Everywhere we look nowadays, children are being diagnosed and labeled with disorders based on their behavior, with acronyms being placed near their names. “Johnny has ADD, that’s why he can’t sit still.” “Sherry has RAD and that’s why she can’t attach to us.” “Vinny is on the (autism) spectrum.” But how does it help to label our children?
I kept pulling and yanking against him like those darned Chinese Handcuffs, for nearly half an hour. And my fingers were clearly still stuck inside. The child wasn’t dressed, lunches weren’t packed, and we were at a stalemate.
Finally, I had a moment of clarity. I let go of the outcome in that second- let go of all that needed to be done. I stopped struggling. We were probably going to be late anyway. I shifted from what I needed to something that was important and fun for him, connecting with him rather than my own agenda.
There is no right or wrong choice in schools (homeschool, private school, public, etc.); but after doing all of them, I realized for me and my kids, life experience was more than great planned vacations that didn’t happen often enough, or being creative with your curriculum. For me, school was about community and the opportunities random people provide. I may have failed at homeschooling, but I realized that every family is different and we all have individual needs.
One hundred years ago, I wrote a poem entitled “I Am.” You know the one, where you start listing all the things that make up you in a list to create personal poetry. It’s a great exercise to get people out of their preconceived poetry notions, but it is also a great exercise in perspective.
The baby was only 3 days old when I received the phone call. It was from a dad and I always know I’m working with a great family when dad is on the phone for the new mama who needs breastfeeding support. And it probably also means that they’re in distress.
The new baby girl, Sofi, was chomping at the breast every time she’d nurse. I knew this meant that mom was in pain and that the baby wasn’t getting much milk (or colostrum, which is the first milk), either. I started asking questions about the baby’s birth.
One of my sweetest memories is of something I heard the day my daughter was born. It was my husband.
Here in the Northern Hemisphere, the days are getting longer, trees are green, flowers are blooming