sylvanas-thoughts

Cleaning the freezer at 6am

Tue, 13 Dec 2011 21:30:16 +0100

I cleaned out my freezer this morning at 6am. Most of you are probably saying, so what? But those who know me know that i only do this on one of two occasions - either about 15 hours before I give birth, or when I'm extremely angry and feel like hitting something. And I'm definitely not giving birth today. Even Tristan, my 3-year-old who loves helping me with all household tasks - washing dishes, sorting the laundry, cooking, sweeping, assembling furniture - knows to stay away when I'm cleaning the freezer.

At around 5:30am my baby woke up for milk again, for the fifth time in 7 hours. And the thoughts bulldozing through my head didn't let me get back to sleep afterwards so I got up and attacked the freezer. There's something very satisfying about hitting the ice with my wooden mallet with all my might until it is dislodged and falls off with a crash... one negative thought per thump... the freezing ice on my skin somewhat cooling my anger....

It's not Ethan's waking up I was angry at. Actually I cherish his middle-of-the-night wakings for milk because they offer me an opportunity to reconnect with him. I love hugging him quietly in the middle of the night, the rest of his siblings sound asleep, smelling his breath, caressing his silky soft hair, his tiny fingers wrapped around mine as he snuggles in my armpit rooting for milk. Having experienced this with my other 3 kids, I know how quickly it passes and how fast they grow and how much I will miss it when voluntarily they move away from me and into their own beds. No, waking up at night for my kids doesn't make me feel angry. It makes me feel frustrated sometimes, and tired, particularly if neither me nor them is getting enough rest because of some illness and the resulting lack of sleep. But not angry.

My anger was towards sperm donors - glorified babysitters who call themselves "dads" so they can gloat about their child on Facebook and show him off as if he was a new tattoo. Using him as their latest bait and pick-up line so they look like "cool dads" with women who, as an unfortunate result of our biological makeup, are turned on by the image of a man nurturing his child, even if only in a photo. My anger was towards a generalising "politically correct" legal system that grants such part-time and mostly absent "dads" the same rights and privileges as the mums who sacrifice and give up so much from the very first moment they are aware of the existence of their child. I was upset at a legal system made up of outsiders, of men and women I do not know and who do not know my child, yet who I have to trust with the wellbeing of my child because it is assumed they know better than me what is best for my child.

Why is it automatically assumed that a child needs the sperm donor in his life simply because said donor gets emotional and weepy and self-righteous when talking about the son whose nappy he never changed once... who never had to give up wine, or blue cheese, or hair colour, or mayonnaise, or their favourite exercise, or countless other things because of pregnancy or breastfeeding... who, in fact, did not have to make ONE CHANGE in his life as a result of the presence of his accidental offspring? They never have to endure "morning" sickness, breathlessness, heartburn, cramps, indigestion, water retention, incontinence, sore nipples, leaky breasts, carrying excess weight, altered body shape, loss of hair, stretch marks, restricted diets, insomnia... to mention a few. They are never woken up for milk by a hungry baby every 2 hours for at least six weeks, and every 30 minutes during growth spurts. Neither do they have to comfort a crying, feverish child night after sleepless night and still have to wake up in the morning to prepare the other kids for school and get some work done to pay the bills. Nor do they have to negotiate time off work or sacrifice their vacation time to attend the needs of a sick child or be present at the various school activities. And more often than not it's the mums who need to find ways to drop off and pick up the kids to and from school, including on the various days when school ends at 12 because of staff meetings. And it's the mums - especially the single ones - who have to find a way to keep going, often straight after birth, and somehow combine with and motherhood because a single mum has no other choice.

I don't want to be misunderstood - I know men who deserve the title of "dad", my own father being one of them. Men who are fully involved in raising their kids, men who support their wives while pregnant, make sacrifices together. Men who do not run off in fear - or in post-natal depression - abandoning their wives and babies at the first obstacle. Men whose role in the lives of their children is not to simply be the "fun" parent but also the "ugly" one who provides discipline and boundaries. Men who adapt their work schedule so that they can be truly present in the life of their young child, and whose time with their kids involves more than babysitting them at the swings for a couple of hours while sipping a coffee with friends. Men who take their time with their kids seriously, getting to know them emotionally, listening to their fears and challenges and worries. I know and admire such men, and they know who they are because they shine like rare gems and are true role-models for our future generations of men, and I tell them so. But I grow so tired of hearing from women who had to change so much in their lives with the arrival of their child, while their partners stayed stuck somewhere at age 14. Women who are living as single women even though they are married and physically share a house with their husband. And of course single mums who continuously feel the need to prove themselves and their parenting skills lest the sperm donor accuses them of neglect and tries to take custody of their children.

Discrimination against women is still very rampant in this area. We may be able to vote, and demand equal pay for equal work, but god forbid a single mum has an active sex life, for example, because she is labelled a slut and deemed a bad influence on her kids. Whereas a man can change partners like socks and even introduce his kids to each one of them, confusing them and upsetting them unnecessarily, and nobody bats an eyelid. A single mum wouldn't dare miss a school activity or send a child to school with an unironed shirt, because she'll be talked about for weeks outside the school gates. Where is the sperm donor's participation in the stress of the day-to-day routines with kids? We - and the legal system - need to call a spade a spade. My daughter said it well when, with her 7-year-old wisdom and innocence, she said to a man "Don't think it's going to be easy to be a dad". Fathers are not made by accidentally procreating. The child's emotional well-being should be more important than political correctness. It should not be assumed that anybody knows what is best for a child than that child's nurturing mother, who has been actively present in his or her life through the good, the bad, and the ugly since the day she peed on the stick that turned blue.

No law can - or should - change that connection and its relevance. It's the law that needs to change to acknowledge this basic biological fact. The human race has always gotten into trouble when we go against nature. And laws or societal expectations that attempt to diminish the importance of the mother-child bond will only lead to a future of disoriented and disconnected adults, and ensuing chaos.

Confessions of a Bad Mother

Mon, 28 Nov 2011 15:59:49 +0100

Sometimes I am SO TIRED of motherhood. I look at the clock when it’s time for my kids to return from school and I want to lock myself up in a room where they won’t find me. And there are days when I’m so glad when someone offers to take them for a couple of hours and hope I get sick in the meantime so I won’t have to pick them up so soon. Then I turn on the TV and see some ad showing a chirpy, smiling mother in full make-up and perfect hair at suppertime, her two boys joyfully stuffing themselves with canned green beans and corn. And there I am, hair all messy held up in one of my daughter’s Dora clips, looking like a panda with my smudged left-over make-up from the morning, at the edge of sanity as I try to stop Eva hitting Kieran with a DVD box, Kieran turning Eva into a goat with his Harry Potter magic wand (which is why she is hitting him), and Tristan thinking the toilet bowl is the perfect hiding place for all his favourite toys.

Oh and this is happening while I’m trying to convince them to eat salmon and spinach, instead of chicken nuggets or cold pasta “with only cheese” yet again, and while on the phone with my mother who has a problem with me never returning her calls because I’m too busy.

When they are finally all asleep against their will, I get some time for myself and a glass of wine later I ask myself… where are the normal mothers?? Take a look around at the images of mothers we see: they are either portrayed as a picture of perfection – serene, happily married to equally perfect husbands, never raising their voices, balancing bouncy smiling compliant kids on their high heels and fashionable business suits – or else they are pitiful mental cases that abuse their kids and deserve to be taken out of society. And I wonder, is there no midway between the fairy godmother and the wicked witch? Who is feeding us this myth of perfection and why are we – normally intelligent, thinking, creative women – falling for it?

Even when talking to other women we find it so difficult to admit that, in spite of our good intentions, sometimes we fail. We paint a lovely picture and even if we let it slip that we smacked those 5-year-old lips after they screamed “I hate you!” at us – we do it with a smile, downplaying the real impact of the comment which shot through our heart and fired all our buttons. We laugh it off, wanting/needing to appear in control in front of the other mums because after all we’re sure they never did anything like this and how would we be judged if we are not-so-perfect?!?

When we buy into the myth of perfection and do not share our real stories, all we are doing is perpetuating the myth and helping other mums build their own impossible-to-achieve standards. We are passing on to our children the idea that mistakes are shameful instead of an opportunity to learn and grow. My mother would argue, “we wash our dirty laundry at home” but by keeping that same analogy, how would I know how to take off that red wine stain all over my brand new sofa if I don’t tell anyone I spilled it in the first place?

So here it is – at the risk of having a social worker at my door dragging my much-loved kids into custody – here is my confession: there are days when I am a baaad mother. A wicked witch. A fire-breathing dragon. A time bomb ready to explode if one more cheerios lands on the floor… and it’snot even 8am yet. There are days when I look at the mess in my house, the garbage full of nappies, the toilet full of toys, the trucks and balls and oh-not-another-princess strewn in the corridor like war mines conspiring to trip me over my face, and I wonder… why did I not use 5 condoms on top of each other?!? Evenings when I’m looking for a pair of heels in my shoe closet and wonder when exactly was my closet sieged by tiny stinky sneakers and fluffy glittery slippers and High School Musical shoes and bags and where are my heels anyway and maybe I just shouldn’t go out at all because by now my mood is ruined.

There are times when I’m on the beach looking at perfect bodies of calm non-parents laughing (probably at me) and sipping wine while I’m negotiating actions-and-consequences in an attempt to stop a sand-flinging fight while juggling my 16-month-old who is obsessed with my breasts with a passion previously exhibited by adult men. And I scream at the top of my voice (no wonder they’re laughing at me…) for everyone to be quiet or we’re leaving!!

I’m not saying I’m proud of my feelings and actions but hey, it’s the reality. At least these situations give me plenty of topics to discuss with my kids when I’m feeling more sane, when we talk about how I lost it and how I could have done it differently. Not that I will necessarily do it differently the next two or three or even five times it happens, but at least it will hopefully teach them that it’s OK to screw up sometimes, and that we can always talk about it afterwards and feel close again.

Now I just hope that you won’t all leave me hanging here alone, and that some of you will respond with your own stories of imperfection so that when it’s all over, we can paint an honest picture of parenthood today!

(the original post of this blog, together with comments, appeared here.)

What is true inclusion?

Sun, 20 Nov 2011 22:55:10 +0100

With all the talk going around regarding the changes to our educational system, I got to thinking about what my ideal school would look like. One of the most important things I would like to see would be a truly inclusive educational system, one that accepts, respects, and even encourages diversity in all its forms. One that honestly reflects the student and parent population of our schools.

Let's face it - Malta has changed a lot since the time we were kids. And the changes aren't about to stop. If anything, our kids are going to be living in a very different world than the one we grew up in, and I seriously wonder whether our schools are preparing them for that future.

For example, how many kids in our schools come from single-parent or separated/divorced families? So why are our school books still portraying the traditional mum-dad-2-kids-and-a-dog sort of family? I am sure that there are plenty of resources out there that display the whole spectrum of family structures and if not, there are lots of creative teachers who I am sure could write such books. Speaking of different family structures, what about "Father's Day" and "Mother's Day" activities? I have a very sensitive 6-year-old boy who last Father's Day was heartbroken and cried for a whole 4 hours because he couldn't give his dad the father's day card and present they made in class! In my son's case this sorrow was brought about by the fact that me and his dad are separated, but what about those children whose father has died, or who don't know their father, or whose father is abusive, or who have both father and stepfather, or, since we are speaking of inclusion and of the future, their "father" is also a woman?

OK so probably that last phrase raised a few eyebrows and the very fact that it did shows how much more work needs to be done in this country in this specific area. Sexuality is another area where I don't feel we do enough in the area of education. And I don't mean when it comes to talking about sex and how babies are made and how to put on a condom correctly. To be honest I have no idea what is taught in that aspect since my kids are still in primary school - which makes me wonder also though... how early is too early? Today's kids are growing up fast and what we don't teach them, they learn through other channels like TV and of course their friends. A friend of mine, who has a 9-year-old daughter, was shocked speechless when her daughter asked her "Ma what is a blowjob?". Again my 6-year-old got me thinking about this when he asked me whether he could marry his male friend instead of a woman when he grows up. The conversation went something like this:

"Ma, I think I would like to marry Jake (not his real name) when I grow up. I love him so much and that would mean I could spend all my time with him. But my only problem is, would I still be able to have kids?"
"Yes, but they would be either yours or Jake's"
"Why?"
"Because you also need a woman to have a baby"
"So if two girls marry each other, they would be able to have all the babies they want?"
"Well they would also need a man, because you need a man and a woman to make a baby"

So just because they don't always ask, it doesn't mean that kids don't have questions... and some very complicated ones obviously run through their fast-growing minds... and they WILL get answers. Do our homes, classrooms, society display acceptance? More than some token acceptance, are such issues tackled matter-of-factly even in our conversations, media, resources, policies? I don't think that "acceptance" is enough. I would strive for simply "being". not judging, questioning, encouraging, embracing... just it is how it is. The same way we accept without question the traditional mum-dad-2-kids-and-a-dog sort of family.

Same thing goes for religion. It is NOT enough to simply accept that there are children with different religions in the same schools and classrooms. These differences need to be respected and incorporated into our school curricula. How come the Catholics are the only ones who get religion classes? It's the height of discrimination - different children getting a different education based solely on their or rather, their parents') religion. I chose not to baptize my children because I want them to choose their spirituality freely rather than having one particular religion imposed upon them by me. I did not send them to a church school but to a state school. The state consists of more than just Catholics (and how many of them are actually real Catholics anyway?!?), so why do our state schools not reflect the reality? Why do my kids have to be subjected ONLY to the Catholic religion. The school authorities proudly and happily informed me that I can take my kids out of religion classes like the "other" kids ("other" meaning Moslems I suppose??) and that they would be able to do something else during that time. I don't know how the parents of the "other" kids feel about this, but I was extremely offended! Why should my kids be taken out of their class like outcasts, to do something different? Religion should not be the responsibility of the school, but of the family and the family's church. The school's concern should be spirituality, which should be all-encompassing and focus on universal values instead of a particular religion. This was the way we did it when I was a teacher at an international school. Catholic education is taught at the muzew, and the same applies for other religions. Again from Kieran: "Ma, why do they have to hang Jesus on the cross in the classroom? It is scary! Why can't they put a picture of him having fun with children instead?" I pride myself in always finding an answer to Kieran's complex questions, but this one, I had no answer for.

And what about different cultures? Eva once came home from school speaking "chinese". You know what I mean... saying things like "ching-chong-paw" etc etc. I asked her why she was talking that way, and she said that her teacher starts speaking "chinese" to get their attention when they are not listening. I wonder what a chinese child would think of that, if s/he was in the classroom.

Kieran: "Ma, are black people evil?"
Me: "?!?!?!?!?"
Kieran: "Well the teacher said black is the colour of evil, so does that mean that black people are evil?"

What the... are we serious?!?!? Once again, how do the school books reflect this reality? The children in the books are always white. Dolls are always white (although I know a particularly avant-garde childcarer who specifically buys dark-skinned dolls for the centre she manages).

This management of resources and curricula spreads through to other areas. For example, we talk with pride about how "inclusive" our schools are, catering for different abilities. As if all you need to make a school inclusive is a few LSAs. What about sign language, for starters? I am not sure on Malta's statistics, but in the United States, sign language is the fourth commonest language. In fact, thirty-three states have adopted legislation recognizing ASL as a language that should be taught in schools - to all students, not just the Deaf ones. Talk about real inclusion! Sign language is not only used by the Deaf community - it is also a valuable tool for other conditions too, such as autism. One of the greatest challenges of autism is frustration, and I imagine this would be felt even more strongly in school-age. Sign language can help reduce this frustration, so how much more inclusive would schools be if ALL kids, hearing, Deaf, autistic, and so on could communicate with each other?

So I suggest that we remove all the religion lessons and replace them with ethics and values, multicultural studies, and sign language. This would prepare children for a society that consists of MUCH more than white catholic men happily married to white catholic women having children of uniform abilities. And that is just for starters...