Going to Kindergarten and (Apparently) Hell

When David was in Kindergarten, we lived in Zion, Illinois.  Zion was originally founded as a Christian haven.  In 2000 (the year before David started Kindergarten), the median household income was $48,000 and the median home value was $115,000.  Approximately 30% of the residents were African-American and 30% Hispanic.  Chris and I knew this when we moved there and it really didn’t matter to us.  I thought that the diversity in the community was a positive.

Beulah Park Elementary School reflected the population of Zion, when David started Kindergarten.  When David started school, he was not sure of his religious beliefs.  He identified with being Jewish and I would say, was more Jewish than Christian, but he was still working on figuring things out.  Chris and I didn’t have a problem with this, as we were raising him to think for himself and to seek out his own beliefs.

Now, my memory is a bit foggy on some of the finer points, but sometime after Winter Break, David came home with some interesting stories.  Prior to break his class learned about different cultures and religions celebrating winter holidays.  David must have contributed some of his knowledge about Chanukah (we celebrate both Christmas and Chanukah in our house) because his classmates learned that he wasn’t Christian.  After Winter Break, David informed me that he was being told by several of his classmates that he was going to Hell because he didn’t believe in Jesus.  I was surprised that this didn’t appear to upset David.  However, when I asked him about it, he told me that he didn’t believe in Hell and Jews didn’t believe in Hell either, so how could he be going there.

While David was unperturbed, I, on the other hand, was very concerned.  Why were 5 and 6-year-olds telling their classmates they were going to Hell because of their religious beliefs?  Why were they doing this on the playground?  And so I went to visit the Principal.

It was my first visit to the Principal’s office as a parent (and unfortunately, would be the first of many, many trips to the Principal’s office – the most recent being just before Fall Break this year).  Going to the Principal’s office as a parent can be an anxiety producing event.  I didn’t want to be THAT MOM, but I did want to make sure that David was not intimidated at school.  It is tough to find the balance.  Thankfully, the Principal was understanding and sympathetic.  She did handle the situation and the majority of the time there was no one telling David that he was going to Hell.

David learned about prejudice and discrimination at the tender age of 5; much earlier than I would have wanted him to learn about such things.  In hindsight though, it seems that his learning to deal with such difficult topics at a young age gave him insight and maturity he may not have gained otherwise.  As a parent, it was painful for me to see David’s exclusion because of his religious beliefs.  But, to my surprise, he took it in stride and didn’t seem to care that much.

Around this time, David  formed a belief that he holds to this day:  there are educated religious people who will respect your right to have your own beliefs, even if they don’t agree and there are uneducated religious people who preach fire and brimstone.  The uneducated religious people do not think for themselves and only “believe” what they have been taught.  They don’t understand the background and history of their  own religion and cannot explain it.  Those who are educated understand the history behind their religion and how their religion progressed to the point it is at currently.  They have come to the personal beliefs they hold, not because they were necessarily raised that way (although many of them were), but because they have asked the questions and found the answers that has led them to their religious beliefs.  They respect that each person takes their own journey and comes to their beliefs in their own individual way.  They may not agree, but they respect the process of self-discovery.

During David’s kindergarten year, he met uneducated religious people (some of his classmates) and a very educated articulate religious man.  Both experiences, in my opinion, shaped David’s opinions and interests in religion.  It’s been quite a journey and I’m grateful that I’ve been able to go along with David as he explores his beliefs.

I’ll be writing more about David’s journey according to my perspective.

Raising Children without Religion

As I wrote yesterday, I believe that raising children without religion is more difficult than raising children with religion.  When you embark on the journey of raising children who are freethinkers, you head into the unknown.  There are no set answers about beliefs.  It is scary, very scary.

Raising Critical Thinkers

Over the last couple of weeks, I’ve been trying to remember my first conversation with David and/or Michael about religion. And I can’t. I do remember that Michael went to a friend’s house (he was quite little – maybe 4) just before Christmas and he saw a nativity scene. I remember him asking about it in the car on the way home. Of course, both boys were in the car with me, and while I don’t remember the details of the conversation, I would imagine it went something like this…

Distributing Responsibility (Or How to Let Your Kids Grow-up)

I’ve been thinking a lot about parenting this summer.  Perhaps it is because David is hitting another milestone:  going to high school.  Whatever the reason, it has been on my mind.

Co-Sleeping: A Recent Occurence

It seems that this week I’ve been writing a lot about Parenting.  Much more than usual.   Normally, things at our house run fairly smoothy; that is, if you don’t look at the dirty dishes and laundry piling up.

Attachment Parenting – The REAL Story

When I posted a few days ago about Attachment Parenting and Where I Went Wrong, I was joking.  Well, not completely.  But most of it was lamenting about my boys’ missing me (and Chris) and needing to come home early from a trip to NC to visit my parents.  What I didn’t think about was that there are new parents who are struggling with the parenting issues I dealt with after the boys were born.

David’s IEP (Individual Education Plan)

For those of you who don’t know David, he has been “classified” by the school system as Twice Exceptional.  Twice Exceptional means that his has a Learning Disability and is Gifted/Talented.

When David was in Kindergarten, he couldn’t hold his pencil properly.  He couldn’t cut, ride a bike or tie his shoes.  He got services from an OT (Occupational Therapist) and continued to have difficulties.  Many of his difficulties involved writing.  But the Zion School District (Illinois) did not believe that he had a problem.  Especially because his reading ability was off the charts and his vocabulary was amazing for a kid his age.  They didn’t believe that he needed help for his “difficulties.”

CLIMB and Kids Alive: Support Groups for Kids who have a Parent with Cancer – Part 2

The Social Workers at CLIMB gave me information on Kids Alive.  Kids Alive is held at Porter Adventist Hospital in Denver.  The program is in its 16th year.  The amazing thing is that there are a number of “kids” who went through the program who are now volunteers.  Kids Alive meets once a month on Saturday mornings from October to June.  Every March they take the kids on an overnight trip to Snow Mountain Ranch.  And like CLIMB, Kids Alive is a free program for kids who have a parent with cancer.

David and Michael started attending Kids Alive in January or February, 2010.  Michael went on the overnight trip that March (David was supposed to go to a science competition, but ended up getting sick and not being able to do either).  Michael had a great time at Snow Mountain, although at first he wasn’t going to go because David wasn’t going.  Eventually, one of the volunteers (who was a former “kid”) talked him into it.

Kids Alive is structured, having the theme of a Hero’s Journey.  Parents drop off the kids and pick them up after the 2 hour session.   There is no parent group, but I think that is ok.  Sometimes the parents talk informally and sometimes we all do our own things.  Much of the time I sit and sift through and organize paperwork that I have put off.

Last year the boys fought with me, tooth and nail, about going.  They didn’t want to go.  They didn’t want to spend their Saturday morning there.  And I think, to a certain extent, didn’t want to deal with Chris’ cancer.  Since Chris had been stable for a while, it was easy for all of us to pretend that all was right and good in the world.  But Chris’ cancer hasn’t gone away.  And, while we can pretend sometimes, that it isn’t there, at some point, reality is going to come crashing down on us.

So, every month I battled with the boys about going.   I tried to bribe them with breakfast or lunch (didn’t work).  And I dreaded the fights, but I made them go.  Every time.  They were threatened with “consequences” if they didn’t get ready and into the car (usually losing electronics for a significant amount of time).  And we were all miserable.

However, the boys were usually glad that they had gone.  That is, until the next month when the fighting began again.

Kids Alive doesn’t meet over the summer.  They have found that people have too much going on and don’t make it to the meetings.  So July to September there is no Kids Alive.  October is when Kids Alive begins for the year.

A few days before Kids Alive I told the boys that it started on Saturday.  They weren’t together when I told them.  David said, “Ok.” and that was it.  No arguing.  Michael also said, “Ok.” and didn’t complain.  Friday night I reminded them that we needed to get up early on Saturday and that we would be leaving at 8:15 for Kids Alive.  Both boys said, “Ok.” and that was it.  I asked them to set their alarms and held my breath, waiting for the fighting to begin.

The boys went to bed a bit later than on a school night, but not as late as they usually do on the weekends.  They both got up in the morning and showered without complaint.  They got themselves ready to go, got something to eat, and got into the car.  I waited for them to start complaining.  They didn’t.  We decided that since David needed new shoes, and Payless was having a sale, we would go after Kids Alive and then grab something to eat.

We got to Porter Adventist Hospital a bit early (it was snowing that morning) and the boys went off to make their name tags.  They hadn’t said one word about not going.  I was perplexed.

When we were walking to the car afterwards, I asked the boys how it was.  They told me fine and that they had a “confidentiality agreement” which meant that they couldn’t talk about the things that other kids spoke about.  This is a regular part of Kids Alive.  Since it is run by professionals, I’m not concerned.  I also know that if one of the boys was having serious issues, they would let me know.  Then we got into the car.  Again, I waited for them to start complaining.

They were messing with the music in the car and both seemed to be in good moods.  Before I pulled out of the parking lot, I had to know.  So I asked.  Were they tired of fighting with me about Kids Alive?  Did they change their minds about it?  What was the deal?

David told me that he was starting to understand why I felt it was important.  He said that beyond it being a bit too religious for him (it isn’t a religious group, but obviously many kids who are dealing with a parent who has cancer, turn to religion), it wasn’t bad.

Michael said only that he was starting to like it.  I think that Michael, being almost 11, has finally made it into the older kid group and he is happy with that.

I guess sometimes Mom does know best.

The Family Bed, Breastfeeding and Attachment Parenting – Part 3

When I started this thread, I didn’t think that I needed to explain what I was writing about.  Michael was reading over my shoulder (as he often does when I am composing a post) and asked, “What’s the family bed?”

I asked him if he remembered sleeping in bed with me and Chris when he was little, and he said he did.  I explained that the family bed was all of us sleeping together.  It is really a simple concept and one that didn’t need to be explained until the last 100 years or so.  Our ancestors (and currently in some other countries), slept with their babies.  They all slept in the same bed/area.  It wasn’t until people started collecting wealth and building large homes that children were expected to sleep alone.

When in the womb, an infant is warm and cozy.  He hears his mother’s heartbeat and her voice.  This is his world.  When he is born, he may be thrust into a world that separates him from his mother.  He is expected to sooth himself, to sleep alone and to take nourishment from a plastic bottle.  A lucky infant is the one whose mother is prepared to breastfeed and keep him close.  When he is near his mother, he can still hear her heartbeat and it is comforting to him.  He can smell her milk.  He feels warm and safe.  His mother is his entire world.  By keeping him close, his mother meets his needs.  Sometimes even before he can cry.  He sleeps close to her and forms a strong attachment to her.

As he grows older, he begins to form attachments to others.  But his mother is still his world.  Knowing that she is there, trusting that she will keep him safe, he is able to explore the world around him.  When he is little, there are few adults in his world beyond his mom and dad.  His time away from mom and dad is minimal until he is ready to be without them.  This is attachment parenting:  the bond formed first between mother and child and then between father and child.  The mother, when attachment parenting, learns to trust her instincts when it comes to her child and do what feels natural.  It is an amazing experience:  to know that your baby needs you and that for that moment no one else can fill the need.

At this point in my parenting journey, I have not been nursing longer than I’ve nursed.  My boys happily go off to do their own things, knowing that I will be available to them when they want or need me.  They have learned to take risks because they are accepted for who they are and loved unconditionally.  As a parent, I trust my instincts about what I believe they need, but I also discuss it with them because they are usually able to tell me.  They know what they need and how their needs can be met.

They are confident  and well-adjusted (most of the time) and if it wasn’t for their dad’s cancer, they would be happy.  Surprisingly, they very rarely get in trouble.  Chris’ and my expectations are clear and they understand them.  They know the consequences (they learned that word before they were 2) for not meeting expectations.  Whenever possible, we impose “natural consequences.”  If the boys are goofing around and talking in bed past their bedtime, they will be tired in the morning.  They are still expected to go to school and do their chores.  It didn’t take them too long to figure out that they didn’t feel well when they were tired and cranky.

I don’t believe in permissive parenting.  My expectations (and Chris’) are extremely high, but they are reasonable.  When we impose consequences, they are well thought out and not overly harsh.  I learned very early in my parenting that I needed to follow through when I said something, so I shouldn’t say anything that I wasn’t prepared to follow through with.

I am not my children’s friend.  I am their mother.  However, they know that they can come to me about anything.  They know that I won’t judge them and that I love them, no matter what.  This is essential as my kids enter their teenaged years.  David already knows that if he drinks alcohol, I won’t be pleased, but that I will come and get him wherever he is, if ever he needs me to.  He understands that if he drinks and drives the consequences will be significant, but he can call me and I will get him.  He won’t get off if he calls me, he will still have consequences, but he will be safe and alive.  He knows that he can talk with me about any subject and I will tell him what I think.  He must make his own decisions but he can trust that I will listen to his thoughts and his respect his right to make those decisions.

Parenting by heart, it is challenging and requires forethought and reflection.  But, the results are amazing and even with the occasional lack of sleep, I wouldn’t parent any other way.

The Family Bed, Breastfeeding and Attachment Parenting – Part 2

When Michael began walking, he started following David around.  This was great because I was able to do some things without touching Michael, or should I say without Michael touching me.  Michael was quite attached to David and I welcomed the small breaks it gave me.  Sometimes Michael would even sleep with his brother for short periods of time.

Most nights David was sleeping in his bed and Michael was sleeping with us.  Michael continued to nurse until he was almost 3 and while he was nursing, I didn’t try to get him to sleep in his own bed.  When he finally weaned, Chris and I tried to get him to sleep with David (who was 5).  Most of the time it worked well, but sometimes on school nights (David was in kindergarten) Michael was difficult and ended up in our bed.

At some point, David  S decided that he wanted his own bed and moved to the top bunk.  Michael stayed on the bottom bunk and was sleeping in his bed most nights.  He was weaned, but he was still rubbing my arm.  This was something that he started when I would ask him to wait to nurse (after he was a year old)  he would rub my arm from my elbow to wrist over and over again.  I don’t know when he started it and I don’t remember when he stopped.  Although, I do remember that it became annoying and I was touched-out.

The reason that I am writing this is that, even at 13 and almost 11 the boys still find their way into our bed.  Michael sleeps with us more frequently, but occasionally David ends up in our bed.  That is what happened the other night.  Chris had to work overnight – they were moving computers or something and needed to do it after business hours.  David goes to bed earlier than Michael because he needs to get up almost 2 hours before Michael does.  Since they share a room, Michael usually reads in our bed from the time that David goes to bed until his bedtime.  But the other night, I was exhausted.  I got into bed while Michael was still reading in my room.  From there, it seemed natural that he would scoot over and snuggle.  And of course, we fell asleep.  Kirby was sleeping up against my back and Sugar was sleeping at the bottom of the bed.  Michael isn’t usually fun to sleep with; he ends up lying cross-ways on the bed, he kicks, flings arms out, steals covers and other terrible things while he is sleeping.

At some point I realized that David had come to get into bed with us.  I remember telling him to get his own pillows (he’s fighting a cold and with Chris’ cancer . . .).  So, all three of us were in my bed.  And the dogs.  None of us slept well.  The dogs kept waiting for Chris (he got home at 4:30 am and slept on the couch).  Michael got up at 2:30 am to go to the bathroom and decided to go to his own bed.  David was tossing and turning and me, well, I was being bombarded by flying Michael parts and hearing David cough and the dogs bark.  It wasn’t a good night.

The thing is that I strongly feel that the boys should be comfortable coming to our bed.  Yes, it is a little weird to have David in bed with me – he is taller than me – but I am glad that he still feels that he can come to me to be comforted.  Michael, well, when Michael has a night terror (which hasn’t happened in a LONG time), Chris and I found that the best thing was to have him go to the bathroom and then get in bed with me.  It calms him the quickest so that all of us can go back to sleep.

When Michael first started having night terrors, he was 5 and Chris lived in Colorado while the boys and I were still in Illinois.  I was working part-time and our house was on the market and I was single parenting.  Sleep was important.  Michael would be distressed and frantic and the thing that soothed him the quickest was to put him in bed with me.  It was necessary as he was having night terrors 3-4 times a week.  And I just couldn’t manage.  So, we did what worked.

While writing this blog, I’ve been thinking why this is so important to me:  having the boys be able to come to my bed.  I remember being anxious as a child.  Very anxious.  And I didn’t think that I could share my anxiety and fears with my parents.  I didn’t think that they would understand.  Maybe they would have, but somehow I knew at a young age, that I shouldn’t talk about my repetitive thoughts.  You know the story about Bloody Mary coming through the mirror if you said her name 3 times in a row?  Well, I would get stuck on it and say it over and over and over in my mind.  It scared me.  It scared me so much that I was often afraid of opening my eyes and I was afraid of going to sleep.

My parents didn’t know.  (I guess they do now since they usually read my blog.)  It really was something that I felt would be considered “silly” and that I would be thought of as a “baby” because of it.  But it dominated my thoughts at bedtime for years.  As an adult, I know that this was a battle I was having, not with Bloody Mary (I knew she didn’t exist), but with OCD (Obsessive Compulsive Disorder).  Going to my parents’ bed wouldn’t have solved the issue, but it would have made me feel less alone.

I don’t want the boys to ever feel alone.  As a result, I sometimes get tapped on the shoulder in the middle of the night and then move over so someone can climb into bed with me.  I imagine that there are worse things in the world than losing a bit of sleep to make sure that the boys feel loved and safe.

I’ll talk about Attachment Parenting in Part 3.