As I watched the record breaking skydive yesterday, it wasn't Felix Baumgartner's leap of faith I was captivated by. It was his mother.
A mother of a risk taker myself, I was utterly entranced by this brave woman, watching her son jump from space to earth. How did she reach that point? How did she manage to even watch? Most of the time, when my small risk taker is somewhere I'd rather he wasn't, I try to turn my back so I can't see. Although usually I find myself peering at him out of the corner of my eye, to make sure he is safe. I felt huge admiration for this mother who allowed her son to follow his dreams without standing in his way despite, I'm sure, a huge maternal protective instinct to keep him safe.
My Max, now 8, had the 'best day of his life' in the summer jumping 60ft from cliffs into the sea. He now wants to be a skydiver and beat Baumgartner's record. How does a mother go from allowing small risks to setting them free to take enormous ones? And why should we?
We start small. We start with watching our toddlers climbing onto furniture. We take them to parks with climbing frames. We let them climb trees (although Max goes so high that sometimes his head pokes out of the top - those are the back turning moments). We let them skid on icy puddles. We allow them to take risks within our safe grasp. And we let them grow in confidence. We allow them to make mistakes and, gasp in horror, to let them fall. We teach them to understand the extent of the risks they are taking. We teach them to have confidence in themselves.
If we allow our children to take these small risks, when they are older they will have the confidence to take bigger risks, and I'm not just thinking about skydiving. We want to encourage a generation of creative minds, of politically radical leadership, of adults who will tread paths none have walked before. If we want our chidren to grow up as trailblazers and those who stand up for injustices, we must teach them to take risks. If we see entrepeneurial spirit in our children, we must teach them to take risks. If we want our children to have jobs, families and to work hard, we must teach them to take risks. If those of us who are Christian parents want to see our children growing God's Kingdom, we must teach them to take risks.
Our children are growing up in a generation of placid non-risk takers who take everything put in front of them but don't reach out to grab hold of what life could be. It's up to us to change this. So, even though it can feel almost impossible, we must let our children take those risks and applaud them. There is no face more proud than a parent who has watched their child succeed. Felix Baumgartner's mother has that face this morning. Will it be your face tomorrow?
Showing posts with label mothers. Show all posts
Showing posts with label mothers. Show all posts
Monday, 15 October 2012
Tuesday, 24 April 2012
Invasion of the Hormones
Oh my. I thought two year old tantrums were hard. Imagine the full force of the two year old (and my two year olds were particularly forceful) combined with the bodily strength of a ten year old. And then you might understand my predicament. What makes it even more daunting is that these Hormones are only just beginning their locust-like ravages of my little boy's body. (Ok, so he's not actually 'little' anymore. In fact, he is almost as tall as me. But he is still my little boy.) We may well have another 8 years of this. And it may well become alot worse. Oh.
The Hormones, it seems, have well and truly arrived. Complete with mood swings, door slamming, huffing and sighing, comments about how uncool and embarrassing I am and aggression that has reached a new level. And he's only ten years old!
I do feel for Toby. Every stage he reaches that is new to him, is also new to us. Every boundary that he questions, we also have to question. Every tentative step he takes forward into the world on his own, is taken with my breath being held until his foot has landed safely back on the ground. Every change shocks me, as though the ground underneath is trembling and moving. Why does he cover up with a towel now? I'm his mummy, I changed his nappies! Why does he close his bedroom door and expect me to knock if I want to go in? Why does he suddenly seem to be hungry all the time? Why does he laugh at the scenes in films that I didn't think he understood? Why, suddenly, is a particular t shirt not acceptable to wear? Why does he want time alone, when for the last ten years I have been trying to teach him, unsuccessfuly, that it's ok to be on his own? All these things that I took for granted, are beginning to change.
And so, yet again the ground shifts and with it the boundaries move further. We need to recognise our boy is beginning, only beginning, his long journey from little boy to manhood. Is there any way I can prepare myself for the onslaught of the Hormones? I don't think so. Just as you can't prepare yourself for the sleep deprivation and the utterly exhilarating exhaustion of a newborn baby, I don't think I can prepare myself for the thrilling ride of the teenage years ahead. But they will come. And they will transform my boy into a man. Oh my.
The Hormones, it seems, have well and truly arrived. Complete with mood swings, door slamming, huffing and sighing, comments about how uncool and embarrassing I am and aggression that has reached a new level. And he's only ten years old!
I do feel for Toby. Every stage he reaches that is new to him, is also new to us. Every boundary that he questions, we also have to question. Every tentative step he takes forward into the world on his own, is taken with my breath being held until his foot has landed safely back on the ground. Every change shocks me, as though the ground underneath is trembling and moving. Why does he cover up with a towel now? I'm his mummy, I changed his nappies! Why does he close his bedroom door and expect me to knock if I want to go in? Why does he suddenly seem to be hungry all the time? Why does he laugh at the scenes in films that I didn't think he understood? Why, suddenly, is a particular t shirt not acceptable to wear? Why does he want time alone, when for the last ten years I have been trying to teach him, unsuccessfuly, that it's ok to be on his own? All these things that I took for granted, are beginning to change.
And so, yet again the ground shifts and with it the boundaries move further. We need to recognise our boy is beginning, only beginning, his long journey from little boy to manhood. Is there any way I can prepare myself for the onslaught of the Hormones? I don't think so. Just as you can't prepare yourself for the sleep deprivation and the utterly exhilarating exhaustion of a newborn baby, I don't think I can prepare myself for the thrilling ride of the teenage years ahead. But they will come. And they will transform my boy into a man. Oh my.
Thursday, 5 January 2012
And the Parenting Winners are....
.....The parents whose children become child prodigies? The parents who manage to potty train their 1 year old? The Mother whose baby sleeps through the night at a week old? The parents of children who take their GCSE's at the age of ten? The Father who yells so loudly on the sidelines of the football pitch that his son has no option but to play to his best? The family who buy the most expensive presents for each other? The parents whose children have every screen possible and more? The Mother whose toddler eats every type of food put in front of them?
How ridiculous does this sound? And yet we all do it. We all, at some point in our parenting life, compare ourselves to other parents and join the Parenting Competition. I have some news for you....
THERE IS NO COMPETITION.
It does not matter if your baby eats homemade butternut squash pureed into ice cubes or if she eats food from a jar bought in the supermarket. It does not matter if you breastfeed or bottlefeed (yes, I know this may offend some, but I was often offended by people remarking on my choice of feeding and adding to the guilt a new mother already feels). It does not matter if your baby walks at 10 months or 18 months and it certainly doesn't matter if you manage to miraculously potty train your son at 18 months or 3 1/2 years old. It doesn't matter if someone elses 8 year old can ride and bike and yours can't. It doesn't matter if your 4 year old son can't hold a pen properly, but your friend's 5 year old daughter spends all day colouring neatly in the lines. It doesn't matter if your child's classmate has piano lessons, swimming lessons, karate lessons, football club and drama club and your child just enjoys being at home. It doesn't matter if you cannot afford the all singing, all dancing birthday party for your child.
Today, during my blissful child-free trip to the library, I overheard two mothers of pre-school children talking. I was horrified to hear one of them make this careless remark: "I'm not being funny, but my children are alot more academic than yours". This is the culture of competition in which we bring up our children.
However, the reality is that there is no competition because all of our children are different. They are unique. Why do we beat ourselves up, reading silly books with ridiculous 'milestones' that tell us what our children should be doing, when our children have not read the book? They are their own unique person, created in love and made to be the perfect child they were meant to be. Don't hear what I am NOT saying. I love competition and know that it motivates children - especially boys - to work harder and push themselves further. The competition between parents though, is totally wrong and gives the impression that we are never pleased with our children's achievements because Billy in their class is always one step ahead.
Come on, let's give ourselves a break and stop comparing our children and our parenting. Let's climb off the unsteady ladder of 'parental achievement' and celebrate our children for who they were made to be. Let's be free to bring up our children in the way that is best for them and for our own families. Let's enjoy our children and give up the Parenting Competition that so damages family life. Anyone else want to join me?
How ridiculous does this sound? And yet we all do it. We all, at some point in our parenting life, compare ourselves to other parents and join the Parenting Competition. I have some news for you....
THERE IS NO COMPETITION.
It does not matter if your baby eats homemade butternut squash pureed into ice cubes or if she eats food from a jar bought in the supermarket. It does not matter if you breastfeed or bottlefeed (yes, I know this may offend some, but I was often offended by people remarking on my choice of feeding and adding to the guilt a new mother already feels). It does not matter if your baby walks at 10 months or 18 months and it certainly doesn't matter if you manage to miraculously potty train your son at 18 months or 3 1/2 years old. It doesn't matter if someone elses 8 year old can ride and bike and yours can't. It doesn't matter if your 4 year old son can't hold a pen properly, but your friend's 5 year old daughter spends all day colouring neatly in the lines. It doesn't matter if your child's classmate has piano lessons, swimming lessons, karate lessons, football club and drama club and your child just enjoys being at home. It doesn't matter if you cannot afford the all singing, all dancing birthday party for your child.
Today, during my blissful child-free trip to the library, I overheard two mothers of pre-school children talking. I was horrified to hear one of them make this careless remark: "I'm not being funny, but my children are alot more academic than yours". This is the culture of competition in which we bring up our children.
However, the reality is that there is no competition because all of our children are different. They are unique. Why do we beat ourselves up, reading silly books with ridiculous 'milestones' that tell us what our children should be doing, when our children have not read the book? They are their own unique person, created in love and made to be the perfect child they were meant to be. Don't hear what I am NOT saying. I love competition and know that it motivates children - especially boys - to work harder and push themselves further. The competition between parents though, is totally wrong and gives the impression that we are never pleased with our children's achievements because Billy in their class is always one step ahead.
Come on, let's give ourselves a break and stop comparing our children and our parenting. Let's climb off the unsteady ladder of 'parental achievement' and celebrate our children for who they were made to be. Let's be free to bring up our children in the way that is best for them and for our own families. Let's enjoy our children and give up the Parenting Competition that so damages family life. Anyone else want to join me?
Friday, 9 September 2011
The Highs and Lows of Back to School
Every week brings with it highs and lows, here are a few highs and lows from our first week back into routine....
Highs
On Thursday morning, I enjoyed a blissful morning of peace. Of course, there were seven week's worth of jobs to be done, but I was able to complete them without the 'help' of lots of other little hands (and voices). Actually, I did not complete them all. I almost completed them, and then, feeling the satisfaction of actually having done some cleaning I sat down, had a cup of tea and read my book.
Today, as Jonah came out of his second day in the nursery class with yet another stolen vegetable from their veg patch, I had a little giggle to myself. Yesterday he brought home a runner bean, today it was two tomatoes - one green and one red. Does he think they are just there for the taking? Perhaps he thinks they are part of the nursery experience. He does, however, look extremely cute in his little uniform. It almost makes him look respectable.
Over the week I have watched Toby growing in confidence and enjoying meeting new people. I have seen him take all of this on board by himself, without me there to guide him or even protect him. Of course, now he is in Middle School, he really does know everything. If we thought he knew everything before, we were wrong.
Max's first day brought a rare moment of organisation. These moments come so infrequently in his life, that they must be documented and cherished. He even asked me for a 'morning timetable' so that he knew what he needed to do each morning. After his first day back at school, he arrived home, took his shoes off and put them in the cupboard. He then hung up his bookbag (I am amazed he remembered to do that considering he probably only did it once for the whole of last year) on the hook, emptied out his lunchbox and put it next to the sink. I stood, mouth gaping, and foolishly thought he had turned over a new leaf. Today proved me wrong, of course, as he crawled home from school on his hands and knees (he was too tired to walk) and when he eventually made it through the front door, he lay in the middle of the floor for 10 minutes making loud donkey-type noises.
Lows
The tiredness and grump levels have, towards the end of the week, reached a record of new proportions. Having been well behaved in their new classrooms all week, they have to have somewhere to let their true feelings escape. Where better than at home and who better to punch than your brother? I have refereed many fights this week.
Having had the most relaxing (well, perhaps relaxing is not the best word) summer for ten years, the early mornings have come as quite a shock to my system. I could never understand other mums complaining about the early start. I did not realise that children were capable of sleeping later than 6:30am. Whilst Toby was up and dressed at that awful time on his first day at Middle School, the rest of us were somewhat slower to come round.
I have begun the 'Year of the School Run'. With Jonah in the nursery part time, I am now traipsing down to school and back again three times each day. I will soon know where each dog poo has been laid and where every crack in every pavement lies.
And so begins another term.
Highs
On Thursday morning, I enjoyed a blissful morning of peace. Of course, there were seven week's worth of jobs to be done, but I was able to complete them without the 'help' of lots of other little hands (and voices). Actually, I did not complete them all. I almost completed them, and then, feeling the satisfaction of actually having done some cleaning I sat down, had a cup of tea and read my book.
Today, as Jonah came out of his second day in the nursery class with yet another stolen vegetable from their veg patch, I had a little giggle to myself. Yesterday he brought home a runner bean, today it was two tomatoes - one green and one red. Does he think they are just there for the taking? Perhaps he thinks they are part of the nursery experience. He does, however, look extremely cute in his little uniform. It almost makes him look respectable.
Over the week I have watched Toby growing in confidence and enjoying meeting new people. I have seen him take all of this on board by himself, without me there to guide him or even protect him. Of course, now he is in Middle School, he really does know everything. If we thought he knew everything before, we were wrong.
Max's first day brought a rare moment of organisation. These moments come so infrequently in his life, that they must be documented and cherished. He even asked me for a 'morning timetable' so that he knew what he needed to do each morning. After his first day back at school, he arrived home, took his shoes off and put them in the cupboard. He then hung up his bookbag (I am amazed he remembered to do that considering he probably only did it once for the whole of last year) on the hook, emptied out his lunchbox and put it next to the sink. I stood, mouth gaping, and foolishly thought he had turned over a new leaf. Today proved me wrong, of course, as he crawled home from school on his hands and knees (he was too tired to walk) and when he eventually made it through the front door, he lay in the middle of the floor for 10 minutes making loud donkey-type noises.
Lows
The tiredness and grump levels have, towards the end of the week, reached a record of new proportions. Having been well behaved in their new classrooms all week, they have to have somewhere to let their true feelings escape. Where better than at home and who better to punch than your brother? I have refereed many fights this week.
Having had the most relaxing (well, perhaps relaxing is not the best word) summer for ten years, the early mornings have come as quite a shock to my system. I could never understand other mums complaining about the early start. I did not realise that children were capable of sleeping later than 6:30am. Whilst Toby was up and dressed at that awful time on his first day at Middle School, the rest of us were somewhat slower to come round.
I have begun the 'Year of the School Run'. With Jonah in the nursery part time, I am now traipsing down to school and back again three times each day. I will soon know where each dog poo has been laid and where every crack in every pavement lies.
And so begins another term.
Tuesday, 6 September 2011
New Starts
The holidays are over. We have just experienced the first summer holidays without a toddler or baby in tow and, as much as toddlers and babies are cute and everything, it was fantastic. We actually had lie-ins (until 7:45, but when you have spent years getting up between 5 and 6am, that really is a lie-in) and going out is so much easier without all the (un)necessary paraphernalia. I even managed not to yell at the boys (apart from the "lunch is ready" yelling and the "stop weeing up the garden shed" yelling) until week 6. This is most definitely progress.
However, all good things (and tiring things and noisy things) come to an end. Today was my biggest boy's first day at Middle School. He spent his last evening of freedom subjecting us all to nerve-driven verbal diaorrhea and shed quite a few tears at bedtime when his mind was plagued with worries (although this is not to be admitted to now he is at Middle School). He was up and dressed at 6:30am, all ready for his new start! I waved him off this morning with a reassuring smile on my face and threatening tears brimming in my eyes. As I closed the door on him and let the tears fall, I felt again another painful snip of that umbilical chord and took a deep breath, knowing we are about to enter a whole new world with him.
My littlest also begins his school journey this week as he joins the nursery class at our school. What they will make of him, I do not know. I heard a most excellent description of a deadly ant (on Deadly 60 for all those who also watch it!) which summed up my 4 year old perfectly. "He is fearless and has an attitude that is far too big for his size." Nursery staff, you have been warned! Will I feel tearful leaving him at nursery on Thursday? Not in the slightest. In fact, I may even be seen skipping home.
What is my reaction as a mum to all these new beginnings? My reaction is to grieve what has passed, but also to celebrate what is to come. My boys are growing up and taking brave steps towards independence. I am right behind them, watching them totter, and will be there when they fall (which they will - but don't boys love a good injury to show off to their mates?) but I have to let them take these steps themselves.
Next in the plan for independence is to teach my lovely, but eccentric, Max to be more organised ....... This may take some time ......
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