For whatever reason, I have lost it, and it is quite nice to see I have lost "one blob".

Tonight hubby and I were watching the Biggest Loser and the last five contestants did the reflective hike where, during a long hike, at intervals the weight they have lost is put into a backpack.  By the end of the hike, they are carrying the weight they have lost, effectively weighing what they weighed in the beginning.  After the program, hubby came up with the bright idea of getting me to feel the weight that I am carrying, thereby giving me a physical representation of how my weight is affecting my energy levels, and hence my mood.  Before I knew it out came the hiking back pack (now moulding after years of lack of use) and hubby was scouting the house for items that would add up to the 30kgs I had to lose. And this is the result:

Normally, I wouldn't show myself in such a public fashion but in the spirit of attempting to emerge from the dark cloud that sits with me, I decided to be honest with myself and confront the reality.

This is what hubby scouted around the house to put into the bag - yes, an entire set of dumbell weights, numerous books and a cast iron lid!!

I can tell you, it was quite horrible to carry it.  Hubby's passing comment? "How can you possibly feel well carrying this around, my love."  How very true!

The Wrath of Nature

Our televisions have recently been filled with images of the devastation that have hit Christchurch in New Zealand as well as the catastrophe that hit Japan. One woman in Christchurch survived the quake, only to return to her home to find an enormous boulder, dislodged from the mountain above from an aftershock, had ripped through her house like some wrecking ball on a mission. She was lucky, unlike others who, having survived the earthquake and had returned to their homes to survey the damage, had been killed by other renegade boulders.

The devastation has been huge with the water particularly being affected by sewerage pipes that were ripped apart in the earthquakes in Christchurch and the radiation contamination in Fukushima. As I watched the coverage, I wondered what Mother Nature is up to? I mean, since the beginning of the year, we have seen Queensland and Victoria devastated by flood, Western Australia devastated by fire, birds seemingly randomly falling out the of the sky, Christchurch devastated by an earthquake, not to mention the catastrophe that continues to unfold in Japan - and we haven't even got to the end of April. It seems that every week we are seeing footage of one disaster or another.

A quick gander across some forums tell of a story of the beginning of armageddon. With all these disasters befalling the world, wouldn't now be a good time to find Jesus, we are asked in one. This is the beginning of the end of the world, it has been foretold by the end of the Mayan calendar, 21st December 2012 is the end of the world, we are told by another. Climate change advocates tell us that this is the result of our wanton disregard for the precious resources that the earth provides, that the greed that capitalism engenders and the prolific consumerism that it encourages is slowly killing the earth and now it is fighting back. It certainly does seem like Mother Nature is groaning under the strain of all that is going on in our world.

We stand at a population of nearly seven billion, more than double the population in 1965. Surely we have to ask ourselves if this is indeed sustainable. Is it any wonder that Mother Nature is reacting. Are these just random acts of devastation, or is this indeed an earth that is yelling out for us to be more accountable, more considerate, to stop the consumerism, to stop the wars and to find some way to live in harmony with the wonderful gifts with which She provides us every day. It is certainly food for thought, don't you think?

Traditional Family Values - Extinct?

Whilst on my way to work today, I tuned in to my local radio station. The topic for the ten minutes was whether or not traditional family values exist. The argument, according to the middle aged presenter, was that The Brady Bunch should return to our screens so that current up and coming youngsters can learn what true traditional family values are all about. The Brady Bunch episodes would always culminate in the entire family being together either at the dining table or in the lounge discussing the moral of the episode - the proverbial image of families talking together and solving problems together. The lines were then opened to hear what the general public thought about this notion and indeed the notion of traditional family values and whether or not they still exist.

An expert was called in who categorically declared that the traditional family values of sitting down and eating together do not exist and that it is due to technology that this is the case. Then a plethora of people called in. Most of them wanted to make me puke. You know the kind. The goody-two-shoes types you used to hate at school who would tell on you if you were passing notes. I listened as mom after mom phoned in to say that they had traditional family values and that they insisted upon it in their family (not a hint of jealousy there, see?). I wanted to hit each and every one of them. I preferred the ones that phoned in to say that it was a miracle if their family got to see each other for more than five minutes in a week. In fact, I liked them a lot.

This got me to thinking. Why was it that I despised the family-value supermoms and loved the family-value wrecks. Was it because that I indeed fell into the category of the latter. Let us have a look at it. I am in my forty's. I have a husband, an 18 year old and a nearly 13 year old. I work part-time, my 18 year old is hardly ever at home and the only time we get to talk is in the car when I am ferrying her from one place to another (which admittedly is quite frequently). However, she announced the other day that she really hates my incessant questions in the car, to which I snapped that I wouldn't ask so many questions if she would volunteer some information on her life, rather than have me extract them like some painfully wedged in wisdom tooth. Strike one there then.

Our 13 year old has PDD-NOS and Sensory Processing Disorder. For those unenlightened (as we once were), PDD-NOS (which is short for Pervasive Developmental Disorder - Not Otherwise Specified) is a mild form of autism and SPD is a condition that renders the sufferer unable to filter sensory input. They, by default, find communication on any standard level extremely difficult.

And isn't that the point of the Traditional Family Value (which we shall term TFV for short) of getting together at the end of the day? For families to get together to communicate, to talk about their day and find solutions to the day's problems as a collective family? I wondered at my own upbringing and tried to remember our TFVs. We sure enough sat down each night to eat at the dinner table, but more often than not, my parents would end up arguing. Us three kids would just look at each other, rolling our eyes, sighing at yet another chaotic meal. Eventually, my father would insult my mother and I, being the eldest and feeling the most protective of my mother would jump in and have my say too. We invariably would end up in our rooms not talking at all (and even perhaps a bit hungry because the meal had not been finished). However, sure enough, the next night, we would all have to sit down to begin the ritual again. By the time I was 15, I began a protest and simply refused to eat at the dinner table.

When I became a mother, I imagined a life of TFVs and the Brady Bunch image of eating together, talking through our problems and celebrating our successes together. But, alas, the reality just didn't gel. I was exhausted, suffered terribly with post natal depression and it was all I could do to get the food down the baby's throat so I could curl up and find some blissful sleep. As the children got older, I returned to study and then to work. Time became an issue. The children couldn't wait for my husband to get home as they would be too hungry, so I would feed them early. Being almost six years apart, the conversation was somewhat difficult. They certainly did not want to communicate with each other. I would try to eat with them, but gave it up in favour of adult conversation later in the evening. While they were eating, I would try to complete household tasks so that my house didn't permanently look like a bombed flat in Beirut. The TFV dream seemed to be slipping away.

Eventually, I didn't even think about the TFVs. We succumbed to technology (which, frankly, I love). A TV and laptop in each room and a mobile phone for each person. When we have dinner, sometimes we manage to eat together, but more often than not we don't. TV eating is big in our household. I get the feeling I should be ashamed of that, but somehow, actually I'm not. I realise that society's demands are a double-edged sword. It demands as a mother you expose your children to as many activities as is humanly possible, jamming their every waking moment with some learning experience. But then, you also have to make sure that they have enough time to slow down and sit quietly at the dinner table (and even at lunch on the weekend) to talk and be together. Frankly, with all the activity we are shoving at them, it is incredible they even have the energy to eat, let alone talk and solve problems as well.

As it happens, neither of our children do 'activities'. They are extremely anti-competitive and as such don't do sport/music/dance. Our 18 year old doesn't talk, full stop. It wouldn't matter if we made her sit down and eat with us, she would still glare at me every time I asked her a question about her life, like I was invading her privacy. Our son blurts out random things whether we are at the table or not. As parents we can make sense of what he is saying, but again, sitting at the dinner table would have no baring on that at all. As for my husband and I, well, we have always done our talking in bed (among other things), when we have crashed after a very tiring day of working, cleaning, cooking, running kids around, etc., etc.

In fact, I am wondering, really, why we have a dining table at all. All it is used for is a dumping ground and on which to do homework when the kids don't want to be in the study. I guess it is a symbol. A symbol of an ideal - of a family that sits around it at each and every meal time, talking animatedly about their days, sharing and caring in that Brady Bunch way. I guess it is an allusion to a TFV I once wished I had, but now realise is just a pipe dream (loaded with guilt for the time strapped mother). Maybe one day, in act of rebellion, I will burn it, but for now, I'll keep it ... just in case.

Change is hard to accept

Wow, three months since my last post. A lot has happened.

It is funny how life is in a constant state of flux. Nothing ever stays the same. It is a lesson that I have been slow to learn and I still struggle to accept. Today, I am having to cope with yet another major change in my life. Our 18 year DD is 'leaving home'. I put the words in inverted commas because she isn't really leaving home in the "this is it, I now have a new address" sense. Rather, she has a new boyfriend and now spends more time at his house than she does at home.

I am surfing unfamiliar territory here. My darling hubby is totally accepting of the situation, citing that this is natural and exactly what should happen. I am less accepting of this situation. As if the loss of my mom was not enough, I feel a deep sense of loss for my daughter as well. I know that technically she still lives with us, but we recently went on a two week holiday, and she opted not to come with us. Then when we returned she opted to stay with her boyfriend and told us that she would see us "sometime on the weekend". Ridiculously, I have taken this totally personally.

My mom was my best, and at times, my only friend. I struggle to make friends largely because I am a bit of a homely hermit and tend to stay indoors a lot (plonking away on my computer or surfing the net on my insatiable quest for information). When I lived in the UK, my mom and I would meet up three or four times a week and talk and window shop for hours (I have mentioned this before). I guess my expectation was that my relationship with my daughter would be the same. I had this idea that she would want to spend time with me and we would talk for hours on end laughing and revelling in each others company. Romanticised, hey? But our relationship is nothing like it. Our DD is head strong and quite independent (except when it comes to getting a job and earning her own money, but more of that another time). For the last two and a half years at least her friends have been far more important to her than her family. I have no way of knowing if this is normal. I never had a huge circle of friends and up until the age of 38 stayed very close to my parents and in particular my mom. I do remember my boyfriend being more important to me than my parents and lying to them to be with him when they forbid it - does that count?

My husband says that it is perfectly normal and a good indication that we have done a good job. She feels confident enough to go out into the world and be her own person. I still worry and I am not enjoying this new change that is settling on our family. Our son is now essentially an only child (which, frankly, he seems to be enjoying just a bit too much). I feel like I am going through an empty nest syndrome without all of my children having left home!

We have yet to meet the boyfriend, but when I speak to her on the phone, she is elated with him. He seems to tick all the right boxes - good education, employed, independent - but that doesn't mean anything really, does it? I just wonder if I am being over protective or, dare I say it, selfish. The last two years have been difficult for her and I. I am strong and quite volatile. I was brought up fearing the wrath of my father, and fear him I did. At times I would "lose it" and apply the same tactic with her, especially when I felt disrespected by her but she would respond by being more head strong and simply doing her own thing. It created a huge rift between us. My mom said that it was karma because I was the same when I was her age but I don't remember being quite so headstrong. Maybe I was, I don't know.

The upshot is that I don't want her to leave home. I want her to stay a little longer so we can become friends and mend what I perceive to be the rift. I feel desperate, like a child. She is the mature one - independent, knows her own mind. I have never had that confidence. I've always second guessed myself - even now as my daughter prepares to venture into the world, I am wondering if I have done a good enough job and feeling wounded by the fact that my 18 year old doesn't want to spend more time with her 42 year old mother.

Of course, as I am writing this, I realise just how full of self pity I am and how much "it's all about me" I have become. I have probably been this way for at least five years, but no doubt longer. Our daughter is safe, well and happy. Why can I not be happy for her and for the fact that we have brought her up to know her own mind? Because in my mind, I expected her to fill the role that I filled for my mom - as friend and confidante. You see, I am realising with me that it is all about expectations, of which I seem to have many, and that when those expectations are not met, and they rarely are, I am almost devastated. It takes me a long while to adjust course and be happy with the new direction as it were.

I am reading a lot about living outside of oneself. Living to do for others rather than concentrating on what is going 'wrong' in one's life - the perfect antidote to self pity. I think that I realise that I have lived a great deal of my life lamenting what has not gone according to my expectations and that I need to start living outside of myself. It is hard for a person that is very introspective, rarely ventures out except to work and shop and is used to getting her own way to accept this, but accept this I must. At the age of 18 my daughter is brave and strong and able to face the world and 42 years into my life, I must do the same.