[pst! ⏳ sensitive] A little wild fox, the universal laws of free play

Remember 10 years ago when I used to write about my parenting experience and was willing to start facilitating free play groups for early childhood? Well, I’ve done it. 100%. And I’ve been loving it all the way long. It’s been fun, revealing, inspiring and messy. Above all, it’s been healing. And wild.

Slowly I started taking notes and writing down my thoughts on free play here and there in uncountable paper sheets and random notepads spread all over the place. Then 2020 came and the whole flow collected its power, shaping itself into a book: A Little Wild Fox, the Universal Laws of Free Play.

And I’m eager to share with you, my loyal English readers, a special gift to celebrate. I’m offering a massive discount on regular price, only until Sunday 13 at only $0.99

I WANT IT NOW ON KINDLE

Grab your gift right now and let me know responding to this email to access a few extra bonuses including a free play guided visualization to reconnect your own play intelligence into daily life.

What is this book about?

In a sequence of postcards as simple as poetic, A little wild fox explores, almost from the activation of personal memory, why early childhood is a crucial stage that deserves deep attention and care. María Raiti portrays in its pages some of the wonders that happen in a free play encounter, from the moment the space is swept and cleaned before opening the door to time when the families leave and the air remains filled with a deep and vital calm.

Using the metaphor of the different foxes of the world, its lines guide us to that early age in which the human baby, thanks to its playfulness, lays solid foundations for the future unfolding of its potential.

The author collects anecdotes from everyday experience through which she details the multiple biological principles of free play and reveals its universal laws. She shows us how to create ideal habitats in which free play can thrive, how to identify its main predators and how to sustain an ethical perspective to prevent its extinction.

It offers an accessible and enjoyable reading experience for families while providing cutting-edge information for educators, therapists and anyone interested in fostering full human development from the very beginning of life.

OR GRAB IT FROM MY FAV EBOOK PLATFORM

Be my crying man. Why women can change the world by giving the men they love and care for a safe space to cry

My husband and I are going through covid right now which makes us a lot more difficult to hold the normally already challenging equilibrium between caring for and dealing with our three teens. Yesterday evening my husband got really upset and argued with one of them (16).

Later I went to my kid’s room to check out how he was doing. I didn’t want him to end the day feeling miserable and alone.

“I know this all sucks and it must be difficult for you to have both your parents feeling so cranky and being so demanding on you and your brothers. I’m sorry you had an argument with dad.”, I said.

He looked at me, overflowed eyes, and almost desperate said: “Mom that’s right on the spot and thank you for caring but please get out right now, don’t see me cry. Get out! Get out!”

It shocked me. We’ve raised them being so open about emotions, so eager to validate them, so non judgemental about crying and still there he was, my adored young man, feeling endangered and encrypted in his need to shed some very well earned tears.

We are experiencing a very rare collective transformation. Many say we’re giving birth to an integral consciousness. It’s evolutionary, it’s universal and it follows the bonding pattern of love, integrating and transcending parts into a wider whole. To manage this we need a very specific skill set in all our lines of development. Up to here, K. Wilber guided me. From here onwards…

In my understanding women are in a key position right now. Why is it everybody seems to be saying, “the change we need to see in the world is upon women’s shoulders”? Even the Dalai Lama says that the world will be saved by women.

I think this is because we women, at least western women but probably it applies globally too, have been raised in cultures that carefully trained us through family settings and educational systems to be caring, collaborative, forgiving and loving and, at the same time, we were highly discouraged to take roles or attitudes regarding leading positions since early childhood.

While little boys were similarly intensely trained to be individualistic, control masters, competitive, fast and tough (please note I don’t say men are this and women that way or the other. I’m saying we were trained that way conscious or unconsciously, there’s lots of scientific evidence here: girl is praised and rewarded for being caring, boy for outstanding his peers. A strong willed girl is identified as bossy and the boy as holding leadership skills. Such strong stereotypes on both sides).

Now it turns out we’re birthing a new consciousness because survival depends upon it and this integral consciousness requires above all the skill to cope with collective uncertainty. For this we have to connect with each other in unknown ways in order to be able to reach massive creativity and resilience levels capable of turning the increasingly perplexing major challenges into fertile fields for a bright future. This requires cooperation, ambiguity tolerance and team work.

Guess who’s standing better on her two feet to surf the gigantic wave? You’re right. Women.

It’s on our side. Which doesn’t mean that we’re better or anything in the like. It just means we were handed (and neuro-crafted) with the essential tools to adequately respond to the actual state of affairs. We were trained to be vulnerable, we were told we cry, we were shown in how many ways we’re the soft gender. Whether we accredited or fought against the mandate, it was there. That’s why our men count on us now. They need us to open dialogues around “how the hell you stay physiologically regulated when you are crying”. Gosh if there were a University teaching this I could lecture on the subject for hours. I hold a master in crying.

We’ve practiced a lot as girls. Many of us still do. I mean if I don’t cry in a full lunar month I start worrying. That’s how we learned to be able to cry and feel safe at the same time. We know how to stay connected inwards and with our surroundings not only while crying but by it.

Boys were not given the chance. They had to push their precious natural gift of vulnerability deep deep down out of their own reach. Now is the time for men to take their deepest breath, dive till the ground bottom and recover their tears trapped in a seashell. They’ll discover they’ve turned into pearls. And we women will know it because we’ll be there as their midwives. It’s on our shoulders but not in the heavy sense of bearing the weight. It’s offering ourselves just to listen and connect instead of fixing, a paused hand to caress his heavy head, a calm chest for his unsettled heart.

Come men of our world, come no matter your age, let’s cry together.
And then laugh together.
And then be silent all on our own.
And don’t worry.
Claim your tearful heritage of vulnerability. ‘Cause you still will be allowed to enjoy the competition, but knowing your belonging and worthiness are not cast by the results. Come, cry, experience the difference between game and free play maybe for the first time. And enjoy both; it’s integrating and transcending, remember.
Above all, come. Let your cascading river be with us. Come and understand. Get it first hand. Your tears are safe on this side of your eyes. Crying does not define who you are. You won’t lose your sense of self ever again.
You belong to us and we need you whole.
You are worth and lovable, no matter what.
You may ask me, “ok, I cry, then what?”
Cause you and I know this is not the end of the line, of course it’s not. But this might be the drop that fills the Holy Grail, the first step guiding you right to the entrance where your Self abides.
For now, I’ll wait and be sad.
‘Cause I couldn’t listen to my child’s cry, I couldn’t hold, my hand fell empty, my shoulder light. My child wouldn’t… But I trust him, he’ll find a path. May my writing be an open portal for my young man to be safe. Be safe my baby and please oh please and please come and cry.

Returning misbehavior: welcome back, Martin. Misbehavior Files Case 1

Misbehavior files series. Case 1.

Hypothesis: parental over control may inhibit a young child´s hability to accept firm calm limits and learn new social skills. When the over control is turned into trust children may gain a sense of self-control.

Martin, 2 years and 7 months is a sensitive, creative, intelligent and very communicative child. After a few months coming to the play group he got irascible. Even when his emotions were validated and he was offered a respectful and firm limit, he was very upset most of the play time and he tended to insult verbally, to hit and pull from the hair. In the last month his father, Gabriel, decided to come himself (instead of the mother) to be with him during the play group and he constantly looked at his child as if his eyes were an effective way to have Martin´s behavior “under control”.

Martin has been able to “behave” ever since. But eventually his inner impulsive urges would manifest. Being very conscious he was “doing the wrong thing”, he would immediately turn round and look for his father´s eyes with a worried, tense face.

I felt quite uncomfortable about this. I wondered…

Was his father´s presence  a positive support for Martin? Doing so, would his father help him know that he loves him, that he will accompany him while growing, showing him the correct path to go? Would Martin “internalize” his father and find him to be his inner guide while growing up?

Or was he overexposed and misunderstood, considered as rude and bad-mannered and admonished for what he said and did, when what he actually needed was a basic trust on who he is and what he is struggling with?

And in the end, who was I to judge? Should I try to help? Or should I just accept, honor and respect?…

I talked to the father two weeks ago. I told him what I observed about Martin. I suggested him to trust his child and let go, avoiding to set unnecessary pressure on him.

Last week the father took a sit with the other parents and chit chatted with them while Martin played. With his father out of sight, he quickly picked up his lost time: he pulled a friend´s hair; he pushed, hit and grabbed toys from other children. He was being himself and continued his social skills development from where he had left it.

Misbehavior was back. But there was a difference. In the room his father had really changed his message: he was supporting and trusting him. Now, when firm and calm limits are set Martin is able to accept them and move forward into play. True Martin is back and I cherish that.

The balad of maternal dependency. Just in case I tell you again how to overcome the 4 most maddening challenges of parenting.

This post was originally published during the national poetry month and I suspect it might have been buried by the avalanche of poems that were published at that time. Since I am quite fond of this post I would not like it to end like that. So just in case you missed it, here it is!

Illustration: Patricia Fitti

“My baby boy won’t eat.

My baby girl doesn’t speak.

My baby boy won’t listen.

My baby girl doesn’t sleep.

And I , oh I , I cook for him so many things.

And I , oh I , I speak to her so many words.

And I , oh I , I explain to him so many times.

And I, alas, I’m lost in an infinite and infernal exhaustion deprived of sleep“.

(sing this playing a little guitar , using a trembling voice, in the sweet and soulful style of Violeta Parra. Repeat as many times as you like or continue reading, there may be alternatives).

I wanted to write this for a long time. As I told you, I do not like confrontation, but today I am not being myself: I got up at 4 am , I showered , I meditated the best I could – I’m not good at it – then I had breakfast , I promoted my free play seminar and reactivated our family business twitter account wondering how is that they suspended me if I opened it yesterday… evidently I can make things wrong from the very beginning.

While all this is going on, my family is still asleep (it’s not even 6 AM).

So I have free time and no one to care for. I do not like that, it makes me nervous.

Since I became a mother most of my attention is directed towards my children. When I got married I focused a lot on my husband. Since I completed college I’ve been attentive to social welfare. And when I was a teenager, ah, I was focused on pairing my thin, rebel and busty friends who excelled me on every aspect getting boyfriends (I never managed)…

Before that, ah… before that I was focused on myself. On my dolls game, on putting up a classroom in my bedroom where I taught naughty and imaginary children, on my rollers and the long balcony of my childhood home hanging above the forest and the lake, on horses, on the morning when I opened the curtains and the whole world was white, white, and only an immense silence covered the ground with snow.

Such an immense silence, so beautiful and deep as meditation. A real one.

When I was a little girl I focused on my selfsame axis. I was myself, ample and self-complacent. Nothing lacked me. Well, I exaggerate. I often lacked a milk tooth and I was so shy that I refused to smile in public because I was acutely aware of its absence (for that reason I lost a casting my mother wanted me to perform, blessed be my destiny). But other than that, I lacked nothing.

The boy, the girl mentioned in the ballad don’t need anything either. They are perfect as they are, a complete, sufficient and full Self.

But we moms have forgotten our own axis, our focus, we depend on whom we can. No one is better than our own child to fulfill our need. And so, depending on them, we teach them to depend.

Oh, is not easy for me to say this…

I breathe …

I infuse myself with courage …

I strive to return to my center, to my true self…

I continue.

Children do not do anything “against us”.

They do not eat because they have a good reason not to. They do not speak (yet), would not listen (never), do not sleep (not even in dreams!), because we have been doing all those things for them. We have not given them enough space, time and respect to learn to do it for themselves.

We control the food we serve on his plate, the amount to be eaten and what will go to his mouths in every bite. Because we do it all for him.

We control the words she says, how many are they, and run to check the correspondence with the number of words she should be saying at by her age (by 18 months they must speak 15 words, really??? ) .

We control his time, we bounce into his motor skills explorations, into his watchful eye , into his hands and games. Without even a warning we interrupt him, lift him without previous notice. We decide how, what, why and when he plays.

Then children have a tantrum… they rebel maybe? And yes, they would not listen. Because they haven’t learned to depend, not yet, not entirely. They still have so much, much focus on their own self. What we tell them not to do, they do it, again and again . And if they observe that this procedure creates in us a show of anger and rebuke, even if they suffer they won’t doubt in pressing one more time the red button of our vulnerability.

“Aha… How interesting was mom’s reaction when I did this … let me see … I’ll do it one more time and will observe if she does it again”. They say all of this in their own language, without using words, driven by the immense desire to understand human bonds through us, their moms. Their deep interest in decoding and comprehending human relationships is their priority and they go for it.

In this state of things the day passes by and we’re all tired. He, she, us. It is 7 PM, we have to complete a lot of household chores and we are all exhausted.

There is nothing worse than trying to fall asleep when we are exhausted. You have to get to sleep before that. Once depleted, a body that had no opportunity to get rest on time pulls out energy from vital reserves and injects a large dose of adrenaline to keep going (do not take it literal, it is a metaphor, although this may be what really happens from a chemical point of view). That’s what happens when we are sleepy at a party: suddenly we reawaken and we feel could go on and on, so we do it. The next day we pay the price for that extra demand on our body, we all know it. Imagine how it goes for you if you do that on a daily basis. Well, maybe you don’t need to imagine anything. Maybe it’s just what you get. But without the party part, only with the get-energy-from-where-there-is-none part, not getting any sleep at all and be already exhausted from dawn.

Feeling frustrated out of so much accumulated fatigue we take everything personal, we lose our temper with our kid and we cry along with him. We don’t know better.

Until one day we realize we cannot put up with it anymore and we get to read articles like this one and others that are surely better. We read and read and wonder when will the author finally offer us the keys to overcome the 4 most maddening challenges of motherhood.

But we do not get the relieving answers we are looking for and even worse: we are made responsible for our fate.

Ok, ok, don’t despair. Just because you read all the way down here I will sing it for you:

There’s no child who does not want to eat, if eating is just eating and only that. If eating is a free act and only as much as he needs to feel satisfied.

If my mom is happy with my satisfaction, oh gee, how nicely do I eat, how good am I at eating being so young!

There’s no child who does not speak enough, if speaking means communication and connection, and only that. If speaking is through the eyes, gestures, cries and smiles and when it is genuine. Then the girl realizes that she is being perfectly understood.

If my mom is happy with my satisfaction, oh gee, how well do I express myself, how good am I at expressing myself being so young!

There’s no child who rebels against limits, if they offer a safe boundary, a form of love that speaks to the heart and only that. Then accepting a limit means feeling a maternal embrace, firm and calm.

If my mom is happy with my satisfaction, oh gee, how nicely do I respond, how good am I at accepting limits being so young!

No little girl wants to sleep. No baby boy wants to go to bed. Because sleep is a change of state, a transition and only that. But that’s just what the boy feels as a challenge, just that puts the girl on an alert.

If my mom accepts my efforts to learn how to navigate the changes, oh gee, and from the first moment in the day I can eat , express and accept by myself being respected, oh gee, I think it’s time for my mom to stop putting me to sleep, oh gee, to stop bouncing me, driving the car, moving the stroller, walking with me in her arms, rocking me in the cradle, putting me to the breast as if it were a sleeping pill, oh gee, it’s time for her to trust that I can also learn to sleep by myself , oh gee , in my own bed, oh gee, in my own bed, oh geeeeeeee!

(sing this using maracas, tambourines and gymnastics ribbons with pure art. If you get Raffi to sing along with you the chorus, even better).

Sometimes it takes us more than a baby to learn this.

But at some point appears a light at the end of the road , we wonder if we are dead but no, we are more alive than ever before. And if you are left wanting more details, oh gee, leave your comment bellow, because right now I have no more time. It’s 6:58 a.m, oh gee, and one after another three little lion cubs appear into the scene, three little cubs oh gee, and they call me, they call me: Mamaaaa!

 

The balad of maternal dependency. How to overcome the 4 most maddening challenges of parenting. (day 5)

Illustration: Patricia Fitti

“My baby boy won’t eat.

My baby girl doesn’t speak.

My baby boy won’t listen.

My baby girl doesn’t sleep.

And I , oh I , I cook for him so many things.

And I , oh I , I speak to her so many words.

And I , oh I , I explain to him so many times.

And I, alas, I’m lost in an infinite and infernal exhaustion deprived of sleep“.

(sing this playing a little guitar , using a trembling voice, in the sweet and soulful style of Violeta Parra. Repeat as many times as you like or continue reading, there may be alternatives).

I wanted to write this for a long time. As I told you, I do not like confrontation, but today I am not being myself: I got up at 4 am , I showered , I meditated the best I could – I’m not good at it – then I had breakfast , I promoted my free play seminar and reactivated our family business twitter account wondering how is that they suspended me if I opened it yesterday… evidently I can make things wrong from the very beginning.

While all this is going on, my family is still asleep (it’s not even 6 AM).

So I have free time and no one to care for. I do not like that, it makes me nervous.

Since I became a mother most of my attention is directed towards my children. When I got married I focused a lot on my husband. Since I completed college I’ve been attentive to social welfare. And when I was a teenager, ah, I was focused on pairing my thin, rebel and busty friends who excelled me on every aspect getting boyfriends (I never managed)…

Before that, ah… before that I was focused on myself. On my dolls game, on putting up a classroom in my bedroom where I taught naughty and imaginary children, on my rollers and the long balcony of my childhood home hanging above the forest and the lake, on horses, on the morning when I opened the curtains and the whole world was white, white, and only an immense silence covered the ground with snow.

Such an immense silence, so beautiful and deep as meditation. A real one.

When I was a little girl I focused on my selfsame axis. I was myself, ample and self-complacent. Nothing lacked me. Well, I exaggerate. I often lacked a milk tooth and I was so shy that I refused to smile in public because I was acutely aware of its absence (for that reason I lost a casting my mother wanted me to perform, blessed be my destiny). But other than that, I lacked nothing.

The boy, the girl mentioned in the ballad don’t need anything either. They are perfect as they are, a complete, sufficient and full Self.

But we moms have forgotten our own axis, our focus, we depend on whom we can. No one is better than our own child to fulfill our need. And so, depending on them, we teach them to depend.

Oh, is not easy for me to say this…

I breathe …

I infuse myself with courage …

I strive to return to my center, to my true self…

I continue.

Children do not do anything “against us”.

They do not eat because they have a good reason not to. They do not speak (yet), would not listen (never), do not sleep (not even in dreams!), because we have been doing all those things for them. We have not given them enough space, time and respect to learn to do it for themselves.

We control the food we serve on his plate, the amount to be eaten and what will go to his mouths in every bite. Because we do it all for him.

We control the words she says, how many are they, and run to check the correspondence with the number of words she should be saying at by her age (by 18 months they must speak 15 words, really??? ) .

We control his time, we bounce into his motor skills explorations, into his watchful eye , into his hands and games. Without even a warning we interrupt him, lift him without previous notice. We decide how, what, why and when he plays.

Then children have a tantrum… they rebel maybe? And yes, they would not listen. Because they haven’t learned to depend, not yet, not entirely. They still have so much, much focus on their own self. What we tell them not to do, they do it, again and again . And if they observe that this procedure creates in us a show of anger and rebuke, even if they suffer they won’t doubt in pressing one more time the red button of our vulnerability.

“Aha… How interesting was mom’s reaction when I did this … let me see … I’ll do it one more time and will observe if she does it again”. They say all of this in their own language, without using words, driven by the immense desire to understand human bonds through us, their moms. Their deep interest in decoding and comprehending human relationships is their priority and they go for it.

In this state of things the day passes by and we’re all tired. He, she, us. It is 7 PM, we have to complete a lot of household chores and we are all exhausted.

There is nothing worse than trying to fall asleep when we are exhausted. You have to get to sleep before that. Once depleted, a body that had no opportunity to get rest on time pulls out energy from vital reserves and injects a large dose of adrenaline to keep going (do not take it literal, it is a metaphor, although this may be what really happens from a chemical point of view). That’s what happens when we are sleepy at a party: suddenly we reawaken and we feel could go on and on, so we do it. The next day we pay the price for that extra demand on our body, we all know it. Imagine how it goes for you if you do that on a daily basis. Well, maybe you don’t need to imagine anything. Maybe it’s just what you get. But without the party part, only with the get-energy-from-where-there-is-none part, not getting any sleep at all and be already exhausted from dawn.

Feeling frustrated out of so much accumulated fatigue we take everything personal, we lose our temper with our kid and we cry along with him. We don’t know better.

Until one day we realize we cannot put up with it anymore and we get to read articles like this one and others that are surely better. We read and read and wonder when will the author finally offer us the keys to overcome the 4 most maddening challenges of motherhood.

But we do not get the relieving answers we are looking for and even worse: we are made responsible for our fate.

Ok, ok, don’t despair. Just because you read all the way down here I will sing it for you:

There’s no child who does not want to eat, if eating is just eating and only that. If eating is a free act and only as much as he needs to feel satisfied.

If my mom is happy with my satisfaction, oh gee, how nicely do I eat, how good am I at eating being so young!

There’s no child who does not speak enough, if speaking means communication and connection, and only that. If speaking is through the eyes, gestures, cries and smiles and when it is genuine. Then the girl realizes that she is being perfectly understood.

If my mom is happy with my satisfaction, oh gee, how well do I express myself, how good am I at expressing myself being so young!

There’s no child who rebels against limits, if they offer a safe boundary, a form of love that speaks to the heart and only that. Then accepting a limit means feeling a maternal embrace, firm and calm.

If my mom is happy with my satisfaction, oh gee, how nicely do I respond, how good am I at accepting limits being so young!

No little girl wants to sleep. No baby boy wants to go to bed. Because sleep is a change of state, a transition and only that. But that’s just what the boy feels as a challenge, just that puts the girl on an alert.

If my mom accepts my efforts to learn how to navigate the changes, oh gee, and from the first moment in the day I can eat , express and accept by myself being respected, oh gee, I think it’s time for my mom to stop putting me to sleep, oh gee, to stop bouncing me, driving the car, moving the stroller, walking with me in her arms, rocking me in the cradle, putting me to the breast as if it were a sleeping pill, oh gee, it’s time for her to trust that I can also learn to sleep by myself , oh gee , in my own bed, oh gee, in my own bed, oh geeeeeeee!

(sing this using maracas, tambourines and gymnastics ribbons with pure art. If you get Raffi to sing along with you the chorus, even better).

Sometimes it takes us more than a baby to learn this.

But at some point appears a light at the end of the road , we wonder if we are dead but no, we are more alive than ever before. And if you are left wanting more details, oh gee, leave your comment bellow, because right now I have no more time. It’s 6:58 a.m, oh gee, and one after another three little lion cubs appear into the scene, three little cubs oh gee, and they call me, they call me: Mamaaaa!

 

One doubt… here comes the sun

We are in the car, the 5 of us.

My husband and I are in a bad mood, it is late and we have to do a lot of errands.

Kids bear with us.

There is 90% possibilities of emotional storm in our family weather forecast.

Suddenly, from the back a little voice arrives (the very same that was mentioned here).

– I have one doubt, is it possible for a kid to be allergic to adults?

The sky clears all of a sudden. The sun shines bright within the car.

Impossible not to laugh.

Pride, no prejudice. Or why my boys wear flower crowns.

A paper moon, a fading sky.

Evanescent daylight.

Stilled mind opens the gap for a flower hunt.

Accomplished the task, hidden mischief, back home we are.

Now scattered perfumes, melted beauty fills the kitchen´s heart.

Nature´s palette embellishing the table of the newborn night.

Also scissors, tape, cardboard (recycled pizza boxes, actually… pizza always inspired us).

In and out flows our breath.

Harmonious creativity, a silent path.

Suddenly the surprise.

Oh my!
A little king emerges,
precious nature’s jewels adorning his inner sky!

– I love you mom, his petal whispers fall into the fountain of my heart.

…

A new day arrives, get the camera, go outside.
Catch the best of morning light.

Apples, cheese and bread.

A royal breakfast, pure simplicity.

Three little kings sit and chit-chat.

So young, so proud.

Fulfilled, satisfied, I wear my crown.

Ripe dream, let me be a queen.

– Here son, take a picture of mine.

I extend the camera to the older child.

He takes his time, presses the shooter, shows me his art.

There´s no queen to be seen.

That´s only me, a simple smiling mom.

His focus is in my eyes.

– How I love you son, whispering petals fall into the fountain in his heart…

Now, could you let me see a picture of me wearing the crown?

Click.

– There you are, mom.

Maternity.

Fading beauty, eternally mine.

Maternity: fading beauty, eternally mine. (or why my boys wear flower crowns and feel proud).

A paper moon, a fading sky.

Evanescent daylight.

Stilled mind opens the gap for a flower hunt.

Accomplished the task, hidden mischief, back home we are.

Now scattered perfumes, melted beauty fills the kitchen´s heart.

Nature´s palette embellishing the table of the newborn night.

Also scissors, tape, cardboard (recycled pizza boxes, actually… pizza always inspired us).

In and out flows our breath.

Harmonious creativity, a silent path.

Suddenly the surprise.

Oh my!
A little king emerges,
precious nature’s jewels adorning his inner sky!

– I love you mom, his petal whispers fall into the fountain of my heart.

…

A new day arrives, get the camera, go outside.
Catch the best of morning light.

Apples, cheese and bread.

A royal breakfast, pure simplicity.

Three little kings sit and chit-chat.

So young, so proud.

Fulfilled, satisfied, I wear my crown.

Ripe dream, let me be a queen.

– Here son, take a picture of mine.

I extend the camera to the older child.

He takes his time, presses the shooter, shows me his art.

There´s no queen to be seen.

That´s only me, a simple smiling mom.

His focus is in my eyes.

– How I love you son, whispering petals fall into the fountain in his heart…

Now, could you let me see a picture of me wearing the crown?

Click.

– There you are, mom. 

About falling down and getting hurt as an adult, as an infant. A not so far experience.

I am ok now. My right leg must be kept high for one more week, nothing to worry about. But a lot to learn from.

It was Saturday morning and my husband had gone to work to the Capital City driving our car. (We are a one car family – which is great because we were a no car family for some time and it gets tough to move around with three kids).
Anyhow, I had no car and around 10 AM my PC collapsed. I thought it could be easily repaired so I went to our local commercial center by bus. Two kids and the big PC case came with me. When I was stepping down from the bus, the big case covered my visual field, the floor was not flat, my ankle twisted and I fell down crashing the other leg knee strongly against the floor. Many buses in Argentina do have really stiff climbing steps so I fell down from a considerable height. (The upper photo shows it clearly).

The only thing I knew was I was suffering a tremendous pain in both my legs.

In the meanwhile, the PC case flew in the air banging against the sidewalk.
The bus dirver did not move.
My kids stepped down after me.
The little one was crying.
The bus supervisor started arguing with a lady passenger.
Two really big guys held me from both sides trying to set me on my feet.

I wished I were alone, nobody around me, to suffer my pain in peace. But I had to react and respond, speak and set limits, protect and comfort.

– Don´t pull me up, was the first I could say. I cannot stand.

– You two, stop arguing. (Their emotional energy was pouring over my head and it really disturbed me).

– Little one, come here. Mama got hurt but I will be ok. Sit on my lap.

It demanded me so much energy, so much experience, so much love to say those three sentences under those circumstances!

Slowly pain decreased, my good friend Irene picked me up, brought me home, placed a bandage and arnica cream on the swelled foot.

Time and patience did the rest.

I am ok now, just the right ankle must rest high for some more days and my mother / teacher heart must remember.

Remember.

My own children and my little students.

The youngest are 18 months, 2 and 3 years old. The more they learned to move independently and the more they grew in a safe caring environment, the less they get hurt or fall down. But still they go through this experience quite more often than we adults do.

Here and then they have an accident. And once and again it hurts.

What happens when a toddler falls down?

Does anyone wait for a child to overcome pain, comforting and allowing him or her to stay where he or she fell down as long as needed?

Do parents argue instead of assisting and comforting the hurt child? (“Where where you? Why did you let him fall?”… I have seen many parents fighting out of fear, their emotions set in the first place overwhelming the already stressed child).

Do infants have to “care” for the adult´s feelings?

A week later my little students came back to play. I told them what happened in a serene way, using few words, sharing my life with them.

Amber (2) pulled up her trouser and showed me her knee wound. She understood me well.

Benjamin (18mo) said “PUM!” and held his forehead adding sorround sound to my story.

Big Bus, commented Mily offering a sense of size.

Martin (20mo) went to his mom and retold her the story. He broadcasted the experience to the general public.

Sophie said: “wate, wate”.
– Are still you thirsty?
– Yes, she answered.

Mily had left the table to pick a soft ball next to Martin who already played with a transparent jar.

Life went on.

I poured a little water in Sophie´s glass and gratitude expanded within myself.

Feeling understood is such a wonderful experience…

And they understood me so well… They really did.

Mess or Marvel? Depends on your perspective.

This is my early childhood educational center after the last playgroup meeting yesterday.

Done by kids age 3 to 6.

In Cooperation. Concentration. Contemplation.

Absolute beauty.

Believe me. I really appreciate it. With all my heart.

However, I had the intention to untangle the whole thing to be able to reach the entrance in a straight line, without having to sort “snakes”, “laser rays”, “time machines” and “time tunnels”.

My kids begged me not to.

– Boys, I can barely walk here, I said.

– We know!, middle one agreed in a gleeful mood, his eyes sparkling true enthusiasm. – That´s the best of it!

Parenting Glasses. An insightful experience.

Wow! I love these glasses! They are the result of the last Parenting Circle meeting at La Casa Naranja, my free playgroup center for babies, toddlers and parents.

Last Wednesday we worked on all our doubts regarding parenting in general and our children in particualr. Each one of us wrote a list of all the big and small questions about daily parenting. Then, we reread the questions (silently, just for ourselves) and tried to find categories to which these questions could belong: limits, education, changes in life, organization, philosophy, etc.

Finally, I shared an overview of the book Dear Parent, by Magda Gerber. The objective was to gain a new perspective in order to find different -and hopefully more satisfying.-answers to our daily dilemmas. Having established categories would help us to identify the areas where we had more doubts.

The “parenting glasses” came as a synthesis of what was shared and discussed that day:

• Respect is the main structure that supports our parenting vision. Much harm has been done in the name of Love, but no harm can be done in the name of Respect, Magda Gerber said!

 

• Both glasses are made of the “natural development” ingredient. But they take two different directions.

 

• One glass is for “discovering the natural developmental INTENTION behind a childs action”. This helps us to stop judging their activities as “right” or “wrong” and to start understanding the hidden engine behind their acts.

  Intention is the manifestation of a developmental need. It is a healthy, natural, humane engine, struggling to set development into a constant growing movement. Babies and toddlers do not pretend to drive parents crazy, so we should not take their actions personal. They feel a strong urge to follow their natural developmental pattern and the more we understand this, the better we will be able to set clear, respectful and firm limits guiding the child into the path of self discipline.

  Once we understand the intention we can also offer options, more adequate ones (i.e. “I won´t let you bite your friend, but you can bite this soft ring instead”, etc).  Then we can set limits and acknowledge their impulse at the same time. In this way it is possible to validate their emotions, reaffirming our loving presence and guidance.

 

• The second glass stands for setting an ADEQUATE CONTEXT for natural development. Here safety is nr. 1 priority since it grants uninterrupted free play and movement. Offering the baby and toddler proper play objects and free movement opportunities will make the rest. They don´t need us to stimulate or entertain them, to show them how to do things nor to assist them constantly. They don´t need to become performers either (“show grannie how you dance”, “sing for auntie the frog song”, “tell me, how many red balls are there  in the basket…one, two or three? This question is unnecessary unless you´re colorblind or you don´t know how to count!). An adequate context implies freedom. It also implies to know what should not be expected or included as a play object according to our child´s age.

  After reading Pikler and Gerber you get to know not sitting up babies ahead of time and not “walking” them are two quite obvious rules. But deciding how many pieces should a jigsaw have for a 2 years old little girl is a more subtle decision. A short spanned frustration is adequate to keep a child interested, so he can find self-satisfaction in overcoming new challenges. But pretending him to ensemble a 40 pieces Monet painting is not.

  Too  much, too early is counteractive and in the end, disrespectful of the child´s nature. What our child needs from us is a clear, honest and safe bond, not a constant pressure to broadcast their brilliant uniqueness.

  This bond can be clearly established from the very first day of life, through our dedicated and constant presence during daily caring activities such as feeding, bath and dressing. If we keep focused and invite them to cooperate during these daily routines, we will be granting a deep and loving heart to heart connection with our little child.

Nice synthesis, right?

What I like the most about what happened with these glasses is the fact that I was able to avoid the all-knowing-parenting-coach- pedestal. I didn´t answer any of the questions parents made, in fact, I pleaded them not even to read them to me (in case I would feel tempted to make one or two suggestions… once I hear a parenting question my mind is set to answer!)

What I really celebrate about these glasses is that each one can decide when and how to “wear” them, respecting first of all one own´s intuition and to each one´s best understanding. We, parents are self-learners too… How I wish we nourish that basic trust in ourselves as easily as we trust our little ones!

What do you think?

“Madge and her Magic”. What Magda Gerber has done for me (and other grown-ups).

You can stay at the shore, denying pearls exist.
Or you can dive into the sea, and find out the truth.

I admit I am a passionate woman and this is a passionate post. A post about a woman who turned to be an amazing friend although I didn´t get the chance to meet her in person. A post about the journey I started guided by her words. And about my gratitude for what I found following her path.

I met her around 4 years ago. Our encounter started softly, as a shy relationship. Somehow I came across her name… I don´t know how it happened nor when I read about her  for the first time. Never mind. The fact is it happened.

Magda Gerber, a Hungarian infant specialist came into my life. And changed me. As a mother, as a wife, as an educationist, as a parent advisor, as a human being.

In my working space I offer playgroups for babies and infants based on the free education movement. I particularly base my work on the research conducted by Dr. Emmi Pikler and the parenting philosophy provided by Magda Gerber at RIE.

Even when the playgroups are oriented to babies and infants, I notice a clear need in parents for guidance and help.

“How do you do it?”, they ask me. “You are respectful and loving. You don´t shout, you don´t scold, you don´t neither punish nor lose your temper at ANY time and toddlers play in such a self-regulated and harmonious way!”

They believe I am a magician (lol!). Just imagine… some hocus pocus here, some fairy dust there and, voilá! A peaceful active and engaged toddler playgroup emerges. But I know nothing about magic (ups!). Sorry to confess that. My only secret is this: I took to heart the treasure that Magda Gerber has left in her Educaring approach.

When I first read Magda Gerber, something deep within told me it was a great discovery. I didn´t have the need for further research to support what I found. None could have been better than my own, clear, intense and heartfelt understanding: her vision is TRUE. Or even better: her vision offered me a link to my inner TRUTH.

It is not about a theory. It´s about life expanding under a new light.

In my work field I have observed how much guilt parents feel when they cannot strictly follow this or that theory they´ve been recommended as the best one for rearing their babies, which is a real pity because guilt deprives parenting from the joy of being intuitional and respectful to oneself (and therefore to the rest of the world, starting with our babies).

In some cases, intelligent, loving parents even put their babies into real danger (physical danger I mean, such as driving with a baby on the lap or carrying a baby while dealing with boiling water on a stove) because they cannot stand hearing them cry. They know  they are doing wrong, still they  feel lost. When they ask me for help, we have noticed that having read about attachment parenting and brain damage caused by intense crying was a main influence on their risky decision.

Of course, sleep and limits are also always present in my playgroups parent´s agenda. In an endless insomniac chain of desperate days they have read all what they found on the topic and have tried a bunch of methods. Even when they really want it (and need it), still they can´t put their toddlers to sleep in their own beds and they feel  lost in the quicksand of confusion when facing their children´s need for limits.

Since they trust me, they tend to ask for help (they still think I have some magic powder somewhere – I have none, I insist). When I listen to their questions, I tune in. I check my own experiences. I accept them, share them and let them go. Then I connect: what would Magda have answered? God! I don´t know! So I wait… And trust…

I let her words come to me. What did she say related to the particular issue? That´s the lifesaving device that always helps. Parents start nodding in acknowledgment. They get touched. Usually this is enough for them to find their own way through. They start verbalizing themselves their own answers! And I feel a tremendous gratitude.

Differently from other theories, Gerber offers a philosophy, a way of questioning, understanding and interpreting infant education. If you just analyze it from “outside”, without testing it, you may criticize many topics, especially if they are taken out of context (such as misinterpreting “not immediately picking up a crying baby” as “abandonment”, or “not carrying babies” as “underestimating skin to skin contact”).

Accessing to a knowledge that points beyond the regular social standards  tends to be generally criticized, because it won´t fit into social accepted ideas of what is Truth. If you stay in that realm, you´d probably find lots of reasonable arguments to judge her approach and even think her philosophy is “outdated”, old-fashioned… as some people do say.

I´m convinced this is simple vain talk, just as staying in the shore, denying the existence of pearls. She was way advanced in the front line of humane vanguard.

But if you dive into Gerber´s vision, if you test it and get really soaked with its principles, that´s quite a different experience. Being it so wonderful, why is not everyone joining in, then?

I guess the hard part of Magda Gerber´s approach is that we, adults, need to reteach ourselves. At least this is what her magic guided me to 

• relearn how to WAIT for life´s perfect timing, instead of pressuring into it,
• relearn how to RESPECT in a deep humane way beyond stereotypes and age gaps,
• relearn how to ACKNOWLEDGE and ACCEPT .

Imagine a world ruled under these statements. If we are in any way expanding into an evolutionary process, I would sow for a future guided by these principles. I cannot think of a better way to define LOVE.

She saw that future. She found the pathway to a better world by respecting life from the very beginning.

She did it for babies.

She did it for us.

So the other day, when my heart jumped in joy (one more time) while observing and working with peaceful, happy babies, toddlers and parents I could only say: Hey! There was some magic here after all, but it is not mine… it belongs to her.

Thank you Magda! May this be my humble tribute to you.