To me, eggs symbolize the hope inherent in motherhood
In the fall of 2006, I briefly lost my mind. I began homeschooling my 4 boys, entered a Master’s program in mental health counseling, and folded my magazine, Porch. Porch had begun as a dream of mine, and had turned into a nightmare, consuming our family’s savings. We were struggling. The combined stress of tight finances mixed with more than a little guilt that I had somehow caused it by selfishly pursuing a dream was enough. But starting to homeschool and begin a Master’s degree at the same time? I entered therapy.
I only needed a couple of months, being heard by a therapist, reminding myself of my strengths and learning some stress reduction techniques.
What I also took away from that brief but super low period was the importance of easy and free (or cheap) access to mental health counseling.
Nancia Leath has become a mentor for me as I pursue my degree in mental health counseling. She’s far away geographically, but her way of being with clients is super close to my heart. This essay, Teardrops of a Mother, by Nancia Leath, captures the essence of what is possible through good mental health counseling.
In my case, I had tons of support, internal strengths and, really, a life skill set that meant that my low period would be brief and I would persevere. Things would (and did) get better.
For other mothers, though, there isn’t nearly enough support, and, in fact, quite a few hurdles as they try to raise their children.
Soon, I will begin my field experience to finish my degree and get ready to become a mental health counselor. If I am able to help mothers find their way the time spent will be justified.
Here’s the thing. In my other life, I blog and tweet and facebook about sustainable real estate development in the Kootenays. I’m always looking for cool new modern stuff, interior and exterior.
Occasionally, though, I come across really fail design. And the weirdest thing is that the absolutely most fail thing I keep coming across is bookshelves that don’t work.
And it is really starting to tick me off. I read. A lot. I still own books. I own a ton of books, and the thing is, I use them. They aren’t just a design element in my house. So I see a blog post with “bookshelves” in the title, I get excited. I think I’m going to find a new way to keep my books in order and my house will look cool and uber modern.
So here’s the thing. I wish I had started this earlier. I have found people who like to make their books into the shape of christmas trees (not helpful), store them in hanging macrame things (wtf), catalogue them by color (are you insane?) and now this.
Make a wobbly bridge to put your books on? Really? That’s helpful only if you have 5 books, and you don’t need to access them. Ever.
I love Apartment Therapy, so this isn’t about them. And I love Instructables, where they got the idea from (never end a sentence with a preposition)
But for whatever reason, I guess I should just say that I need a personal blog to vent about this small, stupid piece in my life that is eating away at me and making me less fun to be around : ) (I’m kidding…I’m always fun to be around)
More to come when I refind those other lovely bookshelves that irked me, or come across the next fail bookshelf design article.
Why are people so gullible?
So I was happily trolling the Internet this morning, looking for things to Tweet about on @kootenayliving. As usually happens, I end up finding just as many things that interest me personally…and then I Tweet those @wendykkelly.
I stumbled upon a cute (but also kind of sad) “Valentines By The Numbers” post shared by @imadnaffa. It was cute, but the next post caught my eye:
It was an “article” exposing a contraption invented by a “Japanese Scienitist” to elector-shock your kids to make them smile.
My back went up. I’m not Japanese, but I have an affinity for Japan, having lived there for about 2 years (20 years ago this year).
There was *no way* that this was real. First of all, Japanese culture isn’t stereotypically harsh on kids…kinda the opposite. Second, Japanese culture isn’t particularly (stereotypically) big on smiling…
Weirdly, this looked like exactly the kind of contraption I could see someone (stereotypically) in Kansas using on their kids. In Japan, stereotypically, Grandma *lives* with you (ideally) so there’s no “Oh, shit, Grandma’s coming, better get the smiles on!”
I may be way off (I only lived there for 2 years) but I don’t think so.
Anyway, I figured I’d just Google “Electro Smile” and “Urban Legend” and be done with it.
NO. Such. Luck.
Page after page came up of the same g.d. story, repeated without any *fact checking* at all on website after website.
Come on, people! What. the. hell.
Finally, I found the irrefutable proof that this is a hoax
Please share this. I am so irritated. We should be doing better than this!
http://www.iparentingcanada.com/articles/toddlers/living-next-door-to-batman-1951/
Toddlers and Imaginary Friends
By Wendy Kelly
My son and I start our day in a fairly boring fashion. We wake up, let the gorillas out, have breakfast and are invited to join our neighbors on a walk. As we approach the group, my son asks me if Batman will be joining us. As it turns out, 4-year-old Ted* is himself today, so Batman doesn’t make an appearance.
And we are fairly normal.
About 30 percent of North American children have an imaginary companion — and for boys to create animals or to actually “become” the imaginary companion is common.
Typically, a child will create a companion for himself starting at age 2, but children as young as 18 months will begin to pretend, using a block as a cookie or miming drinking from a cup.
It was once believed that children with imaginary companions were abnormal, insecure, shy. This misinformation came about in part because past studies used “problem” children as a control group — in one study done in the 1940s, the children interviewed were patients on the Children’s Ward of Bellevue Psychiatric Hospital. Is it any wonder, then, that negative reasons emerged for the friend’s appearance?
But even as children with imaginary friends were condemned, they also were believed to be more intelligent than average. Both studies have since been debunked: Children with robust imaginations tend to be more outgoing than their less-imaginative peers, and differences in intelligence levels are small enough to be insignificant.
In our case, gorillas first appeared when our son first understood that we would have a new baby in the house. And after he began grappling with toilet training, monkeys — ones who pooped on the floor — appeared out of nowhere. This is fairly normal. First or only children will often create a friend when they need one. These are usually social children who are happy to create a playmate when a real one is unavailable.
Down the street, Batman sometimes shows up. Other times, it’s Captain Hook or Spiderman. Four-year-old Ted becomes his characters so convincingly that he will not break character for an entire play date. My son often asks with whom we are going to play or if Batman will be there today.
Most toddlers believe in Santa Claus and have trouble distinguishing fantasy from reality on television. As one young child explained when asked about characters on Sesame Street: “I know that Big Bird isn’t real. That’s just a costume. There’s just a plain bird inside.” But when it comes to their own pretend play, toddlers are surprisingly adept at flipping in and out of fantasy and reality.
One young boy had an elaborate pretend farm. When he overheard a group of his parents’ friends talking about his farm, he whispered to his father: “Tell them it isn’t a real farm.”
In her research, Taylor has often encountered a child who helps the interviewer out by saying: “It’s just pretend, you know,” or, “She isn’t real.” Children have the ability to recognize the imaginary companion for what it is, according to Taylor, because it is “a private act of fantasy controlled by the child him or herself.” We create cultural myths for the child and reinforce their reality at every possible turn: We leave out cookies for Santa, write notes from the Tooth Fairy and make up elaborate schemes about how the Easter Bunny lays eggs.
But imaginary companions are totally of the child’s making, and children know exactly what they are doing.
And that is the experience I have had with my neighbor and my son. Even though my son addresses our neighbor as Batman or Spiderman and plays along with him, he is completely aware that he is playing with Ted. That is not to say that things can’t get carried away. Even as adults, we know a scary movie is make believe, but we are afraid anyway. In the same way, imaginary companions can be dear friends — or scary, intimidating bullies.
Taylor relates a story of a child with an imaginary companion named Shark. Sometimes Shark was friendly, but Shark could be nasty as well and scared the little boy who imagined him. The solution was for the mother to have a talk with Shark as if he were real.
When my son came running upstairs one night calling out in a frightened voice: “Monkeys and gorillas mommy! There are monkeys and gorillas downstairs!” I decided to simply play along, and I quickly adopted a rule that all friends, imaginary or not, had to abide by the same rules in our house. “Did you invite them?” I asked. “Yes,” he replied. “Are they being polite?” I asked. “No,” he answered, thoughtfully. “Well then, maybe it’s time for them to go home,” I said, and we marched downstairs where I proceeded to ask, forcefully, for these unwanted “friends” to go home. It worked, and now I can occasionally hear my son asking his “friends” to go home when they are not being friendly.
Another toddler Taylor encountered had an imaginary sick bunny. The sick bunny had to be looked after, and so the child would not accompany the family on outings. Taylor suggested creating a nurse bunny to look after sick bunny. The parents did this, and it worked! As long as the bunny was taken care of, the child could leave.
At our home, all is well. We occasionally have stampeding horses run from the dining room to the living room. The gorillas continue to sleep with my husband and me, taking the idea of a family bed to new heights. A goose lives outdoors in the dirt. And the monkeys are still welcome.
As long as they clean up after themselves.
And we are fairly normal.
