And now for … Christmas

Most who know me, know that I am not great at Christmas.

Don’t like shopping

Don’t like adverts for toys on TV

Don’t like glitter everywhere

Don’t like having to get things early because there is a last post day

D..n probably missed that already

BUT I LOVE ALL THE PEOPLE – especially here. When anything is going on, everybody comes and joins in [well if they didn't - there wouldn't be anyone there would there? This is a small island.]

On Wednesday, just after dark fell at 5.30, it was Christmas Tree Lighting – on the Harbor Church Lawn. Pre-school and kindergarten sang some songs with a little help from a few older kids. Most of the older kids were too busy drinking hot chocolate and eating monkey bars. Some of them were racing about in the dark, fortunately the three I was responsible for (parents are having a couple of days off island) have the hair – strawberry blonde ponytails flash well in the moonlight! Granny can see them! And Santa arrived on the Fire Truck to wish us all well.

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Enjoy December Everyone – wherever you are.

Run for the boat

All island dwellers will understand the title to this post.

When you go off-island, you have to get back again.

You have to do everything that can’t be done/got/whatever while you are off

You have to catch the last boat.

Drive, park the car, grab all the bags, children, dog,

RUN FOR THE BOAT

Yesterday was Block Island Middle School first soccer match of the season, against Williams in Connecticut – more than an hour’s drive from the ferry.

I have to say soccer because we are in USA and using what I think is the proper name leads to confusion.

Callum is assistant coach and Fiona has just reached 6th grade so they went on boat and the official bus.

Rest of family, Wendy, Granny, Ruby Rory and new puppy Finn, went in support, on boat and family minivan.

Block Island is a small school, so the team is 6th, 7th and 8th grade, girls and boys, pretty much all of them. This means they usually lose to the mainland teams who are fielding mostly 8th graders, proven athletes. They lost, but they did play well, and ran and ran and ran right till the end.

Except Fiona who pulled hamstring 5 minutes into game and spent the rest of the time on the bench with ice-pack. Get well soon Fiona, the team needs you. [But onsite trainer says at least two weeks rest, as this is a previous injury, not healed.]

Fiona and Julia G 6th grade soccer stars, with Finn on the boat.

Then it was 5.40 and the last boat leaves at 7.00pm.

6.50pm. Made it.

Wendy drops me, Ruby, Rory, Finn on leash and all bags at the ferry.

Wendy drives off to car-park.

Official bus ten yards further on decanting exhausted team.

Ruby and Rory have bag each and run as they are supposed to.

I have bag and the water bottles and dog and tickets.

Dog stops.

Dog will not move.

Dog is pooping.

Help Ruby Rory I need you.

They are talking to BI Team friends and big sister.

I am holding dog leash with one hand, also tickets, hunting for plastic bag, dropping water bottles.

Get plastic, negotiate one-handed clean-up.

Callum [HIS DOG] decants last of team safely from bus, strolls across,

…… leave this bit out……

We are on boat, Wendy is on boat, Finn is mobbed by all children and adults, and other dogs.

That was his first ever run for the boat.

 

 

Responsibility – whose? – what kind?

This is a response to Sidey who commented on my post Being a Granny, saying “being a grandparent means being able to love without the responsibility”. I have heard this lots of times, felt it too as I love returning to my own space, but learning grannyhood has been a journey just like learning parenting once was, life-changing in its own way. I do not agree with the comment. I feel there is always responsibility, indeed the more love the more responsibility – but responsibilities  are of different kinds. Parental responsibility is bounded too, not the total aaagh which it sometimes seems. At least, I think this now, it is where I have got to so far. Be warned, this is a long post, but then it is a big topic.

I am thinking about two important strands which have led me here, the tied together issues of responsibility and rights. A little bit of separated thinking, though they are better back together, mutually related.

Responsibility: Surely the only person we can be responsible FOR is oneself? Of course we are always in relationship to others (in some way, even when alone) what we do (even a passive nothing or unchosen unconscious reaction) affects the others, so we can say we are also always responsible (accountable) TO others. And this means that the “what kind of responsibility” is related to the role we have in that relationship. [Yeah Yeah, roles are complex, multiple, lover, admirer, counsellor, teacher, punisher?, playmate, friend, nurse, doctor, etc etc dependent on context, but keep this simple, there is a difference between being a Mum and being a Granny, to the baby/child/teenager/adult].

My favourite picture of a 10-month old child discovering ‘responsibility for her actions’, just after she had learnt to open the fridge door and tossed all sorts of delightful stuff on to the floor. Look at the eye contact, the way this wonderful mum gets her message across.

But, even as parent, I AM NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR WHAT MY CHILDREN DO. They are responsible. At any age!!! YES I mean that – think about the ‘what kind of responsibility and how to exercise it’ phrase. As parent I am/was responsible for my actions (that includes omissions) now it is to my sons and daughters-in-law, and I am responsible for my actions as grandmother (to each of my grandchildren). But, how they receive my action, how they react or respond, that is their responsibility. [There is a whole other post here about the wrongness of blaming parents who are already in difficulty bringing up their children, about the punitive bringing parents to book, etc. rather than offering some more challenging kind of interaction which would bring both children and parents to accept responsibilities for themselves and to others.]

Before talking about ‘rights’  (and isn’t this picture also about the right of a child to learn that her action has consequences in a non-punitive way?) there is a little discussed psychological relation sometimes known as ‘psychic theft’. This happens when parents (or other responsible adults in relationship with someone who depends on them, i.e. doctor-patient, teacher-pupil, etc.) take over responsibility which is not actually theirs to take. And yes we all do it over and over again , and learn not to – ask my daughters-in-law how long it took me to learn whose children the grandkids are – so this is not a guilt trip discussion.

Psychic theft is a problem if it is chronic, and remains unlearned. Example: A small child, just learning to manage feeding herself, reaches out for the banana and tips over her cup of milk (example borrowed from Christopher Bollas, then put in my words, so I am responsible for this). Attentive Carer (the thief) jumps up whisks child and banana out of way, and cleans up. Why is this theft? Alternative scenario – child reaches for banana, spills milk. Oh says carer, softly, oh, says child, starting to think as milk drips on her leg. Tissue, she says, she is just starting to talk too. Carer hands over kitchen roll, child does swiping about, mother says will I help and when invited manages to unobtrusively restore order. The difference is that the child had already some ability to feel responsible, and a wish to make things better, and she learns that this is both possible and feels good. She develops both ability and self-confidence. The first reaction takes responsibility away from the child, in effect steals her capacity to care about her own actions. Her chance to develop has been taken away. Both the controlling kind of parent, and the permissive kind of parent, can be thieves, they both see the child as unable to take any responsibility. The trick is to imagine the person you are responsible towards has just a bit more capability than you think they have, then you can back-track if you have to, clean up the spilt milk. (You can’t back-track from a theft, the opportunity does not return.) You are in a reciprocal responsive relationship, neither controlling nor permissive.

Rights: Start thinking about the rights of the others the grandparents and parents are responsible to – the babies who will become toddlers, then, children, then teenagers, then adults, and maybe become parents too, one day. Once a long time ago as a lecturer/teacher trainer I did a lot of lecturing (still accessible) around this subject, using the United Nations Convention on the Rights of the Child, 1989, the CRC.

[Quick aside - do you know that the CRC is the most complete statement of children’s rights ever produced and is the most widely-ratified international human rights treaty in history. All UN member states except for two have now formally approved the Convention. Who are these two countries who have not ratified CRC in their own governing bodies? They are Somalia and USA. If you are a citizen of USA, do you know why not? If you are a citizen of Somalia, we know your country is riven by civil war, which might prevent attention to other details, but still, why not?]

Every child has a right to the 3 P’s: Provision, Protection, and Participation. The first two are pretty obvious, provision of the necessities of life, like food, clean water, shelter, and protection from harm, whatever kind from dirty water to psychological harm to cluster bombs and all that stuff. Parents try, grandparents help, so do all sorts of responsible people in our societies. (Sadly ratification hasn’t made rights happen in lots of cases, and lots of places, who made all those decisions to bomb somewhere.) The third, participation, is the one which ties in to ‘who is responsible for what’ as it means the child has a right to participation in all decisions and actions which concern him/her. If a child is denied participation, there is probably some psychic theft going on somewhere. Responsibility, that which belongs to the child, is quite impossible to isolate from rights, it is deeply and irrevocably connected to them. Ditto, adults also have both.

All my family, in 2009, the only time we have all been together on the same continent, to celebrate my ex’s 70th birthday. We continue to co-parent, as well as we can, and sometimes co-grand-parent too, though that has not happened very often.

What has all this to do with being a granny? Maybe just that psychic theft story – all it takes to make the difference is not jumping in without reflecting. We are not talking emergencies here! The momentary stop, feel (empathy), think (who needs the help, what kind of help) oops does it just make ME feel busy-and-good, etc. Maybe my role just now is ‘let them get on with it’, all the way to ‘help asked for, choose how to give it.

While I was writing this I recalled one of my own very early memories. I am three years old (true because it happens in the house we moved out of soon after that) and I am sitting on the bench with my feet in the kitchen sink, helping my mother wash the dishes. That’s it. I remember I AM HELPING, and where I was sitting. Any adult, especially those harassed by a three year-old, and somewhere there was also a sister aged 4 and a sister aged 1, can imagine the nature of the help offered, and know well that probably I was being kept away from the baby, or comforted after a spat with my big sister, whatever. But what I know now I have had children of my own, is that I had a mother who helped me to feel able to help. I wish she could have met the daughters-in-law and the grandchildren. I wonder would she have liked blogging? I bet she would!

We are each responsible for our own actions, in the role we have with the others, especially our capacity to reflect as we act, or hold back the ‘me’ reaction. Thanks again Sidey, for the stimulus to revisit and think again. There are now a whole lot more posts waiting to happen, like ‘love’ and ‘freedom’. If you have read this far, I hope you are stimulated too, freedom from what? did you say??

Being a Granny

Sidey’s Weekend Theme: Something Old, Something New

By definition, if a grandmother, not new, must be old. (Had a birthday this week too, so underline that.) But the experience, being a granny, still feels new, every day even though my grandchildren at the present day count are aged 11, 9, 8 and 4, and 4 less one minute. Three girls in USA and two boys, the twins, in Shanghai.

What is it about grandparenting? I happen to be reading Margaret Foster’s book “Isa and May” also about this very thing. Have not finished it yet so no answers to the question, but I always like her writing. (Bet she is one now too.)

But, no doubt for me, grannyhood offers something old and something new – and is neither borrowed nor blue.

This is February 2010 at the Giant’s Causeway, she is 10 in this picture, now 11, she is taller than I am. More important, an interested, interesting, reflective (from birth), wonderful girl. No prize for guessing who the old one is.

Serious, caring, sometimes worrying, sometimes very very funny. I cannot show a photo of this beauty’s smile, because when she smiles, the world shifts. Maybe someone can capture it, I’ll just see it next time I’m there when it happens.

Find the Monkey. Affectionate, passionate, so aware of the world and all in it, if you should think your heart might be full already, forget that stupidity, this girl has room for you in hers.

Louis at Shanghai Botanic Gardens, considering a statue. He is incredible, a mimic, an artist, full of stories, verbal, vocal (in both his languages) and confident. Hey Granny, do you know… He is kind too.

Action man, Ben 10, computer whiz, can count to 1000 and does when keeping balloon in the air – geek/nerd to be? Also thinks a lot, and loves hugs and kisses and cuddles and dogs … The elephant is a statue in Shanghai Botanic Gardens.

There is only one photo of them all together, when west and east met in 2009, BUT I CAN’T FIND IT. And 2009 is now OLD.

We will just have to meet again, get a NEW one.

 

Walking to … and from … school

After birthday excitement, where presents continued to be very successful choices, foot high roaring dinosaur for Louis and noisy truck for Ali, and appreciative boys for grown-ups, the next day was Thursday 1st September and first day of new school. Now, the ‘old’ school was just five minutes boy-walk from our door, so was very convenient, and the new one has been granny-tried every which way, and the distance was going to be half-hour if we walked, half-hour if we went on the bus (walk to stop, wait, bus goes three sides of a square, walk from other end) and if-it-rains we will get a taxi – unknown wait time at 8am? Granny solution (bike and boys on the back chinese style) has understandably been vetoed by parents, so Cindy and I thought we would do the first day by taxi, so the would arrive happy and fresh. She had been asked to bring them a little late, as ‘new’ boys, and had arranged to go in to her work late so she could come with me and do the necessary talk to teachers etc in chinese, without mis-understanding.

Well, you have heard about best-laid plans I am sure. On Thursday all was fairly well as arranged except that Granny had not yet been informed that they began school late on their first day, so was saying no play with new toys till after school, and then had to change mind and say Yes play with new toys because Mummy is not ready to come with us yet and we are going later. The effect of this is very happy boys, Granny  you were wrong, and they had a very nice time playing. When Mummy said she was ready and Time to go, Zou ba Zou ba, they were keen to put on shoes and get out the door to ‘get in the taxi’. But, on the street, not only one taxi, but loads of them and cars and lorries and all, all totally immobile, and honking horns as loudly as possible as the chinese drivers do, and Cindy and I just looked at each other and said “Walk!”. The cause was an accident further along, and with sympathy for whoever was involved it could not have been better for us. The walk was instant enjoyment, going past all the horn-honkers, dodging the bikes and motor bikes which also took to the pavement, and generally losing their (minor) apprehensions about new school in talking non-stop about the mayhem which lasted all the way to school.

So, it also became clear that ‘walk-to-school’ was not too hard for little legs. The walk home, which we had not had any worries about because there would never be any urgency about getting home, has also been even better than anticipated. There are three landmarks they know well. From the school, ZiWei Shanghai Experimental Kindergarten in Guilin Street East, we walk to the Guilin Road crossing, a big big road with traffic lights and the ubiqitous red man green man which no driver in China pays any heed to whatever, but we look for him anyway, and manage well enough in the torrent of bicycles which go on green. Next stop is ‘the river’ which has a nice bridge to cross and look through or over, shaded walk-ways and parkland to the PuBei Road bridge on the East, and a market running alongside the river on the west. After that, still on Guilin Street West, which is one-way and mainly residential, we come to very familiar territory, our favourite “running track” recreation ground. Louis and Ali could find their own way home from here, but they do not, they stop and in we go for lots of energetic play and fun so that when we got home yesterday it was nearly 6pm and they were very happy to settle down and play with the new toys. Just as well, as Granny was feeling ancient.

The recreation ground was buzzing with just-out-of-school children, and we met some of their previous classmates from KidCastle kindergarten. Louis was brilliant, sharing his new dinosaur with them all for playing, and Ali thoroughly enjoyed a see-saw and a lot of running around with some other kids. I hadn’t seem them interacting separately with others before, great to see. They still get a huge amount of attention from the other parents and grandparents, and both boys are now answering confidently in chinese, but are puzzled and ask Donal and I why everyone talks to them so much. (Maybe they will get fed-up with it like I do.) We try to explain why people always ask ‘where are you from?’, ‘do you speak chinese?’ etc. Half British, half chinese, half New-Zealand boys, Louis always says he is a New Zealand boy, but they sometimes want to be American like Ruby and Rory and Fiona, and we only mention Ireland now and again, where grandpa George lives, or Scotland where Uncle Neill is. It is just as well they do not do math yet, too many halfs all round. Cindy has just come home with a world-globe.

Whatever they are, they do seem happy.

xxxx

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