The school year will be over soon and my two young boarders (the girls having left end of December) will soon be off in their different directions. I will miss G very much -- he's been a huge help, a dear soul, good-humored, taking initiatives to help clean, chop wood, mow the lawn, burn the garden clippings, etc., Truly, a lovely young man. Next year he'll be entering the Compangnons -- the modern day cathedral artisans' guild to become a master carpenter.
But, for our other young man? Well, I've the feeling he's burning bridges as fast as he might. He made an effort at different times this year to get along, to be helpful, etc., but, apparently, it was always an effort. And now, that effort is finished with. We've clashed strongly twice in two weeks now. Monday evening is not a good time for us.
Last week he freaked because I'd permitted G to use his bicycle when G's was out of service. In retaliation, he let the air out of both tires and would have happily left G stranded at school in such a state. G managed to get the tires pumped up and came home on said bicycle, but I didn't see him before I saw M and gave him a serious piece of my mind. How could he be so obscenely selfish and petty? Oh I went into a litany of things, that he uses all my affairs, that we live in a community, that it had been a necessary loan, etc., He got upset, slammed his door and hid out in his room.
And tonight it was over being helpful and giving me a hand cleaning the house this weekend. He simply hadn't felt like it... (I'd left him to be with clients, but had specifically asked that he vacuum and mop the kitchen and the stairwell).
I'm afraid that if anything makes me more berzerk it's selfish and petty behavior. My kids know that it's just not permitted, it's just not acceptable, it's repulsive and to be banished, it's... well, you get the picture. To put it simply, Jonas plays with Leo's toys, and vice versa, ditto for bicycles, and most everything else in this house. And both my boys were roped in to help clean the garden, the pool, and now the whole house for the renters. This is just how life is. You help when your help is needed and requested and you put aside your petty preferences till the job is done. Life is not a 24 hour party. (or only if you make it so by loving and helping and being delightful).
So, I'm afraid, zen as I try to be, accepting and adapting as I've tried to be... I must admit that I'll say good riddance when at last this child doesn't share our home. Sometimes, it just isn't meant to be. I hope, I trust, we all learned something this year about coping and getting along when your personalities just don't fit, but... it's time for the lesson to be over. Though, before he goes, there's a little remaining task -- I insist that his room be as it was when he arrived: immaculate. Either he, or his mother, take their pick.
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
Showing posts with label boys. Show all posts
Monday, June 14, 2010
Monday, May 24, 2010
An Evening on the Town with the Boys
I've not often taken my boys out to town with a destination in mind that is far more adult than child-oriented. In the old days either the kids stayed with the aupairs, or we simply didn't go out (far more the latter). And in recent years I went out with JP, but rarely during the week with the boys. Or, dropped them off at a film while we went dancing, or set them up with a film at home, or sent them to a friend's house, or...
If I took them out, it was to the local pizzeria that they love, or to a film for them, or to a friend's house with kids. But, have them tag along to an event that interests me and not themselves particularly? No, I've rarely done that. And, so, I pay the price.
They're not accustomed to being "trimbalés" (sp?) all over the place. They're not easy. They don't make do with grace, tolerance and patience. They make their boredom known.
But, I would not back down. If not before, than from this moment forth, they need to learn (particularly Leo) that not every minute of the day is orchestrated for his benefit. Sometimes, you do something to please another. Sometimes you go along and make the best of it because someone else wants to do this. Sometimes, you just keep your mouth shut and be. Yes, I did get a wee bit spiritual and discussed living in the present, the now, where you're at when you're there... But hey, the words of Eckhart Tolle are in my head.
The evening wasn't a total loss. The small trio in the Rue des Teinturiers was excellent. We enjoyed 'un verre' each (a glass of rosé for me, orangina for them), sat on the wall and watched the world walk by. However, the moments spent at the Guingette of the Bal des Teinturiers were painful for me (due to their complaints) and them (they're not fans of Serge Gainsburg covered by a local band with the requisite accordion player).
Perhaps the next outing will go better?
If I took them out, it was to the local pizzeria that they love, or to a film for them, or to a friend's house with kids. But, have them tag along to an event that interests me and not themselves particularly? No, I've rarely done that. And, so, I pay the price.
They're not accustomed to being "trimbalés" (sp?) all over the place. They're not easy. They don't make do with grace, tolerance and patience. They make their boredom known.
But, I would not back down. If not before, than from this moment forth, they need to learn (particularly Leo) that not every minute of the day is orchestrated for his benefit. Sometimes, you do something to please another. Sometimes you go along and make the best of it because someone else wants to do this. Sometimes, you just keep your mouth shut and be. Yes, I did get a wee bit spiritual and discussed living in the present, the now, where you're at when you're there... But hey, the words of Eckhart Tolle are in my head.
The evening wasn't a total loss. The small trio in the Rue des Teinturiers was excellent. We enjoyed 'un verre' each (a glass of rosé for me, orangina for them), sat on the wall and watched the world walk by. However, the moments spent at the Guingette of the Bal des Teinturiers were painful for me (due to their complaints) and them (they're not fans of Serge Gainsburg covered by a local band with the requisite accordion player).
Perhaps the next outing will go better?
Saturday, May 1, 2010
Looking Back
I've been writing this blog now since February 2009. Not that long, and yet, well over a year. I re-read my posts from April last year, to get a sense of continuity and space. I've never been much of a journal-keeper, and thus it is a new sensation to have so much personal information available to myself about myself... if that makes sense?
So much I lived then I continued to live throughout this year. But there've been changes. I am no longer so worried about my boys. Last year I was intensely aware of my need to get them on track, of my need to be there, of an urgency in repairing some of the unintended damage that years of working very long hours and foisting them on au pairs had wreaked.
And now, that seems like a distant dream. Leo is reading, handling his homework with relative ease (and some nudging from me). He's seeing a writing therapist weekly to improve his grammar and handwriting. Jonas is happily back in his own bed (he shared mine throughout the winter, but seeing as I kept the house super cold, you could say it was as much for shared body warmth as any affective need on his part), in his own room, strong, independent, yet still very affectionate and eager for me to read to him at night. The bickering has calmed down (who would'a thought?). The house is truly quite peaceful. I feel that my boys have gained a solidity, a firmness in themselves. They are present, verbal, communicative, relatively and mostly willing to help me. They understand me, they know me, they work with me. I'm theirs, and we are a very tight family.
When the boys went off for a 'colonie de vacances' for a week during spring break, they became closer. Leo included and protected Jonas. Jonas looked up to and easily kept up with Leo. Apparently Leo even helped carry Jonas when he had a bit of the stomach flu one day.
Mealtimes are lovely. I no longer need to fetch a child out from under the table, nor do I much need to badger about eating/tasting various food groups, and basic table rules have been absorbed. It's 'acquis'. The daily expectations of house chores, rules, etc., are part of them. No more surprises.
Leo and I no longer have our late evening chats as he is happily reading in bed -- devouring Eragon and Harry Potter and various other marvelous reads. But we are making up for this in the front seat of the car as we go to school. The urge to communicate, share, learn is very present in him. And as no topic is off-limits for me, he is free to do so and takes advantage of his most loquacious mom.
In a week I'll begin working lots again. I'm quite booked with culinary and artisans tours this season, and it will be okay. I've a new neighbor whose kids are in the school, and we'll be going over my schedule to see how he can help me. My kids can easily be at home alone now. They eat their snacks, clean up after themselves, carefully lock the door if they leave for a bike ride... They know the routine. We've moved onto another stage of our lives together.
What a difference a year can make.
So much I lived then I continued to live throughout this year. But there've been changes. I am no longer so worried about my boys. Last year I was intensely aware of my need to get them on track, of my need to be there, of an urgency in repairing some of the unintended damage that years of working very long hours and foisting them on au pairs had wreaked.
And now, that seems like a distant dream. Leo is reading, handling his homework with relative ease (and some nudging from me). He's seeing a writing therapist weekly to improve his grammar and handwriting. Jonas is happily back in his own bed (he shared mine throughout the winter, but seeing as I kept the house super cold, you could say it was as much for shared body warmth as any affective need on his part), in his own room, strong, independent, yet still very affectionate and eager for me to read to him at night. The bickering has calmed down (who would'a thought?). The house is truly quite peaceful. I feel that my boys have gained a solidity, a firmness in themselves. They are present, verbal, communicative, relatively and mostly willing to help me. They understand me, they know me, they work with me. I'm theirs, and we are a very tight family.
When the boys went off for a 'colonie de vacances' for a week during spring break, they became closer. Leo included and protected Jonas. Jonas looked up to and easily kept up with Leo. Apparently Leo even helped carry Jonas when he had a bit of the stomach flu one day.
Mealtimes are lovely. I no longer need to fetch a child out from under the table, nor do I much need to badger about eating/tasting various food groups, and basic table rules have been absorbed. It's 'acquis'. The daily expectations of house chores, rules, etc., are part of them. No more surprises.
Leo and I no longer have our late evening chats as he is happily reading in bed -- devouring Eragon and Harry Potter and various other marvelous reads. But we are making up for this in the front seat of the car as we go to school. The urge to communicate, share, learn is very present in him. And as no topic is off-limits for me, he is free to do so and takes advantage of his most loquacious mom.
In a week I'll begin working lots again. I'm quite booked with culinary and artisans tours this season, and it will be okay. I've a new neighbor whose kids are in the school, and we'll be going over my schedule to see how he can help me. My kids can easily be at home alone now. They eat their snacks, clean up after themselves, carefully lock the door if they leave for a bike ride... They know the routine. We've moved onto another stage of our lives together.
What a difference a year can make.
Tuesday, February 9, 2010
Crêpes and Such
As I browse amongst my friends' blogs on France I realize I neglected to mention la Chandeleur, or the mid-winter celebration marking the slow return of the sun. It is always fêted with piles of crêpes.
As I do my research into this celebration, I learn its pagan and Celtic roots: amidst the many references of Latin and Roman times, is one to a Northern European tradition of chandelours, or the equivalent of the American groundhog day but in favor of watching the behavior of the bear as he creeps out from hibernation as an indicator of the length of winter, ours meaning bear. The imagery is rather marvelous, no?
Then there is the day of Brigid or Imbolc the 1st of February, linked to the Celts, and a day of candles, or chandelles, bringing purification and fertility to the land before the spring plantings.
As generally happened, the Christian church chose the dates already on the celebration calendar to position a festival of their choosing. In this case it became the day to mark Jesus' presentation at the Temple, and the purification of the Virgin Mary. Thus, the use of blessed candels is approved, and all is made right. He who brings a lit candle all the way home from church without it being snuffed out by the cold wind will not die this year.
Celui qui la rapporte chez lui allumée
Pour sûr ne mourra pas dans l’année
However, those crêpes which persist as the layman's symbol are rich in imagery: the round disk of the sun, the golden possibilities of a good harvest, lay away the first made and the year will be bountiful, flip it with your right hand with agility and perfection while holding a gold piece in your left and your luck will be assured throughout the year...
As does still happen on occasion, my American roots overwhelm my French persona and I am more in tune to Presidents' Day and the fall Jewish holidays (I am a former New Yorker) than to the French holiday calendar. And so, it was my children who announced to me as we drove home from school on February 2 that it was crêpe day and thus my other offers of other snackfoods were swept from the table.
Happily, these children are pre-teens and children of cooks all, thus with but a bit of guidance from me (I made the pâte à crêpe, batter, and cut it with water as I really didn't want to see all the milk I'd just gotten at the farm Sunday be used up by Tuesday afternoon!)they attacked the project with gusto.
I also suggested -- remembering a past crêpe event this fall -- that they put their small ladelful of batter in the pan, swirl and then pour out the extra into the mixing bowl, to ensure thin crêpes, even if this method leaves a bit of a tail on the crêpe.
Stacks of crêpes were made for their afternoon snack. But then, it didn't stop there. Carnival was slated for Thursday at school and the older classes were to bring in ten crêpes each as their contribution (for Jonas' class the request was fruit juice and home made cakes). Thus the project was repeated Wednesday night.
Being the mom I am... I was fine with them cooking and using all my utensils, but... I draw the line at being the clean-up slave. With more than a bit of nudging, I was able to get them to clean up the stove top of cooked-on drips, and their pans, bowls, whisks, spatulas, etc., The floor was my job. No one's perfect.
And as I do so, I remember the canon about the Jour de Chandeleur that we sang during my Steiner/Waldorf training... if only I could grasp than the first line in my head.
Our crêpe batter for a very large pile:
La Pâte à Crêpe
3 eggs
enough flour whisked in to make a paste
1/4 cup of water whisked in to thin the paste
more flour till thick again
milk slowly whisked in till thinned to a batter texture
now switch to water and keep adding till you've a light cream texture
a pinch of salt
1 tablespoon of sugar
and optionally: a 1/4 teaspoon vanilla or a scrape of a vanilla bean
Ideally you have a short sided crêpe pan, but if not, a non-stick frying pan will do. We do rub it with a bit of butter on a paper towl nonetheless, get it hot and pour in a ladel of batter. Swirl around to cover the bottom and pour out the excess. With practice you'll get the size of your ladelful just right and no longer need to pour out the excess, improving the overall look of your crêpe.
Cook till it starts to bubble up with air from below, flip with style or with a spatula. Let cook a couple seconds on the reverse side and flip out onto a plate. Continue.
As I do my research into this celebration, I learn its pagan and Celtic roots: amidst the many references of Latin and Roman times, is one to a Northern European tradition of chandelours, or the equivalent of the American groundhog day but in favor of watching the behavior of the bear as he creeps out from hibernation as an indicator of the length of winter, ours meaning bear. The imagery is rather marvelous, no?
Then there is the day of Brigid or Imbolc the 1st of February, linked to the Celts, and a day of candles, or chandelles, bringing purification and fertility to the land before the spring plantings.
As generally happened, the Christian church chose the dates already on the celebration calendar to position a festival of their choosing. In this case it became the day to mark Jesus' presentation at the Temple, and the purification of the Virgin Mary. Thus, the use of blessed candels is approved, and all is made right. He who brings a lit candle all the way home from church without it being snuffed out by the cold wind will not die this year.
Celui qui la rapporte chez lui allumée
Pour sûr ne mourra pas dans l’année
However, those crêpes which persist as the layman's symbol are rich in imagery: the round disk of the sun, the golden possibilities of a good harvest, lay away the first made and the year will be bountiful, flip it with your right hand with agility and perfection while holding a gold piece in your left and your luck will be assured throughout the year...
As does still happen on occasion, my American roots overwhelm my French persona and I am more in tune to Presidents' Day and the fall Jewish holidays (I am a former New Yorker) than to the French holiday calendar. And so, it was my children who announced to me as we drove home from school on February 2 that it was crêpe day and thus my other offers of other snackfoods were swept from the table.
Happily, these children are pre-teens and children of cooks all, thus with but a bit of guidance from me (I made the pâte à crêpe, batter, and cut it with water as I really didn't want to see all the milk I'd just gotten at the farm Sunday be used up by Tuesday afternoon!)they attacked the project with gusto.
I also suggested -- remembering a past crêpe event this fall -- that they put their small ladelful of batter in the pan, swirl and then pour out the extra into the mixing bowl, to ensure thin crêpes, even if this method leaves a bit of a tail on the crêpe.
Stacks of crêpes were made for their afternoon snack. But then, it didn't stop there. Carnival was slated for Thursday at school and the older classes were to bring in ten crêpes each as their contribution (for Jonas' class the request was fruit juice and home made cakes). Thus the project was repeated Wednesday night.
Being the mom I am... I was fine with them cooking and using all my utensils, but... I draw the line at being the clean-up slave. With more than a bit of nudging, I was able to get them to clean up the stove top of cooked-on drips, and their pans, bowls, whisks, spatulas, etc., The floor was my job. No one's perfect.
And as I do so, I remember the canon about the Jour de Chandeleur that we sang during my Steiner/Waldorf training... if only I could grasp than the first line in my head.
Our crêpe batter for a very large pile:
La Pâte à Crêpe
3 eggs
enough flour whisked in to make a paste
1/4 cup of water whisked in to thin the paste
more flour till thick again
milk slowly whisked in till thinned to a batter texture
now switch to water and keep adding till you've a light cream texture
a pinch of salt
1 tablespoon of sugar
and optionally: a 1/4 teaspoon vanilla or a scrape of a vanilla bean
Ideally you have a short sided crêpe pan, but if not, a non-stick frying pan will do. We do rub it with a bit of butter on a paper towl nonetheless, get it hot and pour in a ladel of batter. Swirl around to cover the bottom and pour out the excess. With practice you'll get the size of your ladelful just right and no longer need to pour out the excess, improving the overall look of your crêpe.
Cook till it starts to bubble up with air from below, flip with style or with a spatula. Let cook a couple seconds on the reverse side and flip out onto a plate. Continue.
Saturday, February 6, 2010
A reorganized household
Just before Christmas it was mutually decided that my pre-teen girls would return to their parents' homes during the week, newly able to carpool with neighbors. I am thus now a den mother to four boys, rather than to six pre-teens. It all got shuffled around. At first we were a bit dismayed and out of sorts, but very quickly a new balance of personalities and personal needs fell into place. For the moment, the girls have not been replaced, and, it's turning out to be a blessing in disguise.
Leo and Mael -- our two that had been paying court to our 13 year old girl, and who'd often had their feelings toyed with by her -- have now joined forces. Leo came down from his shared room with Jonas, and Mael came up from his shared room with Gaetan, and now they share what had been the girls' room (and before that my living room, but that's ancient history at this point).
With two fewer bodies in the house, the raucus games of hide and seek have dissipated, to be replaced with far more card games, juggling, more attention to homework, and miracle of miracles, night-time reading! At least for Leo and Mael. Gaetan is just not a reader, but he has enough homework to keep him up till late at night.
My internat de garçons, boys' boarding house, is remarkably calm, free of spats and -- dare I say it? shall I jinx myself? -- relaxing.
I spent the fall in an intense tither, coping with the multiple personalities, clashes, snits, spats, mini-explosions, petulant appetites and crises emotionnelles. Too many Saturday afternoons were spent simply exhausted, sleeping as long as I was permitted (three hours was perfect) to simply recuperate from the effort.
And now? Well, I've fewer funds. The girls' boarding fees were going directly to pay my boys' school fees. Thus with these no longer coming in, I'll be scrounging a bit more than I would have liked. But I have much more head time to myself, time to contemplate getting that part-time job, time to write, and, with this new constellation of bodies, I can even go out an evening during the week and know they'll be okay.
I guess I should just accept that I'm a mom of boys. Having not had my little girl, I'm not too experienced on that front. Interesting.
Leo and Mael -- our two that had been paying court to our 13 year old girl, and who'd often had their feelings toyed with by her -- have now joined forces. Leo came down from his shared room with Jonas, and Mael came up from his shared room with Gaetan, and now they share what had been the girls' room (and before that my living room, but that's ancient history at this point).
With two fewer bodies in the house, the raucus games of hide and seek have dissipated, to be replaced with far more card games, juggling, more attention to homework, and miracle of miracles, night-time reading! At least for Leo and Mael. Gaetan is just not a reader, but he has enough homework to keep him up till late at night.
My internat de garçons, boys' boarding house, is remarkably calm, free of spats and -- dare I say it? shall I jinx myself? -- relaxing.
I spent the fall in an intense tither, coping with the multiple personalities, clashes, snits, spats, mini-explosions, petulant appetites and crises emotionnelles. Too many Saturday afternoons were spent simply exhausted, sleeping as long as I was permitted (three hours was perfect) to simply recuperate from the effort.
And now? Well, I've fewer funds. The girls' boarding fees were going directly to pay my boys' school fees. Thus with these no longer coming in, I'll be scrounging a bit more than I would have liked. But I have much more head time to myself, time to contemplate getting that part-time job, time to write, and, with this new constellation of bodies, I can even go out an evening during the week and know they'll be okay.
I guess I should just accept that I'm a mom of boys. Having not had my little girl, I'm not too experienced on that front. Interesting.
Sunday, December 6, 2009
Three mellow pre-teen boys
Life could be a lot worse that cozying up to a nice warm fire early winter. Hm? Ah, the lack of complications when dealing with boys... broken furniture and/or doors occasionally yes, but hissy fits, no. This was a rare girl-less evening when we just enjoyed dinner, chatted, laughed, built up the fire, and just hung out.
Sunday, September 6, 2009
Growing up so fast
Leo had a very adolescent evening the other night. Not only is he a very tall twelve, growing facial hair and sky-rocketing towards the sky, he is growing ever more serious and sensitive. I do believe there will be unforeseen side effects to my hosting a young boy six months Leo' senior (yet a head shorter) and a tall and delightful fourteen year old girl. Hormones are surging.
Post-shower, hair wet and draping ever so tantalizingly over his eyes, elegant jeans, and a half-way unbuttoned white oxford on his summer tanned skin. Whoa... this is my little boy who was climbing trees, leaping in the water and scarfing down brownies this summer? Yes, I'm his mom, but he was darn gorgeous as he showed off terribly for the benefit of our young teenage female boarders.
And, his haunches up (is that the phrase?) he was in a cocky mood: Not the best preparation for a calm session of everyone reading a paragraph each of Gulliver's travels. As we've done most evenings this week, me and my charges strew about my bed with an abbreviated version of Gulliver, highlighting his visit amongst the Lilliputians. After one turn each, Jonas looked up at me and begged that I read him a book in his room before he fell asleep atop me in mine. Thinking the group relatively stable, I went off with Jonas, leaving them to continue reading.
I hadn't taken into account male dominance theory. Leo may be bigger physically, but Mael is older by six months and quite a strong and defiant character. He also is very physical and with minimal limits imposed upon him to this point apparently. So, as I understand it, Mael teased our little eleven-year old, pinning down her arm, tickling perhaps. Leo leaped to her defense, thinking to be able to manhandle Mael off of her and by his larger size, put him in his place. But, tall though he is, Leo is not a creative fighter (as they would say here, il n'est pas trop malin). Mael easily used a manoeuvre or two with elbow and knee, winding Leo with a blow to the chest, and freed himself.
In five minutes, Leo's pride, view of the world, sense of moral order, and more were touched, and deeply. He was so riled up he was not going to sleep, and adamantly so. I spent a moment with him, gathering information and trying to figure out went had gone so very wrong in my brief absence. Then I descended to speak with both Mael and Maeva. Basically, I communicated a new house rule. No physical teasing and wrestling. We simply are not going to play the game of who's stronger and who's quicker and who's more slippery. And, no touching the others. Permit and respect the imaginary cushion of air around each person. We live in a house that protects and cares for, not one where battles for dominance are going to take place. Maeva was reassured. Mael, no doubt, thought I was over-reacting.
And yes, perhaps I was. Growing up as the younger sister to a much bigger brother I was often a punching ball, tickling receiver, wrestling hold practice bag, you name it, for my older brother. I survived, more or less. And he was assured of his physical superiority and myself of my absolute weakness in the face of such. At one point (or a few times no doubt), I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to break his hold, break him, and if only by breaking his ear-drums establish my own level of strength and power. No luck. I never did get out my finger nails, nor did I bite (something Jonas was once--no longer, gratefully--particularly adept at). And, I have no regrets on this point. I'm not normally a physically violent individual, and it was only the incredibly frustrating sense of being over-powered that brought it to such a pitch.
Perhaps I'm over-protecting, but I would rather prefer to limit this sort of behavior in my home, particularly as these are not siblings, but live-in guests.
I went back up to Leo after my discussions, hoping he'd have calmed down. But far from it. I spent the next hour by his side, listening, communicating, searching, and observing that my little boy is hitting those intense peaks of emotion and sensation that adolescence too often promises. The anguish, the hurt pride, the frustration, the anger, were all roiling in him pushing sleep away. Not before midnight was he finally willing to turn out his light.
The next morning wasn't a whole lot better (over and past are the days of thirty minute sulks?), but thank goodness, by the time I picked them all up at 4pm, the boys were not only talking but sharing their interest in music again. Phew! Crisis averted. For now.
Post-shower, hair wet and draping ever so tantalizingly over his eyes, elegant jeans, and a half-way unbuttoned white oxford on his summer tanned skin. Whoa... this is my little boy who was climbing trees, leaping in the water and scarfing down brownies this summer? Yes, I'm his mom, but he was darn gorgeous as he showed off terribly for the benefit of our young teenage female boarders.
And, his haunches up (is that the phrase?) he was in a cocky mood: Not the best preparation for a calm session of everyone reading a paragraph each of Gulliver's travels. As we've done most evenings this week, me and my charges strew about my bed with an abbreviated version of Gulliver, highlighting his visit amongst the Lilliputians. After one turn each, Jonas looked up at me and begged that I read him a book in his room before he fell asleep atop me in mine. Thinking the group relatively stable, I went off with Jonas, leaving them to continue reading.
I hadn't taken into account male dominance theory. Leo may be bigger physically, but Mael is older by six months and quite a strong and defiant character. He also is very physical and with minimal limits imposed upon him to this point apparently. So, as I understand it, Mael teased our little eleven-year old, pinning down her arm, tickling perhaps. Leo leaped to her defense, thinking to be able to manhandle Mael off of her and by his larger size, put him in his place. But, tall though he is, Leo is not a creative fighter (as they would say here, il n'est pas trop malin). Mael easily used a manoeuvre or two with elbow and knee, winding Leo with a blow to the chest, and freed himself.
In five minutes, Leo's pride, view of the world, sense of moral order, and more were touched, and deeply. He was so riled up he was not going to sleep, and adamantly so. I spent a moment with him, gathering information and trying to figure out went had gone so very wrong in my brief absence. Then I descended to speak with both Mael and Maeva. Basically, I communicated a new house rule. No physical teasing and wrestling. We simply are not going to play the game of who's stronger and who's quicker and who's more slippery. And, no touching the others. Permit and respect the imaginary cushion of air around each person. We live in a house that protects and cares for, not one where battles for dominance are going to take place. Maeva was reassured. Mael, no doubt, thought I was over-reacting.
And yes, perhaps I was. Growing up as the younger sister to a much bigger brother I was often a punching ball, tickling receiver, wrestling hold practice bag, you name it, for my older brother. I survived, more or less. And he was assured of his physical superiority and myself of my absolute weakness in the face of such. At one point (or a few times no doubt), I screamed at the top of my lungs, trying to break his hold, break him, and if only by breaking his ear-drums establish my own level of strength and power. No luck. I never did get out my finger nails, nor did I bite (something Jonas was once--no longer, gratefully--particularly adept at). And, I have no regrets on this point. I'm not normally a physically violent individual, and it was only the incredibly frustrating sense of being over-powered that brought it to such a pitch.
Perhaps I'm over-protecting, but I would rather prefer to limit this sort of behavior in my home, particularly as these are not siblings, but live-in guests.
I went back up to Leo after my discussions, hoping he'd have calmed down. But far from it. I spent the next hour by his side, listening, communicating, searching, and observing that my little boy is hitting those intense peaks of emotion and sensation that adolescence too often promises. The anguish, the hurt pride, the frustration, the anger, were all roiling in him pushing sleep away. Not before midnight was he finally willing to turn out his light.
The next morning wasn't a whole lot better (over and past are the days of thirty minute sulks?), but thank goodness, by the time I picked them all up at 4pm, the boys were not only talking but sharing their interest in music again. Phew! Crisis averted. For now.
Monday, July 6, 2009
A difficult moment with my elder son
There is a constant I suppose when you've two children (or more I'm sure) that they will bicker and this will drive you crazy, or not, depending on your achievements in the world of zen meditation and your state of sleep-deprivation. Sunday morning we were up at five. I came to pick the boys up at their father's at six to head to the TGV station in Avignon. It's an easy drive, and they, being so eager to see Gramma and their cousins, were ready to leap into the car -- is this why we forgot to double check to see if they'd packed their tooth brushes and bathing suits? In any case, it was an easy trip, at least the first forty-five minutes of it. Leo babbled to me about his week, and Jonas piped up a bit as well. Leo had had a glorious time at the beach with friends and Jonas had watched oodles of TV -- what's new? Neither had put a brush to their teeth since I'd last seen them Friday morning at school eight days earlier. I dared not ask about baths.
Before getting in the train, it began. I offered the two of them each a book for their trip, and Leo, rather than looking at his, pushed it aside and wanted to read his brother's. Ticked off that Jonas preferred to look at the images of his book than to have his brother read the text to him, he sulked, tried to rip the book out of his hands, and sulked some more.
"Leo, remember when you were little? you liked looking at the pictures too and figuring out the story yourself. Why not let Jonas do so? then afterwards you can read the text to him."
"But I didn't have a big brother to read to me, so he should let me read to him."
hm, touché, yet how to explain that it was a good thing that his brain learned to decipher imagery and create his own imaginary tale? That the text is great, but not necessary?
Onwards. In the train, I was able to avert immediate melt-down by reading a magic treehouse book to Jonas. This one was on the Civil War. These books are simply marvelous and as a family we are devouring them. Leo enjoys listening in when I read to Jonas -- occasionally replacing me if I'm unable to finish a book --, and he learns perhaps even more than his brother. Being raised in France, the American Civil War, our history of slavery, the realities of that brutal time is completely foreign to them.
An hour later, book finished, the early rising starting to weigh upon us all, I suggested to Leo that I read him some of the new book I'd offered him. Not particularly interested, he permitted me to, but wasn't into it. And not being into it, and having his brother right in front of him, the bickering and teasing and toe stabbing and kicking, etc., etc., began.
Jonas has that classic younger kid way of putting up with just about anything and not complaining. Go ahead Leo, twist my foot, step on it, push back my toes, that doesn't hurt. (I remember something of the same between me and my older brother...). Leo pushed harder, twisted harder, and then when there was no reaction forthcoming, went to give him a kick in his privates. OK, time to intervene, that's enough. But nothing I say seems to work -- cajoling, threatening, nudging, distracting, menacing. I switched seats, and at last they shifted to a game of cards. From that point till our arrival at our destination (a not quite four hour ride), they managed to stay somewhat well-behaved.
But once there, it started again. And of course, it is two-ways. Jonas provokes, Leo reacts. Leo hits, Jonas hits back. The middle finger is pointed, hair is pulled, bags are dumped, kicks are given, insults spoken... des gros mots en profusion.
And here, I lose it. It's noon, we've been up since 5, I'm tired, they're behaving abominably, and I return to my mantra: "Leo, the strong one learns not to react, to ignore, to let pass the insults and provocation. The strong are above all this. A strong horse simply lays back his ears, bears his teeth and stares down his opponent. He doesn't need to kick and bite. To be strong, you need to be above all this, learn to control your reactions. Or otherwise, it is your little obnoxious brother who is the stronger."
For Leo, nothing could be harder. How can he ignore an insult? How to not react? It's impossible. He has to get in the last hit, tap, or insult. It is his right as the elder, he must, or where goeth his pride?
"No, when you are reacting on the fly like this you are putty in the hands of your opponents, you are the weaker, you must get control of your emotions..." I'm getting a bit carried away, and then, I say the unforgivable, "if your father had learned to control his emotions -- it's called being politique -- things wouldn't be so difficult right now for him."
Ok, where did that come from? Perhaps the letter from his lawyer yesterday morning? and our rather tense discussion about it at 6AM? Why spew that at Leo?
And I got what I deserved: Out of the mouth of my babe, "it's your fault, you left Daddy, you spent too much money to buy the Avignon house. We wouldn't have so many problems if you'd stayed with Daddy."
Ouch.
The screens on the back of the airplane seats will change the images in their heads long before they arrive in the US. But, for me, it will resonate, and the truth of what Leo thinks and feels is there to consider, and, somehow, deal with.
Before getting in the train, it began. I offered the two of them each a book for their trip, and Leo, rather than looking at his, pushed it aside and wanted to read his brother's. Ticked off that Jonas preferred to look at the images of his book than to have his brother read the text to him, he sulked, tried to rip the book out of his hands, and sulked some more.
"Leo, remember when you were little? you liked looking at the pictures too and figuring out the story yourself. Why not let Jonas do so? then afterwards you can read the text to him."
"But I didn't have a big brother to read to me, so he should let me read to him."
hm, touché, yet how to explain that it was a good thing that his brain learned to decipher imagery and create his own imaginary tale? That the text is great, but not necessary?
Onwards. In the train, I was able to avert immediate melt-down by reading a magic treehouse book to Jonas. This one was on the Civil War. These books are simply marvelous and as a family we are devouring them. Leo enjoys listening in when I read to Jonas -- occasionally replacing me if I'm unable to finish a book --, and he learns perhaps even more than his brother. Being raised in France, the American Civil War, our history of slavery, the realities of that brutal time is completely foreign to them.
An hour later, book finished, the early rising starting to weigh upon us all, I suggested to Leo that I read him some of the new book I'd offered him. Not particularly interested, he permitted me to, but wasn't into it. And not being into it, and having his brother right in front of him, the bickering and teasing and toe stabbing and kicking, etc., etc., began.
Jonas has that classic younger kid way of putting up with just about anything and not complaining. Go ahead Leo, twist my foot, step on it, push back my toes, that doesn't hurt. (I remember something of the same between me and my older brother...). Leo pushed harder, twisted harder, and then when there was no reaction forthcoming, went to give him a kick in his privates. OK, time to intervene, that's enough. But nothing I say seems to work -- cajoling, threatening, nudging, distracting, menacing. I switched seats, and at last they shifted to a game of cards. From that point till our arrival at our destination (a not quite four hour ride), they managed to stay somewhat well-behaved.
But once there, it started again. And of course, it is two-ways. Jonas provokes, Leo reacts. Leo hits, Jonas hits back. The middle finger is pointed, hair is pulled, bags are dumped, kicks are given, insults spoken... des gros mots en profusion.
And here, I lose it. It's noon, we've been up since 5, I'm tired, they're behaving abominably, and I return to my mantra: "Leo, the strong one learns not to react, to ignore, to let pass the insults and provocation. The strong are above all this. A strong horse simply lays back his ears, bears his teeth and stares down his opponent. He doesn't need to kick and bite. To be strong, you need to be above all this, learn to control your reactions. Or otherwise, it is your little obnoxious brother who is the stronger."
For Leo, nothing could be harder. How can he ignore an insult? How to not react? It's impossible. He has to get in the last hit, tap, or insult. It is his right as the elder, he must, or where goeth his pride?
"No, when you are reacting on the fly like this you are putty in the hands of your opponents, you are the weaker, you must get control of your emotions..." I'm getting a bit carried away, and then, I say the unforgivable, "if your father had learned to control his emotions -- it's called being politique -- things wouldn't be so difficult right now for him."
Ok, where did that come from? Perhaps the letter from his lawyer yesterday morning? and our rather tense discussion about it at 6AM? Why spew that at Leo?
And I got what I deserved: Out of the mouth of my babe, "it's your fault, you left Daddy, you spent too much money to buy the Avignon house. We wouldn't have so many problems if you'd stayed with Daddy."
Ouch.
The screens on the back of the airplane seats will change the images in their heads long before they arrive in the US. But, for me, it will resonate, and the truth of what Leo thinks and feels is there to consider, and, somehow, deal with.
Thursday, July 2, 2009
Leo as Dieu Pan
For the first time in his school life, Leo received the honor of the lead role in the younger grades' end of year play. They were three in his class who raised their hands, asking the teacher for this honor. And he was chosen. He was thrilled. Unbeknownst to me, this play which is a yearly event now for the school, resonated in his heart and he'd hoped as he entered into his 5th year class this September, that he might, just might, have this role.
It is and was a big deal. Leo is not at the top of his class and he knows this. As the French put it, "il galère." We're working with writing and reading therapists to improve his grammar and spelling skills, and simply to assist him towards a fluidity in the act. He is quickly exhausted by writing, and has as yet not grasped the necessity, nor the true usefulness of this act. The time spent learning French grammar, writing, and more in class is for the time being, time wasted. Little seems to have entered his head. The parts of speech, and the families of rules (i.e. the adjective mauvais is akin to anglais is akin to français), that these go from masculine (mauvais) to feminine (mauvaise). In French there are ten different ways the sound "a" is written. However, each (é, ais, ait, ai, ée, er, et, è, ez, et) has its moment and its place. As a child, I simply memorized what I was taught, good little girl that I was. But oh how complicated this grammar stuff is! and spelling in both English and French is as much about history, linguistics and roots as about pronunciation. Culture is communicated when we learn to spell, and one who masters a written language is viewed as cultivated, educated. It is a separator of class, and mindless, frustrating, useless and more as it must seem to a child who actually thinks and reflects to learn this strange thing called grammar -- rather than obediently, unquestioningly learning as I did -- it could be that which impedes his ambitions later in life.
Leo is living this duality, this frustration. On the one hand ever so aware of the kids that do well in class, and on the other, wearied and quickly discouraged when he attempts the school work before him. And yet, he is one of the eldest of the class, and he tries so hard to be good. He is a protector, a leader at heart. This dichotomy is a struggle. What is it to succeed? What virtues do size and age convey? His best friend in class is a year younger, and at least a year ahead of him in reading fluency and writing.
And yet, he received this honor. An honor that, had he not been able to memorize the 40 lines of the play, he could have shared with another. But this idea was not for him. He would do the work necessary to memorize his lines, and he would be present at each rehearsal with each participating class. The first grade (in which his brother Jonas is) were gnomes, spirits of the earth.
The second grade played mosquitoes and frogs, there to awaken the summer spirits.
The third grade were the hot salamanders, there to warm the earth and encourage the plants to transform flowers to fruit.
The fourth grade were the spirits of the air, carrying seeds to new destinations.
And the fifth grade was divided into fauns (the boys) there to taunt man and stimulate him to better,
and ondines (the girls), the spirits of the water, there to moisten the earth.
Leo, as Dieu Pan, led them all, asking of each spirit what he or she had contributed to the earth, to life on this day of the St. Jean, the Solstice. He asked, he approved, he guided, he led. And with grace, he intoned, he scolded, he praised, and he went upon his way.
We were there, his father and I, ever so proud. And he looked to us, smiling shyly, happy, proud, and concentrated on his role. Oh, he fell out of character occasionally when he wasn't speaking, but he popped right back when he spoke his lines. The teachers of the school, who've known him, watched him, and discussed him (he's a favorite case) were impressed, proud, and as one put it, eager to watch him grow up. With such a moment of glory behind him, there will be great moments before him.
As his mom, I praised him, but I also reminded him that I was there to watch his little brother too. Yes, he has the lead, yes, it is a huge honor and I'm prouder than proud, but this is Jonas' first play, Jonas' first line, and Jonas' first act in the school tradition. I am ever so proud of them both, and there is enough to go around, truly. No need to insist that the lime light be his. It already is. But, graciously sharing it would be nice too, no? ... we're still working on it.
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