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I had some thoughts last night as I was falling asleep. Nothing too remarkable to anyone but me, I’m sure, but ones that I want to get down in print anyway. I’m not sure what jogged my mind but I suddenly remembered an incident from two years ago.

We had gone on a vacation to the beach with several other family members. We were the only ones there with a child and the trip was close to being a disaster for him – being dragged around with a bunch of adults to places of no interest to him with no other children to play with. We finally had to cut ties and do our own thing to save sanity.

There was one dinner I remember well. We had not been unschooling for very long and were still on shaky ground with all the new ideas. Zeb was still in the first throes of deschooling and I was still learning how to be a different, more peaceful parent. I still had little idea what any of it looked like in real life and we were an unstable pair, for sure! We sat down to eat and Zeb was too stimulated. The typical response came from the adults at the table – the kind that diminishes a child’s needs and insists they comply in ways they are not yet mature enough to handle.

Looking back I can see how I would handle things now. I would have anticipated Zeb’s needs. We would have picked a more child-friendly setting to eat or played outside until the food was ready. I would have done everything within my power to create an environment for success.
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But I didn’t do those things and was now faced with seriously contrasting demands on a seriously fragile little boy. I didn’t handle it well but I did the best I could in a very hard situation. I stood up for my son…to the extreme. I stated his needs were more important to me than anyone else’s at the table. Not exactly conducive to a peaceful meal.

But it wasn’t until last night that I realized how important it was that I had that exact experience. As a young mother, I had been faced with criticism and judgement from Day One and had learned to parent with an eye towards the on-lookers. I had grown to fear looking like a “bad” or “permissive”  or stereotypical young mother and instead learned to neglect my child’s need for support and compassion. I believed in order to be accepted and not judged I had to offer only “tough love” to ensure I produced a child others would view as “well raised”.

Out of fear, I cared more for the thoughts of others than I dared care for my own son.

And in that moment at the restaurant I needed – in all my inexperience and shaky beliefs and probably unfounded emotions at that time – to make a stand. To assert for myself and for Zeb that I was not the same. To insist to the world they no longer mattered to me as much as my child, that he now came first and that respect for that was paramount.

Truthfully, to look at it now, it is a rather embarrassing moment. I didn’t handle it well and it certainly wasn’t an shining example of what unschooling, consensual living or peaceful parenting is. I don’t know that I’ve ever related the story to other unschoolers. I’ve never been told what I did wrong or what I could have done differently or what I should do next time. No one was there to point out the “lesson”. It took me two years to really understand my actions like I do now; to see that I had to swing from one end of the pendulum (allowing others to dictate my parenting) to the other (all potential dictators be damned!) in order to find and move from my center. Had someone lectured me in the infantile state I was in, my own embarrassment probably would have shut me down to any perceived criticism or attempts at help. Who wants to be reminded of their shortcomings?
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As I lay in bed last night, remembering the words and emotions of the evening, I began to wonder how often those same situations have arose in Zeb’s life. How many times has he made a choice that internally didn’t feel quite right to him? Did I give him the space to ruminate and find a deeper, more meaningful understanding or did I rub salt in the wound by trying to bring the lesson home?

It’s a fine line to walk – to know when to talk it over and when to allow it to brew quietly beneath the surface of their minds. It’s difficult to allow life to teach the real lessons and trust our kids will get it. But I want to remember that tiny voice that whispered to me before I drifted off last night. Healthy kids in healthy environments will get it. We all will. Like me, we just need time and support to adjust or heal or accept what Life is saying.

[Haiku photo idea totally snagged from Molly.]