Last week I wrote how I had decided to finally follow my dream and chase the sun with my husband and kids.
Well to do that I needed to make a plan. I know I could have just leapt blindly, but as a mom and still a student myself I couldn’t just have us pack a bag and hope for the best!
Logically step one was to research trucks, and insurance:
After researching we choose this awesome truck:
Stay tuned for step 2: researching and purchasing a trailer!!!
There are times when I get caught up in ensuring that Mr.C is “on-track” or “at grade level” with his peers. I get fixated from time to time on the lists lit up upon my computer screen of all the things our local school board says he should know at this time. Lists of facts and figures, books they have chosen, grammatical rules and scientific theories. But no where in their reams of pages does it speak of morals, attitude, creative thinking, leadership skills, ingenuity or honour.
When I get caught up on what he does or does not know academically, I remind myself of the following:
I am not here to create a robot that can spout facts or scientific theories verbatim, but lacks the ingenuity to put them to productive use when he needs or even wants to do so.
I am not here to force him to memorize plots and dialogues, but lacks the critical thinking skills to grasp the significance of some of the literary works of art we currently have access to as a society in general.
I am not here to ensure he conforms to someone else’s standards, but lacks the honour and strength of character to stand up for what is right when what is wrong is being accepted as the status quo.
What I AM here to do is to teach him to (eventually) be a good man. To be the type of person others will be proud to call their friend, their ally. To be someone with enough courage to stand up for what is right, even when he’s forced to stand alone to do so. To be a man of honour, of integrity, to be a man of ingenious leadership abilities, even when he’s only leading himself along his own path.
Don’t get me wrong, I DO teach him academics, but if it takes him a bit longer than some piece of paper says to learn about the periodic table of elements or the correct placements of commas I’m okay with that. Why, because he’s learning SO much more right now, he’s learning how to become the man he will be for the rest of his life.
Plus if he forgets the standard conversion rate of ATP to ADP he can Google it, but when it comes to things like strength of character well there are some things you just can’t Google 😉
Remembrance Day is almost over, but the sentiment it is meant to express lives within my heart every day. It’s a day to remember those that have fought for our freedom. Those whose blood and sometimes very sanity have been shed in a quest to keep their family, friends, neighbours and even strangers safe; from those that would oppress. From those that would annihilate others that are different then themselves. I was grateful to those that served before I became a mother, I was taught how my freedom had been garnered through the brave sacrifice of others. I loved history as a teen, I found reading it at times appalling (some of the horrifying actions done in the names of advancement, religion, and so many other excuses that were used to justify atrocities) and at other times it was heart-warming, and inspirational. I learnt at a young age that no soldier chooses for the wars to start. But they do choose to be the virtuous, honourable men and women that fight, and defend, and stand strong in the face of atrocities so vile the majority of us couldn’t even handle one day of, never mind several months or years of. They do this, they live through it all, just so we are spared those very same atrocities.
Then I had children. One summer afternoon I watched as my eldest (then just 3yrs old) rode his tricycle on the side walk by our apartment. I watched as the sun glinted upon his hair, the warm breeze carried the scents of someone’s barbecue, mixed with rich blossoms and his laughter glittered upon the air like crystals of joy as he finally got the hang of peddling. It struck me at that moment how lucky I was that others had fought so I could experience this moment as only one can when there are no threats to the very peace and freedom that affords such a moment. Later that night I went home and looked up how to write to soldiers. I found that as long as I knew a general area (operational address) I could send letters any time of year and that a Canadian soldier that does not receive mail would be given the letter. I have sent letters since then, and until every single member of our Armed Forces is home I will continue.
I still send letters throughout the year, because I don’t just remember when the red poppies start to appear. I remember every day I am blessed with the freedom to raise my children the way I see fit. I remember every day that I can walk down the street without fear of enemy forces invading our land, and the ensuing horrors that would be wrought. I remember every single day. As we all should. No, as we all NEED to.
Well tonight I finished modifying N’s little blue backpack into a harness style backpack complete with a “tether strap” as it’s called when one is selling it apparently. (I looked online but figured why pay that much money for one when I’ve got everything here to convert a regular toddler sized backpack instead) In reality it’s a leash and it’s attached to my child via the backpack. I have fought doing this for a while, and each time we went out I would faithfully ensure I had the stroller and he was buckled in. Once in a while I’d walk holding his hand, but with his aversion to touch so often holding hands is NOT something he’s in to doing, and letting him just roam and hoping I can catch him when he darts out onto the street in less time than it takes for a car to hit him is NOT something I’m cool with. In fact it terrifies me, and while I KNOW I’ll get the inevitable backlash for “treating my child like an animal” (trust me I had this reaction with C, and I hated it. I hated that no one could see I JUST wanted to keep him safe.) And I know I’m going to upset people with doing it with N.
Here’s the thing though, I can’t NOT do it. Well I’m sure I can in fact, but my heart is pounding from the moment we walk down our front steps. I’m sweaty and nervous as I carefully grip his wrist/forearm (he won’t hold hands at all) I’m watching every direction, frantically looking all around us and trying to watch him at the same time. All the while I’m still holding onto him for dear life. I try to get to our destination as quickly as I possibly can get him to go, and frequently ask him if he wants me to carry him. Why because he doesn’t understand danger, and that makes me terrified. He runs towards moving cars because he’s so fascinated with cars in general. And trying to just say “No” or “Stop” does NOT work with him. especially since he’s often overloaded auditory wise and covers his ears, but doesn’t ever stop moving.
Now, tonight we went on a little walk with his new modified backpack. I held his forearm while he was walking down the stairs and then I let him just walk. He got to choose where we went because I was just enjoying watching him finally have the opportunity to discover his neighbourhood at his own pace. We stood at one point and watched a cricket and I told him about how the cricket makes music. He loves his backpack, and insisted we put cheese in it for our walk 🙂 He’s not upset by it, even when he tried to dart towards the street and it stopped him (he didn’t fall or anything, he just couldn’t go any further than a few feet from me) he just looked back at me and then pointed at the cars speeding past and smiled saying “brooms!” which is of course his word for cars. So yes I loved the peacefulness with which we were able to just “be” together, in each other’s space, experiencing an evening walk together, marveling at all the things that I would have forced him to miss in my haste to get him somewhere safe prior to his new backpack.
Alright dear readers, I’ve taken a deep breath, let me have it.
I find it fascinating that while we’re more connected and more accessible to each other now than ever before we tend to develop weaker bonds with one another, and we tend to lose touch with people far more often now even though we have the internet, the phone, mail etc. verses when we could only ride a horse or walk to see each other.
It’s almost like it’s the ease with which we can form all sorts of new relationships that prohibits them from growing into lifelong committed relationships that can span anything.
It reminds me of the story of the butterfly’s struggle:
A little girl found a caterpillar one sunny afternoon in her backyard, and it tickled her when she picked it up. She brought it in her house and showed her mother. The mother allowed her to keep it, but the little girl had to take good care of it. So she brought it leaves every day, and made a little house out of cardboard for it.
One day the little girl woke up and she couldn’t find the caterpillar, all she could find was a long white thing that was hanging from the top of her little caterpillar’s house. Her mother explained it was a chrysalis and that the caterpillar had made it, and was now inside of it, just waiting for the right time to come out as a beautiful butterfly.
The little girl waited and waited, and when it had felt like she had been waiting forever she noticed that the butterfly was starting to come out. It looked painful and hard to her so she started to carefully open the chrysalis for the butterfly. She had just started when her mother found her and told her to stop. She did and asked why, that’s when her mother explained that it was the struggle that helped the butterfly to form such beautiful wings, as it emerged and that if she continued to help the butterfly’s wings wouldn’t form right and she’d never be able to fly.
The little girl thought that was very sad and stopped helping immediately and sat watching for hours as the butterfly slowly emerged from its chrysalis. The beautiful butterfly then flew around the room testing out its wings and the girl watched in wonder. The butterfly flew out the window after fluttering on her hand, tickling her with its wings just as it used to with its fuzzy coat. While the little girl was sad at first, she wasn’t for long, for every afternoon the butterfly would come back and flutter around the little girl while she played in the backyard.
Human nature makes me think of the girl and the butterfly, it appears as if we all want better, quicker, faster, new and improved, instead of substance, instead of real worth.
It makes me wonder, is easier really better? Or are our “shortcuts to happiness” really making us walk the wrong path towards loneliness instead of the path we want of true committed relationships (with family, friend or lover).
Contributing Author at Parents Space
Behind starburst eyes 