talking of which

If there's one thing I've learned from my kids, it's that just about the time I work myself into a comfortable parenting groove, where I feel like I know what to expect and what to do about it, things change.

I've learned to adapt, over and over, but that doesn't stop me from being somewhat bemused each time a new set of changes comes along, as I am now. This time, it's a big one. My daughter is thirteen. And she wants me to talk to her.

To understand why this is a big deal, I need to lay out some background. My daughter is not a talker. In fact, there was a time when I would have said my daughter had an aversion to words. For years I spoke in sound bites and practiced a whole lot of non-verbal communication skills to accommodate her because even “aversion to words” doesn't really convey the way things were. She could talk and read and write. She had a decent vocabulary for her age at any given age. But spoken words were not her friends and she didn't want too many of them in the air around her. So I adapted and learned to live and communicate with the kid who didn't like words. Now and then I'd be around other kids and it was a little startling – they talked a lot! But it wasn't a big deal.

My kid with the aversion to words wanting to sit on the couch and chit-chat? That's a big deal!

It's been interesting, to say the least. At first, I was flummoxed. And even now – as I write, this has been going on for a few months – I still kind of flounder, trying to figure out what I'm supposed to say when she gets in a conversational mood. She's not a great conversationalist, yet, so she's pretty dependent on me to keep things going. Fortunately, I've been keeping up with some of her interests so we can chat about books and comics we've both read, characters we like, creatures we like to read about and write about, that sort of thing.

I tell her about things I'm looking up on the internet and she comes and looks over my shoulder. This is the most “classical unschooling” sort of thing we do – looking things up together on the internet. Today, I was looking up the phrase “in flagrante delicto” which appeared in a graphic novel we're both reading. I had always thought it meant “buck nekkid” but it wasn't used that way in context – I explained this to Mo, and she giggled, both at “buck nekkid” and the way I was candidly admitting my own ignorance. She loves that – she's pretty sure I'm not the brightest bulb in the box and likes evidence to support her theory.

One of the things I'm learning in this new phase of our unschooling life is that Mo likes it when I get a little salty in my language. The girl who didn't approve of verbal interaction has gotten whatever sex ed she's had so far from books I've strewn (hopefully) and random sites on the internet (cringe) so I think she's glad we can finally exchange words on the subjects of bodies and sex and sexuality. I know I'm glad! I had expected a much more...um, educational kind of sex ed to happen around here. Guess that was something I needed to deschool – and Mo has been happy to help me out in that regard. So I've been working on not censoring my words and thoughts too much. I'm cussing more and outright saying things that I'd previously kept censored. One of the comics we're both reading right now is SAGA, and another is Rat Queens, both decidedly “adult content”. And from time to time we talk about that – not “how did you feel about that scene?” sorts of quizzy stuff, but real girl talk.
She especially likes it when I get silly, so I've been reaching deep into my goofy side and having fun with that. Here are a couple of examples:

We have a stuffed flamingo. His name is Casey:

Me: “Casey's been sitting in the window all day watching the hummingbirds. He says he met a bunch down when we were down in Florida... but I think he's lying about doing vodka shots with them. I'm pretty sure hummingbirds don't drink vodka.”

Mo (playing along): “what do they drink?”

Me: “Rum, for the most part. I'm skeptical because he says they were drinking in the cabana – I don't think that word means what he thinks it means.”

Mo: what does it mean?

Me: you know, I'm not entirely sure, but I know it's not a bar

We proceed to google images of cabanas.

The moon:

Me: “There's half a moon in the sky... I don't know what happened to the other half. I think it fell off. I'll get the umbrella in case of giant raining chunks of moon.”

Mo (giggling): “It's okay, I'm pretty sure it will all burn up in the atmosphere.”

This is little stuff, right? Basic, simple stuff... except that it's totally not at all. It's new and strange and wonderful around here. There are still plenty of long, slow silences and awkward bits, but our friendship is growing and changing and getting... wordier. I hadn't expected that. It's a good thing.

Flight of fancy

There's a story going round - not the only one of it's kind by a long shot – of a child who, in a moment of crisis, does something wonderfully kind, clever, independent, and wholly successful and his mom gloats that despite her fears she will never “clip his wings”. It's the kind of story that parents, like myself, read and think “awwww, that's sweet” and then a bare moment later think “that is So Not my kid.” Not that my kids are never kind, clever, independent, or successful, but this is a picture-perfect moment when the child in question gets all the right answers and everything works out beautifully. Someone told me it was a celebratory success story, but that doesn't ring true to me - it's not a success so much as a lucky break, if it's even true. It reads more like a fantasy than a real event with real children.

This is the article, if you want to read it.http://wholewoman.hubgarden.com/wings-intact-fly-on-little-buddy/

 

Rather than rant about all the things that are wrong with this kind of image of children-as-perfect-examples, I'm going to re-tell the story a couple different ways. The fictional children in these stories don't magically come up with right answers, but they are no less worthy of "flight" than that picture-perfect child. They don't need their wings clipped to look like his, they need to have their own valued just as they are.

 

 

Story 1: Dragon wings.

While in the process of leaping behind the couch, playing dragon, Storm discovers a lost balloon leftover from the Mad Hatter's Tea Party last month.

Shit. I thought I'd gotten them all.

Naturally Rowan is over the moon, though, so I bite my tongue and stay close, wondering if I should ready an emergency back-up snack for when disaster strikes, or if I'm being defeatist. I'm trying to be more upbeat with my guys, but I'm just as temperamental as they are, so it's a challenge.

At first, everything goes well; the guys actually manage to play together for half an hour without Storm exploding or Rowan breaking down and I think: here's a day for the blog, thank goodness! I'm only just starting to wonder if I should try and redirect the energy a little, while Ro still has something like a sense of perspective, when disaster happens. The damn balloon that I should have thrown away weeks ago breaks and Ro, predictably, comes apart at the seams. I'm a complete failure. Again.

Deep breath. Deep breath. No-one's bleeding or choking. I can handle this. I'm the mom right? Surely I can figure this out.

And then Storm, being Storm, roars like a fricking dragon right in Rowan's face and all hope of calm and sanity are lost. Ohhhhhhh, I could just strangle that kid! Why does he have to be such a terror? I scoop up Ro to get him out of the line of fire and he howls in my ear, completely freaked out. As usual.

As usual.... Somebody online said something about that. About all those “as usuals” being chances to become more proactive. Didn't I have a plan for this? What was it? Picking up Ro was part of it... hey did I get something right? It's hard to think with a kid screaming in my ear and the other running in circles, jumping on the furniture, pretending to fly. Jumping... riiiiiiight.

“Hey, Storm!” I call out, scrabbling for a blanket to throw over Ro's head. “Where's that new How To Train Your Dragon punching bag? Wanna blow it up with the floor pump?” The floor pump involves jumping up and down, and then Storm can wrestle the punching bag into submission for awhile, I hope, while I get Ro settled. Amazingly, he goes for the idea, roaring through the house to collect the toy and the pump and then jumping so enthusiastically the darn hose keeps popping out. Later, I'll laugh about that. Right now, I've managed to insert myself into a chair with Ro, blanket over his head, for some serious snuggling. I remember to stick my face under the blanket every chance I get because he likes the eye contact and not to say anything stupid like “we can get another one.” He doesn't want another one, he wants that balloon to be whole again. “Sorry little buddy,” I tell him instead. “I'm so sorry.”

I'm able to wiggle over sideways at one point to hold the pump hose steady while Storm blows up the punching bag – I'm totally counting this as my yoga practice for today – and then close the plug and let him have at it. He hurls himself on the thing like it's a rival dragon and thrashes his way around the living room for awhile, giving me a chance to direct some undivided attention at Ro for nearly a minute at a time. He's still taking forever to calm down, but I notice I didn't manage to amp him up and make things worse, so I'm counting that as a win. I might actually survive the rest of the day!

Once Ro is down to hiccuping and not actually crying I'm able to suggest a snack, glad I finally broke down and bought the one dollar pudding cups so I don't need to spend ten minutes making pudding. Instead, while the kids are eating the pudding (Storm mostly wearing his) I throw together a monkey platter with odds and ends from the fridge and pantry – cereal, cookies, apple rounds, peperoni and olives, and no, I'm not going to worry about the nutritional content – and switch on the tv and we all snuggle down on the floor to watch Dragonriders of Belk for the millionth time this week.

Storm announces that he's the Alpha Dragon and will protect all of us for ever and Rowan suggests that next time we go to the store, we should get some cauliflower and make “sheep” to eat and I wonder how I managed to get such amazing kids. I know I don't have this parenting thing down, yet, but I'm getting there, one tiny success at a time.

Story 2: Mantis and walking stick

“Mommy, the balloon broke!” Samuel shrieks, as though I'm not three feet away, wondering what possessed me to let my boys play with something that inherently doomed to destruction. Richard is gasping like a landed fish and I give him a hard look, remembering some story I read about kids choking on balloon fragments – should I call 911? But he seems okay, just shocked with the sudden end to his play. So far so good, I think to myself.

“It's okay, we have more of them,” I say, and then kick myself. Wrong-o mamma! You know that's not going to fly with Richard. And indeed, he's already tearing up at the suggestion. I shove my laptop under the couch where it won't get stepped on – no more facebooking for me – and get up to see if there's anything I can do to salvage the situation.

“I know!” Samuel carols, “I'll fix it!” He runs to get his “fix-it-kit”.

Richard looks after him hopefully.

Shit. Now what? It's not like you can actually fix a balloon, but it's no good saying so. Richard will lose it and Samuel will argue that he can, he Can, mommy! and won't hear a word of opposition to his Grand Plan.

I circle around Ricky cautiously, reminding myself not to try and hug him. That's a tough one for me, I'm a hugger, but Richard is touch-averse and tends to melt down if he doesn't initiate contact. My mom keeps telling me I need to have him tested, that he's never going to have any friends if he doesn't learn to get over his fears, but he's actually gotten better now that I'm giving him lots of space and time, so I sit down next to him but not touching and together we watch Samuel.

Sam has got the big blue craft box full of his “tools” and is collecting bits of balloon to reconstruct. There aren't nearly enough pieces. He tries taping them together but the tape won't stick, so he tries stapling them. One piece tears in half and he sinks to the floor, defeated. “I can't do it, Mommy!” he wails. My own mother tells me that she's sure Sam is gifted and just needs to be pushed to do things himself, but I'm not so sure. Pushing just seems to make him more resistant.

“Can I help, somehow?” I ask, not sure what I can do, but I've found that if I don't come out and suggest things the kids sometimes have ideas for me.

No longer the center of attention, Ricky gets up and wanders over to the arts-n-crafts pile and manages to get the book of construction paper out of the middle without knocking the rest over; now That's a gift.

“They just won't go together!” Sam moans.

Richard comes and takes a tube of glitter glue out of the fix-it-box.

“I think maybe some pieces are lost,” I offer.

“No!” Sam is, as usual, very sure of himself. “They just won't go together!”

“Why do you think that is?”

I can hear Ricky tearing paper, but it looks like it's just construction paper so I don't worry about that. As long as it's not the power bill, we're good.

“I don't think the balloon wants to be a balloon any more,” Sam announces, eyes overflowing as he speaks.

I don't know what to say to that – where does this kid get these ideas? But he's my huggable child, so I hug him and let him cry into my t-shirt for a little while. Richard seems content to be doing something under the coffee table – I'm not sure what, but he's totally absorbed in his project and that at least gives me the time to deal with Sam.

Finally, I try asking “what do you think the balloon wants to be, now that it's done being a balloon?” not sure it's the right thing to say, but kind of intrigued with Sam's flight of fancy.

“I think it wants to be a kite. A kite for Lego Spongebob and Lego Sandy to fly up out of Bikini Bottom and go visit Sandy's family in Texas.”

And he proceeds to turn the biggest scrap of balloon into a kite... or rather directs me to do it, since he's still feeling defeated by the thing. I suggest we glue it to a bit of paper and then staple some string to the paper for a tail. He offers suggestions and advice but refuses to have anything to do with the actual process: “No, you do it, Mommy.”

I wonder if Richard has fallen asleep under the table, but instead see he's doing something with the glitter glue. I hope he doesn't get any on the carpet, and then check myself; we're going to have to replace this carpet anyway. Which reminds me...

“How's your diaper, Ricky?” I ask from across the room, trying to gauge his reaction without making eye contact... learned that one the hard way. He doesn't reply for so long I figure he's not going to, but then he gets up and goes to the diaper bag and gets a new pull-up and changes right there. I'm flabbergasted – this is a prizewinning day! Sam's happy playing with his Legos and “kite”, Richard is dry, and I have enough breathing space to go get myself a cup of coffee.

It isn't until later that I get to see what Richard got up to; on the underside of the coffee table is a rough picture, made from multicolored scraps of paper edged in silver glitter paint. At first I think it's a sun, but Samuel translates for his brother: it is the balloon, flying away free at last, even though it is in a million pieces. I snap a picture and send it to my husband at work... I won't be telling my mom about this, she wouldn't understand.

separation anxiety

We did recently stop nursing and that is not going well. <<

That's very likely a big part of the issue - the end of nursing can leave a child feeling very vulnerable. But another part is purely that she's 5. It's a delicate age - she's out of the toddler years but not "a big kid" yet, not really. She's starting to have a sense of the wider world around her, but that's scary! It's a big world! So it's really normal for her to want to keep tabs on her safety net, her mom, and to keep mommy close. 

>>Here is the issue: she is so attached to me that she will sometimes cry if she cannot come with me<<

What kind of crying are we talking about? Inconsolable screaming and flailing around? Is she crying so much she's getting sick or wearing herself out? Or does she weep a little and then settle down and get on with her day once you're out of sight? It's an important question because, while naturally you don't want to hurt her feelings, it's also perfectly normal for her to be upset and express that via tears. Life has real limits - real sources of frustration, disappointment, and sadness. And 5yos are often very sensitive to frustration, disappointment and sadness Because they're beginning to get a sense of the wider world. It's not uncommon for 5yos to cry because they want to fly to the moon - not pretend to fly, not go up in a balloon or airplane, but really fly to the moon. And it's impossible. And it's okay to cry about that, to be disappointed at the edges of possibility. 

Be gentle with her feelings, but also recognize that it's okay for her to feel and express them - even when they're not comfortable. One of the things she's getting a chance to learn about is emotions - negative as well as positive. How nice that she can do that with people who are sweet and kind and will try to help her, rather than being sent away someplace where her feelings are inadmissible and a kind of failure.

>> But now at play groups or at the park, etc she will not go and play without me right there.<<

It's also important to recognize that what you've done in the past may not always be workable - kids' needs change! And it's important that your parenting changes along with them. Right now, it may not be feasible for you to get work done while she's playing outside the home. Time to change the way you get work done! It might be better to plan less outings so that you can schedule more work time at home, or rearrange how you and your husband divvy up the available work-hours. 

Any advice on how to encourage her to do things on her own but still respect her feelings?

"Encouraging" her to do things without you is much more likely to make her more anxious about wanting to be close to you. In fact, with the end of nursing, it's better to plan to spend more time with her for awhile, reassuring her as much as possible by your close presence. Again, that might entail less outings - it sounds like you're out of the house a huge amount, with art and dance classes! Cut down to one or two outings a week, including things like running errands and shopping. Your daughter is letting you know that she's feeling vulnerable right now. Help her feel secure by doing a lot of nesting. 

control

Re:I really hoped I would get opinions from 'both sides' of the sugar issue

I have to admit, I find comments like this on a whole-life unschooling list baffling. In terms of finding ways to support the natural learning process in partnership with young children, there isn't a "sugar issue" at all. It’s a control issue - how much control do I "need" to hang onto.

That's a hard one, because we're bombarded with parenting messages about control - Laura, you seem like you're being bombarded from all sides! That's stressful, and the most natural thing in the world, under stress, is to find a way to feel in control. Its a mega-whammy and it can feel like a lose-lose.

Shifting your thinking away from control is the core of deschooling for parents. It is not possible to control what another person learns. Not about math. Not about food. Not about technology. Not about anything in the whole world. Learning is always and forever the purview of the person doing the learning.

Unschooling is about learning. Its amazing to me how often people are startled by that statement. Learning is about the flow of ideas, about connections. If there are differences of perspective, let them be about learning – what helps ideas flow freely? What helps people make connections be to care and joy?

 This is Exactly where sooooooo many parents get hung up - its the same issue with television, with games, with clothes, with money, with sleep with courtesy and responsibility. The “sides” are always the same: that parents "have to" retain a certain amount of control over the situation rather than parents Adapting to the specific needs of each individual family member to better walk at that person’s side in partnership and so support the flow of natural learning. It’s a lot of work to adapt in that way... at first. Once you get the hang of adapting it’s no more work than any other kind of parenting. Once you get the hang of it, it’s less stressful, too. Unfortunately, the transition can be too rough for a loooooot of people. I don't want to down-play that. Not every family can adapt to whole-life unschooling. It takes a lot of deschooling for parents and that can be overwhelming when children are young.

No one has to unschool. That's not a dismissive statement, it’s a gift. No one ever ever ever has to unschool. It is a choice – an ongoing choice to support natural learning as a partner rather than trying to manage it for someone else.

avoiding conflict over food

This has been sitting in the "edit me" bin for awhile - I've lost some of the original context, but it's a good summary of some of the typical food-conflict questions:

A parent  wrote:

I don't eat many sugary (refined) foods at all. I mainly snack on fruit and yogurts, eat fairly healthy dinners with meat and vegetables.

It can be really frustrating and confusing to have a child with different dietary needs than yours. Its pretty amazing how different those needs can be – and how much they change over time. If its clear that your child’s nutritional needs aren't similar to yours, look for better ways to meet his. In your other post you mentioned needing to make three different “meals” or words to that effect. There’s nothing Inherently wrong with that, its more that we've been raised with a social expectation that the cook chooses the food. It will help to step away from that idea and look to support the people in your family. Once you've stepped away from the expectation of “A Meal” its easier to plan how you’re going to budget your time so that you’re not spending more than you’d like in the kitchen. Combine meal prep with making snacks for the next day, for instance.

I was beginning to get really pissed off that just before my son and I were about to sit down to a dinner I'd spent ages cooking that my husband would pop open a bag of Monster munch

It can help to get away from making big meals and do something more mixed – do you know what a “monkey platter” is? Kind of like eating buffet-style, you provide a bunch of options and people pick and choose. It also helps to set out food before people are ravenous!Nothing sets people up to chow down on cheap snacks like having to wait while someone cooks! So get ahead of that game. If its taking you longer to cook than people want to wait, set out some snacks – crisps and veggies and biscuits and nuts right away. If no-one is hungry for the “meal” then you have food for tomorrow – hooray! You’re another step ahead! With practice, you won’t set yourself up for the big emotional drama of “they won’t eat my cooking” – bleh, who needs that never-ending baggage? It takes time to shift to another way of preparing food so its convenient for you And for your family, but when you can do that you’ll find people are more likely to eat foods that are more nutritionally dense. Here’s a link to a page on monkey platters to give you ideas:

http://sandradodd.com/eating/monkeyplatter

I frequently offer to make him more filling foods but he often turns it down. He basically seems to have a fear of new foods and has issues about eating in front of people.

Offer variations on a theme rather than new things. Don't ask "should I make?" just add new things to the buffet - slowly so that he has a chance to get comfortable. Don’t say anything, don’t call any special attention, and don’t fuss if you end up throwing away a lot of trial foods for awhile. If he likes crisps see if he’s interested in dips by having some on hand – maybe get one of those serving plates that’s divided into little sections and put out a few different dips to try. Mixed platters make a good way to offer food to more than one person at a time, too – you can put out foods everyone likes, plus new things. Introduce new foods slowly and don’t push (and experiment with making your own! yes, even crisps!).

We managed like that for 2.5 yrs no problem.

Ah, yes... you've hit a developmental shift that often throws parents for a loop in big ways.

Younger toddlers are really very accommodating where food is concerned. But some time around 3 or 4 kids often enter a very very conservative stage in terms of what they eat. They gravitate toward foods that are sweet-starchy-fat for the most part. It's so very common and it's when a lot of parents move from being sanguine about food to flipping out and becoming exactly the parents they swore not to be. But you don't have to get caught in the same old parenting trap, you can choose to see the time as developmentally normal and natural. It does pass if you don't get bogged down in panic (perfectly understandable panic! but not helpful).

With younger kids, the strategy of “only good food in the house” works well up to a point. Kids are wired to have a narrow focus during the early toddler years, and have relatively adventurous palates, besides. But at 3ish their palates narrow down  - sometimes to only white or brightly colored foods - and by 4 they often have Definite Opinions about what they want you to buy. It can really push your buttons if You have very definite opinions of what children “should” eat to be healthy. Its reassuring to know that kids given a lot of freedom to say no and yes during this time are still healthy. It can help to keep your focus on health itself – look at your child, is he sparkly and energetic? Lots of curiosity? Skin and hair look good? Focus on your healthy child and rejoice. He won’t stay little forever.

Mo spent one summer living on milk, crackers and cookies – Period! It was shocking. I took lots of deep breaths, bought chewable vitamins so I wouldn't freak out, and made lots of cookies. She was robustly healthy the whole time, and continues to be healthy. Although she moved out of that stage after only a few months, she's still a very conservative eater, so much so that periodically we've had lists on the fridge of all the things she's known to eat so that George and I don't start to panic. We can look and say "oh, she eats eight different things, plus milk and juice... not so bad." Sometimes it helps to have a strategy for "talking yourself down" like that.

I totally agree it shouldn't be OK for my husband to eat them and not my son. I think they quite simply shouldn't be there so often for him to have the option all day every day.

How big of a bitch do you want to be? That sounds harsh, but it may help to clarify. Are you willing to make big divots in your relationship with your husband? To essentially turn into his parents, controlling what he eats? That won’t help your relationship, or your husband, or even your son. A home in which people are controlling and resentful about food doesn't encourage good anything, it’s no better than your own childhood experience, I promise you.

How miserably unhealthy is your husband and his family? Are they bloated with malnutrition? Lackluster, dull people with no sparkle whatsoever? If so, its well worth asking why you want to stay in those relationships. But if not, if they’re reasonably healthy by normal standards, then step back from your ideas about what people should and should not eat. Have more healthy options in the house, make nutritionally dense foods as attractive and convenient as processed foods, provide more options regularly, and get out of the way.

maternal needs

Years ago I attended a teacher training workshop where the fellow leading it had a really interesting piece of advice. He said it was valuable to know all the ignoble reasons you wanted to teach. It's easy to point to the noble reasons, after all, reasons to do with helping and uplifting people, but the other reasons, the less lovely reasons are also important because they're tied up with your own needs.

That's an idea which stuck with me, and I brought it into parenting - why did I want to be a mom? Not the pretty reasons about loving someone else but the reasons I wasn't really comfortable with. Reasons having to do with me, my ego, my desire to be powerful and in control, and my fantasies about how cool I would be, how much my kid would love me because I'm just so awesome. Not exactly pretty stuff! And it has been true that those less-than-noble reasons are bound up in my needs - and as such, they're guideposts for meeting my needs; my personal needs and my maternal needs.

It's not popular to talk about maternal needs. I think sometimes there's a fear that admitting to those will diminish us, make us something less-than. I remember how shocking it was to first read advice on an unschooling list to smell my child's head as a way to relax. It seemed weird.

There's a lot of advice "out there" about getting your grown-up woman needs met away from your kids. Sometimes that can be a good thing, but meeting your needs doesn't have to be separate... and that's where knowing the dark side of why you want to be a mom (and a home/unschooling mom besides!) can be valuable. You may find you have ways to meet some of your own needs, your personal needs, right there at home already. You're popular. You're valued - so much so your kids want you to do things for them all day long. Your kids think you're pretty cool - so cool they want to show you everything that's important to them. Those kinds of requests can feel overwhelming, so it can help to re-frame them in terms of meeting your own needs, too. It's okay to be the coolest, most valuable, most popular person in your own home. It's a good thing, even.

Force for Ultimate Good

I've been reading too many comic books.

I brought up the idea of principles - or core values or whatever I called them, Force for Ulimate Good, if you prefer - in a post recently and someone suggested that wasn't a very useful idea, that someone's principles were actually her problem.

To me, that's backwards; principles are never the problem, they're exactly what's good about our human nature because they arise out of the good in our human nature - whether we define them in words or relate to them as feelings of warmth or light or lovingkindness.

Principles aren't the same as the superego - they're not the same as rules or laws or "supposed tos" but I think that's one of the places people get stuck and either "follow"/"apply" their principles like a formula or resist and rebel against what they think are principles. Some moms get stuck with ideas like "lovingkindness" as a kind of rule in their head - a good mommy is loving and kind - and then hurt themselves spiritually, mentally, even physically, trying to follow or apply that rule to their life. It doesn't work as a rule! Applying and following principles or values doesn't work well at all - it gets you stuck in one hole or another. And that's where the Force for Ulitmate Good analogy is actually useful, and more than just a silly phrase I made up after reading too many comic books with my kid. Because if you think about Applying a Force - even a force for ultimate good - it's a lot easier to see the problem.

What makes principle or values or a Force for Ultimate Good work is when it's something that rises up inside of you and motivates you in a positive way. That voice or light or feeling rising up from within - that's a person's principles at work. But it can be difficult, if you're used to applying principles (or if you're stressed!), to tell that feeling from the kind of overwhelm or frustration which says "lock the kid in the bathroom so you can eat." That's when having thought about principles can be helpful, because you can use them as a benchmark for reasonable analysis.

Joy or happiness is often held up as one of the personal principles which will support unschooling. It's not something you can apply. It is something you can look around and say "what's creating more joy in my family?" Something what creates more joy doesn't look much like some ideal of unschooling - and that's okay. Because at it's core, unschooling is about learning and the principles which support learning. Human beings can't not learn - we learn in sorrow and despair and impossible suffering - so in that sense, unschooling is about learning our own core principles so that our kids can learn Their own core principles. We can't give them a Force for Ultimate Good, but we can create an environment in which they can express their own.

That probably all sounds a bit woo if you're juggling laundry and dishes and kids who want your time and attention ;) but it can really help to pause just long enough to let the good parts of your human nature - whatever you want to call them - rise up in the presence of your children.