Proud Mama

It's been a while. I know. So, here I am – playing catch up once again. I have to warn you, there will be bragging involved. I'm feeling so proud of Jerry today. Not for anything in particular. I'm just proud because he is who he is. And because he knows himself so well. He has such maturity when it comes to understanding his feelings and expressing himself – it just blows me away.

See, Warren is officially unemployed now, which means he's home. Watching Jerry. And being a bit, uh, judgmental about how he spends his time. At least that's how it started out. A few nights ago there was yelling (by Jerry), arms were thrown up in annoyance and despair (by Warren) and the word "school" and the phrase "turn off the TV for good" were heard during a private conversation between Warren and I. Needless to say, I was a bit worried at how the rest of Warren's unemployment would effect our unschooling.

See, Warren totally gets the educational side of unschooling. It's the lifestyle part that throws him for a loop. Specifically, he doesn't want Jerry staying up until 3:30 a.m. and he doesn't want him spending all day on the couch in front of the television (computer on lap, DS in hand). And I totally get that. But, as we learned when I kept track of how we spend our days (Jerry and I) he doesn't sit on the couch all day. In fact, he takes part in a wide variety of activities. Sure, some weeks are less active than others, but, in general, the television watching happens late in the day and well into the night (and early hours of the morning) when there's not much else to do anyway. So yes, there's a lot of TV. And, no. It's not "educational." It's not even Mythbusters. He's watching the Disney Channel.

But he's watching with an eye toward figuring out relationships. I realized it last night during another one of our 1 a.m. discussions. He was asking me about boys I liked when I was his age and how old I was when I had my first boyfriend (Newsflash: Jerry's best friend, Jackson, has a girlfriend!!) and he started to mention all these things he'd learned on the cartoon Sixteen. They were all about relationships. And they were true. (Rule #1: Never break up by text message.) Anyway, it was pretty amazing to see that he really does get more than we guess out of the shows he watches.

One thing I love about our late night talks is that Jerry asks me all kinds of questions and he wonders aloud about things. "I wonder what it would feel like to have both arms and wings," he said late last night. He was trying to figure out the mechanics of it all. How would the wings extend? Where would they be when they rested? What would make them unfold?

The other day – a day or two after Warren and Jerry had their argument – Jerry called a family meeting. He wanted to talk about how he and Warren could get along better. He was amazing. So mature and well-spoken. They both said how they felt and talked about ways they could show respect and kindness to one another. Then they had a pillow fight.

I could go on, but it would probably get very boring. Lucky for you, Jerry's doing a Pokemon ROM hack and he needs my help. So I'm off.

P.S. Guess who's learning the binary and hexidecimal number systems? That's right! Me! More on the mind-blowing conversion from decimal to binary later....

How Much Responsibility Is Too Much?

One of the things I like about Radical Unschooling is the idea that kids learn from early on to deal with responsibility. They're given the freedom to make their own choices and have plenty of time to figure out what works and what doesn't before they leave the nest. When we started to unschool it didn't occur to me that we'd go Radical. I was thinking of it as an educational philosophy rather than a lifestyle choice. But as I learned more about the lifestyle, I began to take steps toward RU. I started saying "Yes!" more, which has included saying "Yes!" to letting Jerry have as much screen time as he wants and "Yes!" when he asks for sweets. He doesn't ask for sweets a lot but he does eat some sugar every day--which is more than he had when he was in school.

The other day Jerry surprised the heck out of me by saying, "Mom, I'm not going to eat sugar for the next three months." 

I was shocked. "Okay," I said. "Why?"

"Because," he said, "I was looking at myself in your mirror this morning and I have visibly gained weight."

Now this is true. He has a belly where he didn't have one before. I had noticed it too. I hadn't said anything to Jerry, of course, but I'd been trying to come up with a plan to get him eating fewer sweets and getting more exercise for a few weeks--without much luck.

I said I felt like I'd been eating too much sugar lately too (which is true) and would like to join him--we could do it together. Then I said that we should think of it as staying fit and healthy rather than trying to lose weight. I said part of staying fit is getting some physical activity and suggested we start taking Patsy (our dog) for a walk every day. He agreed. 

Then I panicked. I had handled the conversation all wrong by not emphasizing enough that I love him exactly how he is and that it's normal for kids his age to gain weight, so I threw that in at the end. 

If I were being graded I'd probably get a D.

But here's the thing. Now that he's told me he wants to lose the belly am I supposed to help him? And if so, what's the best way to go about it? I don't want to question him when he eats sugar. There's nothing more annoying than having someone question the foods you're about to put in your mouth. But, when I ask if he's ready to take Patsy for a walk and he says no and days go by and he hasn't done much more than sit on the couch or at his desk (which I cleaned off for him last week!) or at the kitchen table, am I supposed to remind him of his goal? I don't like the way that feels. Then it feels like it's my goal. But it isn't. My goal is for him to feel good about himself. I want him to be fit and healthy, yes. But, more than that, I want him to feel good.

If he's feeling down about his body (and he's not a chubby kid at all) how can I help him to feel better? Am I giving him too much responsibility by letting him choose to be so sedentary and by saying yes to sweets? Is it my choice to give him choices that's causing him, indirectly, to feel bad about his body? Or is this feeling bad just part of growing up? Is he just becoming more aware of his physical being and taking stock, so to speak, now that he's reached puberty?

I'm paralyzed. I'm afraid of saying or doing the wrong thing--so I'm just not doing anything. Well, I'm not doing anything beyond trying--relatively unsuccessfully, I might add--to entice him to get his body moving and by not buying sweets unless he asks for them.

I feel like there's got to be an answer out there, but for the life of me I can't figure out what it is.

Anyone have any ideas?

Anyone?

Bueller?

The Tidy Gene: Does It Exist & Where Can I Get One?

I would be posting pictures for you right now if I could. And I could be posting pictures right now if the cable that leads from my camera to my computer would show up. However, since I rarely put things where they belong and, in fact, many things in our house don't even have places where they belong (the cable does) I can't find it.

That's the bad thing about being messy. You can't find things when you need them. I wrote about being messy here last year, quoting the New York Times article, Saying Yes to Mess, by Penelope Green: "Studies are piling up that show that messy desks are the vivid signatures of people with creative, limber minds (who reap higher salaries than those with neat “office landscapes”) and that messy closet owners are probably better parents and nicer and cooler than their tidier counterparts." 

But, in the end does it really matter if I'm cooler, nicer, or a better parent than the next person if I can't find the things I need to live my life!? Maybe not. 

And how does my high tolerance for clutter (how's that for a positive spin?!) affect Jerry? How much of a person's personal habits are genetic and how much are learned? Jerry's got a 50/50 chance of being reasonably tidy if it's genetics because he's just as likely to have received Warren's "neat freak" genes as he is my "complete and utter chaos" genes. But Jerry spends most of his time with me. I'm setting the primary example. And it's not a very tidy one.

If you could see Jerry's playroom (and I'd post a photo if only--well, you know) you'd say he takes after me--no doubt. Let me describe it for you. Okay, I'm sitting in the doorway now. To my right are overflowing boxes (I think those might be mine), Lego train pieces are scattered across the floor, a plastic bin with hot wheels tracks is on top of a bean bag chair. There are two desks--one for painting and one for writing--neither of which has any room for either of those activities. To my left is a plastic basket (that's mine) with stuff left over from--hey! There's my camera cable! Yippee! I found it! Okay, I'm going to post some pictures of his playroom. Brace yourselves.

So did he get my genes or is he following my example? By not being orderly myself and not requiring a certain amount of order from Jerry, am I setting him up for a lifetime of lost camera cables and keys? Or am I accepting him for who he is? And if I could bring myself to, say, help him clean his playroom each night before bed, would that start a habit that he would carry into adulthood or would it just make our evenings stressful? My own mother certainly did her best to instill those habits in me, but apparently it was a wasted effort.

What's a messy mother to do? 

The New (Radical) Unschooler

I'm aiming for the Radical Unschooling lifestyle. There. I said it. It's out in the universe. I feel nervous just typing it because I didn't really ever imagine myself taking the "Radical" path--but I've bought the sales pitch, so to speak, and I'm in. I'm a believer. Or maybe I should say I have faith. Because I'm not sure if I know any radical unschoolers personally so I haven't actually seen the results with my own two eyes and even though I haven't met them I believe what they're telling me. (Yes, Caren, I'm going to attend the West Coast conference for sure and am trying for Live and Learn as well!!)

What are they saying? They say I can teach my child empathy and respect by modeling that behavior. They say if I trust my child my child will trust me. That kind of thing. I won't get too into it here because I always get a jumbled when I try to explain it and since I'm new to this parenting philosophy (and struggling with it) I'm not really qualified anyway.

Thus far my parenting approach could best be described as "parenting by instinct." I've always gone with what feels right and it's served me pretty well. My instincts led me to attachment parenting (though I'd never read much about it and only later learned it had a name) and a really warm and loving relationship with my son.

But along with my instincts I've also followed the usual role of parent in our society. I've used punishments and rewards to get Jerry to behave the way I want him to behave. I guess I should say I've tried to use punishments and rewards. They never worked too well.

But last year, when we started homeschooling, I discovered Unschooling. I originally thought it was just an educational philosophy but in these past 220 odd days I've discovered that Unschooling can be more than and educational philosophy. It can be a whole new way of living and relating to the people you love and to the world around you. And it sounds great. 

One of the most important aspects of Radical Unschooling, it's backbone, you might say, is non-coercive parenting. I haven't read any books about it. (Thanks Holly for the recommendation. I'll check out that Alfie Kohn book.) I haven't seen it practiced (that I know if). But my instincts are telling me it's right.

This post was really meant to answer the many heartfelt and thoughtful comments people left to my previous post. But there was such a long involved discussion going on it seems silly to go back and respond to everything that was said there. I will say that I understand what JJ meant when she wrote "it seems to me that zeroing in on Colleen's current feelings instead of her chosen commitment to change the direction of her whole life with Jerry and Warren, is like sympathizing with a girlfriend for a bad test score or being grounded for wrecking dad's car, and the whole group blaming her teacher or dad as a meanie, to help her 'feel better,'"  which is why I've decided to announce my intentions to try for the RU lifestyle. 

Friends and family, please don't panic. My parenting instincts have served me well thus far and I'm not leaving them behind. I'm just trying a different path. I'll still notice if something isn't right and I'll adjust accordingly. I'm not going to be bound by dogma and forgo my own freewill or any of that nonsense. I'm not going to give in to Jerry's every whim and forget that Warren and I have needs too. My goal is to create a family where each persons whims are considered equally, thereby creating a family in which each person feels equally important and honored. 

Just before Jerry and I left for our trip to the South Island I read a few of the comments to that last post and was struck by JJ's remark, "what if Warren didn’t want to go?" which made me wonder why it was so important that Warren and I get our way on that day. The very first thought that popped into my head was "because we're the adults." My next thought was, “because it’s our turn.” So that made think about this cycle of making children feel powerless--because that's what we're doing in traditional parenting practices. We say, "When you have your own kids, you can make the rules." And then our kids become parents and say the same thing to their kids. 

So what if it had always been my turn? Not my turn as in always getting what I want but my turn as in being given the power to make choices and have an impact. What if I could offer that gift to Jerry? (Friends and family, see paragraph 8.) Wouldn't it begin a cycle that was based on mutual respect and love and peace and all the things we say we want for the world but don't always think to give our own children? 

So that's the thought process I've been going through this past week and those are the answers I've come up with and Jerry and I have been at this internet cafe for over three hours now so I think I'd better stop writing and go back to the hostel.

But first I just have to say (again) that I appreciate ALL the comments people leave whether everyone agrees with them or not and whether they apply to one particular philosophy or they relate to your personal experiences. They're all welcome. Someday I might get a comment that I don't appreciate but it hasn't happened yet! 

A New Post

I'm cheating a bit here because I still haven't had time to sit down and read all the comments from that last post because we haven't had internet access at the hostel where we're staying. I just didn't want to leave my blog hanging around the blogosphere with that last post at the top because now we're having a great time. Jerry and I are spending the rest of the week in Queenstown, after spending some time in Christchurch, Oamaru and Dunedin. We'll meet Warren back in Christchurch on Saturday. Yesterday we rode a historic train through some amazing scenery. Today we went jetboating. Tomorrow we'll be spending the night onboard a boat on Doubtful Sound. I'm really looking forward to that! And throughout all of this travel we're getting along really well. Yippee!

I'm doing lots of thinking about parenting and coerciveness, though, and as soon as I have a quiet moment to read and ponder everyone's opinion I'll write down some of what's been on my mind--hopefully I'll get to be part of the discussion in the comments this time! :)

Unemployment/Vacation

So I quit my job but ended up having a major blow up on Sunday (while hiking up Rangitoto--the volcano--I was not unaware of the metaphor). I've decided that either a) I'm a complete basket case; b) I'm experiencing severe PMS; c) I'm pregnant (I almost wish it were true--it would explain what Jerry calls my "unstable" moods. The key word there, however, is "almost."); d) I am so very in tune with nature that walking up a mountain with seething magma at it's core caused my own emotional eruption. I'm gonna go with "d" because I don't like any of the other ones.

Unfortunately I don't have time to give you all the grisly details. Suffice it to say, I'm perched between traditional parenting and non-coercive parenting and I seem to have ended up stuck--unable to do either. I'm all confused and wishing I had my own personal guide every second of the day to tell me how to make it to the non-coercive side. JJ?

How To Avoid An Outburst

I have just finished a bowl of pasta with kalamata olives, feta cheese and tomatoes smothered in Italian dressing. The pasta was really just a vehicle for getting the cheese and olives into my mouth. My mouth is very happy now. I'm also sipping a nearly finished Monteith's Original Ale. That's good too.

It's been two days since Bad Day/Bad Mom and I think I've figured a few things out. First of all pretty much everyone (okay, everyone) that left comments to that last post agreed that it's alright for Mom to lose her cool every now and then; many people commented on the fact that I probably just need some time to myself (Amen!); and all agreed that it's okay to not feel ready for a hug just because your child wants one. I gratefully respond to each and everyone one of you: "Phew! Unschooling doesn't mean I have to be perfect!?"

The day after our Bad Night I remained emotionally removed from everything and everyone. We met Caroline, the wife of Warren's co-worker, and her three-year-old son for lunch--our husbands were miraculously able to break away from work with the rest of the editing crew--so I had to put on a happy face which, no doubt, was a good thing. After lunch we went to a place called Clip 'n' Climb for some indoor rock climbing with Caroline and her adorable, way to young to cause such problems, son. I looked longingly at his innocent little face all day, trying to conjure up the Jerry I used to know. Oh fine, I'm being dramatic. I really like the Jerry I know today. (I liked the three-year-old Jerry, too. Did I ever tell you how he used to tell everyone his name was Batman? Strangers would ask him his name and with a perfectly straight face he'd say "Batman." When said person laughed and said "Oh, how sweet, but what's your real name?" He'd look at them like they were completely daft and say, "Batman, idiot." Actually, he left out the idiot part, but you could tell he was thinking it.)

So, we passed the day as if we were under water (We did have fun at the rock climbing though!) and on the bus ride home finally talked about the previous night. We both agreed that we weren't quite over it yet but it felt better (at last) to talk about it.

Now, back to what I've figured out or, How To Avoid An Outburst (for a while, anyway):
1. Get some alone time. I need it. Enough said.
2. Stop doing all the work around the house on my own. Even though I didn't think it bothered me that I was doingdishescookingdinner-
groceryshoppingwashinglaundrymakingbedssweepingcleaningpayingbills all by myself while Jerry lounged on the couch, I realize now I was, subliminally, very bitter about it. So I'm going to start asking Jerry to pitch in more.
3. Buy some soothing herbal tea (in lieu of heavy drugs). I find tea--especially English Breakfast or Earl Grey--really soothing and I've required four to five cups of soothing a day since we got here. So I bought some Sleepytime tea in hopes that it will knock me out. (I'm already using Rescue Remedy Sleep and it's not working!)
4. Read Eat Pray Love--again. I didn't realize I needed this until I bought it today as a birthday gift for someone. I started rereading it on the bus ride to the party and didn't want to give it up when our ride ended. So I bought another copy for myself. In fact, I think I'll go to bed right now and get reading.

(But first, while we're on the topic of books, I have to say that the recent New York Times article, It's Not You, It's Your Books, has given me a total complex. I've been thinking about what my favorite books say about me and I'm afraid they might say I'm shallow and girlie. First off the only two books I've read twice (and loved both times) are Pride and Prejudice and I Capture the Castle. I also loved Lolita, The Wind-Up Bird Chronicles, Saturday, The Goat (or, Who is Sylvia), loads of short stories, and a bunch of other un-girlie stuff. But I'm thinking the two (soon to be three) books I've read twice don't sound very impressive. That's all. I just wanted to get that off my chest.)

Bad Night/Bad Mom

There were so many possible titles for this post. “Mother Loses it Over Seemingly Insignificant Event.” “Going Asunder Down Under.” “Immaturity Reigns (in me).” Or I could take the passive aggressive route and go with, “Jealous Now?!”

Unfortunately the title doesn’t change the fact that we had a bad night and I’m still feeling it this morning. I’ll just start right off and give my excuse. I think it’s the cumulative effect of being away from home for two months, not having a car, having a child that’s homesick and at the same time doesn’t want to leave the four walls of our new (temporary) home. And having a husband that works a minimum of 13 hours a day (including some weekends—both days last weekend, in fact, though the days were shorter).

This is what happened:
Jerry’s very sweet friend slept over last night—well, he was supposed to. He ended up leaving around 11 because he was missing his mom (probably my fault). His mom had dropped him off in the afternoon and he and Jerry played their DS’s, watched TV, played on the computer, and generally had a good time. I spent the day doing laundry, sweeping, mopping, and trying to get in touch with our landlord who has not returned my calls for two weeks and has failed in his four week old promise to deliver us a vacuum that works (which means the floor of our bedroom is littered with the corpses of unfortunate bugs who fly in through our many doors and windows and never make it out again--disgusting). I baked a cake, which I had to bake in a pan two times too big (there are cake pans here but they’re rusted and I had no wax paper) and then the boys didn’t like it. I wanted to get out and Jerry’s friend was keen to go to the park but Jerry didn’t want to go and was unmoved by the fact that his friend did. So we stayed home. Again.

Eventually I decided I’d watch a movie and had just put it in the DVD player when the boys started talking about going somewhere (it was almost dark now). So I stopped the movie and we tried to figure out an arrangement everyone would be happy with. Jerry’s friend wanted to go to the park (and so did I). Jerry wanted to go to Movenpick for ice cream sundaes. I wanted them to eat something before the sundaes so I suggested snacks now (they were both hungry), then park, then home for dinner, then Movenpick, or snacks, park, Movenpick then dinner. Jerry hemmed and hawed and didn’t want to go and finally I gave them some snacks and started making dinner.

But here’s where it went awry. Jerry had lost one of his DS games the last time he had a friend over. I had already noticed the DS games on the floor by the couch earlier in the day and had said, “I don’t think your games should be on the floor. You’ll end up losing one.” As I walked into the kitchen to start dinner I saw the games scattered across the sofa cushion (which is where the missing game was last seen). I said again, “Jerry, I really think those games should be put away in their case.”

Jerry snapped. He said didn’t like the way I’d been talking to him lately. I asked how long he felt this had been going on and he said “It’s been flippin’ five months!” to which he added “You know I’m exaggerating” as he slunk down on the couch.

That was all it took. First off, the word “flippin’” really bugs me. I don’t have a big problem with bad words, it’s the intention behind them and how they are used that matters to me. So he may have said flippin’ but his intention was fuckin’ and after two months of bending over backwards to make our stay manageable and fun for him, and spending day after day in our house with the television blaring (something that REALLY effects my wellbeing in a negative way) an accusation of five months (exaggerated or not) of talking to him in a “way he doesn’t like” was enough to send me over the edge.

I didn’t yell though. I just went upstairs and turned on a This American Life podcast. After a while they asked when we were going to get ice cream and I said we weren’t going—we had never come up with a plan anyway since Jerry couldn’t agree on doing anything anyone else wanted to do (I didn’t say that part).

After my podcast was over I made dinner—one for Jerry and one for his friend since they both eat different things—and put it on the table. “Dinner’s on the table,” I said. Nothing. “Hey, you guys. Come and eat. Your dinner’s on the table.” Then finally, “I know. We heard you the first time.” Me: “Then why didn’t you respond?” Jerry: “You can assume that we heard you.” “Not with the television blaring I can’t.” Then there was some kind of snotty remark and I just walked out and slammed the door.

I’ve never walked out before. But I was so angry. I think part of why I needed to get out is that as much as I love this house it’s come to feel like I’m trapped here half the time. I’m sure that has a lot to do with not having a car (though we’ve been getting around fine by bus and the shops are just a short walk away). Anyway, I went out to the garage, folded some laundry, then sat on the deck waiting for Warren to get home. (I couldn’t go in because I had locked myself out and there was no way I was knocking on the door!) I could see Jerry at the dinner table through the window. After he ate he put his dishes on the counter then started looking for me. Eventually he found me and came outside. He wanted to give me a hug but I just couldn’t. I told him I wasn’t ready. I couldn’t even talk about it yet.

When Warren got home I left. I took my purse, thinking I might get on the bus and go somewhere but I ended up just walking. I thought about getting something to eat but I was afraid if I had to speak I’d start crying, which I did anyway. I ended up sitting on a park bench for a long time. I called home to let Warren know where I was and after a while I went back. But I was still mad. I couldn’t believe it really, but I was.

I knew Jerry would want to talk when I got home. I knew he’d want to hug me and to be honest I didn’t want a hug and I didn’t feel ready to talk. But when I got back he broke down. He sobbed. He kept apologizing. I felt awful. I hugged him. I said it was alright, but it didn’t feel all right. It still doesn’t.

Busy Social Schedule & Toys Toys Toys

I thought I'd be posting all the time while we were here but that obviously hasn't been the case. Our social schedule is so much busier here than it ever was at home. I know part of that is due to the fact that we're in another country and we're supposed to be exploring, discovering and having fun. But when you think about it, as unschoolers,  shouldn't we be doing the exact same thing at home!? Of course we should! So that's something I plan on doing more of when we get home--exploring, discovering, having fun and being much more social.

Another thing I've noticed being over here, and actually, I noticed this when we started hanging around more homeschoolers in L.A. too, is that when Jerry was in private school we were part of a culture of people who buy a lot of stuff--and a lot of stuff for their kids. I'm not a big shopper and we really are pretty frugal, at least compared to the other families in the private schools of Los Angeles. But now that we're not spending as much time around that circle of people I find myself constantly embarrassed at the amount of stuff Jerry has. It really bothers me! One of the kids over here took a look at all the games Jerry has for his DS and said "Wow! Are you a millionaire!?" Granted those games are $75 each over here, but still, he does have lots. Too many maybe.

So I've been saying no more when he wants to buy things (going against the "say yes more" rule of unschooling)--and he always wants to buy things! He really likes to have stuff. I've always thought that if he wants something and there's no pressing reason not to buy it we should go ahead and get it. But when I think about his playroom (yes, there is an entire room in our house dedicated to his "stuff") I wonder if maybe I've made a mistake. Maybe I should have said no more and put that money in savings instead. Or purchased stocks with it. I don't know. I do know that Jerry has more stuff than any kid I've met since we left the Waldorf School and it worries me.

We're off to Rotorua tonight for a weekend in a hotel with Warren and then a few nights with some homeschooling families down there. We'll be seeing lots of geothermal activity, riding in the Zorb, taking a gondola ride up to a luge track, visiting the Agrodome and more!

Not A Museum Kind Of Kid

Take a close look at this picture from the excellent Auckland Maritime Museum. There's me, sitting in the machinery room of a giant steam crane. I'm checking out the machinery, reading about the boat, wondering what it must have been like for the men who worked here, trying to figure out how everything works. And there's Jerry, just on the other side of the wall, eyes intently focused four inches in front of his face on his Nintendo DS. This picture is a perfect example of our differing approaches to museums. I like to take the "look-around-and-learn" approach, while Jerry takes the "play-video-games-until-we-leave" approach.
I can't say I'm thrilled about our differences. I would much rather have him happily by my side, sharing my excitement. But, as Jerry has told me time and time, again he's "just not a museum kind of kid."

The way I see it, this leaves me with three options:
1.) Don't go to museums. (Not much fun for me.)
2.) Insist we go to museums together and force Jerry to follow along with me. (Not much fun for Jerry and definitely no fun for me--listening to a constant barrage of complaints is one of my least favorite ways to spend a day.)
3.) Go to museums together and park Jerry in one place where he can play his DS while I explore the galleries.

With option three we both win. Jerry gets to spend his time doing something he finds worthwhile and so do I.

I have to say, a year ago I would have been appalled by this arrangement. I would have thought (as many people might) that as a mother who has taken on the job of educating her child at home it was my responsibility to see that he learned something from our outings. After all, what a terrible waste to be surrounded by all that knowledge and not take any of it home.

But the truth is, he's much more likely to take something home from our museum visits when he takes it with a willing heart. And even though he does spend a great deal of his time at museums playing his DS, there are times when he is drawn in by a particular exhibit and ends up learning a lot. As a matter of fact, there are museums we go to where the DS never sees the light of day (Zeum in San Francisco, for one, and any kind of Science Center).

For me, it's more important to have a pleasant day (and a good relationship) than to waste my time trying and cram knowledge down Jerry's throat. Still, I don't keep interesting information to myself. If I come across something that might interest Jerry, or if I find something I especially like, I'll guide him to it. Sometimes he'll linger a while and sometimes he'll go right back to his game. Unschooling has helped me to accept both choices.

It doesn't come naturally for me, though, this acceptance. Many times (though less and less frequently as deschooling does its work) I have to make a conscious effort not to show signs of irritation when he's not interested in something I find fascinating. But what would I gain by getting irritated or by taking the standard approach and forcing him to "enjoy" the museum (never mind the fact that forcing enjoyment on anyone is impossible)? I would get a son who thinks I don't care about what he wants and I'd end up angry and annoyed. Instead we both end up enriched by our (somewhat different) museum experiences and we end the day knowing our feelings have been honored.

So, even though I always feel like a bit of a fraud when I offer parenting, homeschooling, or unschooling tips, I can offer this advice with confidence: if you have a child that's "not a museum kind of kid" forget about your preconceived notions of what a trip to the museum should look like and take the hand-held video game (or your child's preferred activity) along. It's not going to kill anyone, your child can't help gaining something from the experience, and you'll pass the day free of complaints--okay, almost free of complaints. But it'll be good. Trust me.

Sweet Relief

Good things are happening here. I don't have much time to write about them because we're heading out to a "Socialsing in the Park" event for unschoolers today and Jerry is out of clean underwear and I need a shower and the dishes need to be washed and I need to get directions for taking the bus and--you get the picture. I just wanted to give you a quick rundown of what's been going on.

1. I bought Jerry a moonstone and told him it would help with his homesickness. According to the all-knowing internet, Moonstones are supposed to "help one to feel less overwhelmed by personal feelings and allow one to accept new beginnings." He's keeping it in his pocket at all times now and says it's doing the trick. Of course, it first started to work it's magic when...

2. We spent Sunday night at the home of the fabulous Middlemas family (a walking endorsement for unschooling if ever there was one) and went to Goat Island with them for their son's 11th birthday on Monday. Warren was with us for dinner at their place on Sunday and we got to meet some of their extended family and homeschooling friends. We had a great time. Then Monday we drove north and were able to see some of the countryside on our way to Goat Island Marine Reserve, where the fish come right up to you in the water. We were treated to a trip on a glass-bottom boat and learned how to identify the fish we'd been seeing in the water. Then we stopped at the Warkworth Honey Centre on our way home and had a snack, watched the bees doing their thing, and bought some beeswax candles and honey.

3. We've been spending more time running through the hallways of our hotel and exploring places we haven't seen yet. We went to the gym and had a five minute workout and went swimming in the lap pool instead of the usual outdoor pool. We even spent about 30 seconds in the sauna.

4. We've gotten a couple Pay (through the nose) Per View movies at $14.90 each, throwing fiscal responsibility to the wind.

5. We finally have a video rental card thanks to the guy we'll be renting the house from. He's letting us use his. So yesterday we rented five DVDs.

6. We've been laughing more.

7. Jerry actually agreed to go out to dinner last night so we walked around the Viaduct and decided we would go on a boat trip on an America's Cup-type yacht. That should be really fun. I'm hoping to go tomorrow.

8. Our schedule is really filling up with fun places to go and people to see and meet. (We're going to meet Shell today at the park!!)

9. We're moving into a house in six days and then we'll have more internet access, better television stations, and a cute little neighborhood to call our own. We're going to get a scooter for Jerry once we get there and maybe borrow a couple bikes to make getting around more fun.

So all in all we seem to be moving in the right direction. I have lots of pictures to share but they're all still on my camera so I'll have to post them later.

We're off to the park!

Patience: This Is Only A Test, Or Is It?

First off the good news. The England cricket team is staying at our hotel. Not that I care about cricket or even hope to understand why on earth they keep running between those sticks. But the players are awfully cute.

Okay, there's more good news. I'm alone. No, get your mind out of the gutter! Not alone so I can take advantage of the handsome men. Alone so I can recharge my batteries. And let me tell you--my batteries are pretty low.

Why are they so low? I'm glad you asked. They are low because I've had to use every last ounce of patience in my body, and even pull some out of thin air (who knew you could find patience in thin air!?) in order to deal with Jerry's super duper whopping case of homesickness. He's having such a hard time.

I'd say about five nights out of the eight that we've been here he's cried. But the night before last was the worst. He was hyperventilating and hitting himself (something I've never seen him do before) and even hitting Warren. It was just awful.

Jerry ended up slumped on the floor of his bedroom saying he felt like he would lose his mind if we didn't go home. Warren ended up angry in another room with the door shut. And I ended up sitting with Jerry wondering what on earth I could do to help him through this.

Jerry went to summer camp for three weeks last year and the first week and a half was really tough for him. He was very homesick. I nearly went to pick him up but the woman that runs the camp said she'd seen kids that needed to go home and Jerry wasn't one of them. I decided to see if he'd warm up to it. He did and now he can't wait to go back this summer.

So I asked Jerry what had made that first week at camp bearable and he said his counselor, Nick. Nick just listened, Jerry said, and really felt his pain in a way that "a parent never could."

So I promised I would do my best to listen and help him work through his homesickness. I didn't talk about making the best of our situation or being in a really cool place or any of that.

When Jerry finally calmed down he wanted me to tell his dad he was sorry. He expected his dad would probably want to apologize too and asked if I would tell Warren to come talk to him in the bedroom.

Warren said no. He was that angry. Now this made me really angry but I didn't say anything. Well, I said I thought he should try to remember that he is the adult, then I went back to Jerry and made up an excuse for why Warren wasn't with me.

It was tough. I felt like I was walking a very thin tightrope. I knew that Warren had every right to feel angry and I needed to allow him to have his feelings the same as I was allowing Jerry to have his. But I felt Warren's feelings would ultimately damage his relationship with Jerry so it was hard to just let them be. I did though. Maybe I should have tried to talk to him more about it at the time but Jerry really needed me to be with him so I left Warren to his anger, poured Jerry a glass of water with some Rescue Remedy, and read him a story.

Warren did end up coming into the room later but I don't know what was said. I left to get ready for bed. I only know that the following night Jerry was aware that his feelings, which were perfectly legitimate, had made his dad angry.

The next night we almost had an encore.

Warren had gone out to a rugby game. (That's another sport I just can't wrap my head around. Why do they keep going once the guy with the ball is down?) So it was just me and Jerry at home. We watched a little television then Jerry started to talk about missing home, got teary and started hyperventilating again. I was prepared to let him go through the feelings again but then he started talking (almost yelling) to me in a way that I really didn't like. He was looking at me like he hated me so I stopped him and said "No. We're not doing this again."

He looked at me with the same piercing eyes and said "So much for being a good listener."

That hurt. But only for a second because I realized being a good listener doesn't mean you have to let someone talk to you in a way that you don't like. I said as much and he said "sometimes I wish you never were my mother."

You'd think this would really sting but I knew how much pain he was in. I just said, "I'm sorry you feel that way." But then he came over and gave me a hug and cried and said sorry and I said I didn't actually believe him anyway. How could he not want me as a mother?

I told him he was going to have a bath (I had tried asking the night before and he'd said no) and started to run the water. While the water was running he started to hyperventilate again. He said he thought he must be losing his mind. He was clearly frightened by this surge of emotions. Then something clicked for me.

He's going through puberty.

He was homesick, yes. But he was also dealing with emotions that were far more powerful than he'd ever experienced before. All of a sudden I knew how to talk to him about what was going on. I explained that at this time of his life his emotions would sometimes get the better of him. They'd probably be really strong and swing from one pole to the other but that's perfectly normal. That's puberty. He's not losing his mind. He's 12. And yes, he's homesick. And that's okay. We'll figure out a way to work through it.

Throughout all of this I was so thankful for the unschooling philosophy. I don't know how I would have handled these situations without starting from a place of honoring Jerry's feelings--all of them--but I'm pretty sure it would have been disastrous. It allowed me to honor Warren's feelings, too. And even though I still felt angry at him, I didn't yell or tell Warren to stop feeling that way. I knew if I was honoring Jerry's feelings, Warren's had to be honored too.

So last night Jerry had a bath and showed me how you can transfer air from one glass to another under the water. He tried to float on a Ziploc bag full of air and checked out the effects of various amounts of air and water in the bag. I read aloud from the first chapter of a The Sea of Trolls. We watched a Chris Rock movie in which he was elected the first black president of the US, and talked about the historic election that was about to take place and how Obama wasn't much like the character Chris Rock portrayed. We made brownies, then we went to bed.

At one point this morning I realized I'd surprised myself these past few days. I'd shown much more patience than I knew I possessed. But then it occurred to me that this is probably just the beginning. The patience, what was in me and what I had to draw from the air around me, that I'd used this past week was probably just a drop in the hat compared to what I'll need to get through the next five years of parenting.

I almost cried. Will someone please tell me it's not going to be like this for the next five years?

Mutiny At The Hotel

Okay, mutiny may be a bit strong, but there's definite unrest. Jerry has said he's not going to walk or take the bus anywhere anymore. End of story. During the conversation leading up to this declaration I started out by acknowledging that it's hard to be away from home but said we would get to see lots of really cool things. He said he doesn't care. I took a calming breath. I said it's only temporary. He said a week is temporary, three months is not temporary. I said "Actually, by definition three months is still temporary," but he said he doesn't go by "definition." I took another deep calming breath. I said when we find ourselves in situations that we don't like we should first determine if the situation can be changed. Our current situation can't be changed because we can't afford to rent a car here and even if we could we don't have a place to park it. Once we've determined there is no changing a situation we need to find ways to accept it. To look on the bright side. He said there is no bright side to walking and taking the bus. I forgot the calming breath and said there is a bright side ecologically speaking and by the way there are children all over the world whose families cannot afford a car for even one day let alone every day and they have to walk everywhere all the time and they're lucky if they can afford to take the bus. He said next time his dad gets a job on location he is not going. "Period." I said "Well, if you don't want to go anywhere you can always stay here with a babysitter." He didn't say anything. I took a deep breath and stayed beside him on the couch for a few minutes trying to think of the right thing to say. (You know, something that doesn't start with "Listen you little ingrate...".) All I could come up with was "Well, I don't know what to say," which I said. Then I came to my computer and started writing.

Midway through the previous paragraph he came over and gave me a hug and said, "I think you understand how I'm feeling." I said I did. And I do. It's no surprise to me that he's not a fan of self-propelled or public transportation. He never has been. I had hoped, however, that we'd make it through the first few weeks before he flat out refused to go anywhere on foot. His constant refrain the past two days has been "Can't we take a taxi?" Mind you, we're not walking huge distances. Today he wanted to take a taxi three blocks. I think I'm going to have to come up with some kind of compensation in return for his cooperation. Something like I'll go swimming with him if he walks somewhere with me. Anyone have any ideas?

A Normal Family

Well, I know I said I was going to neglect my blog but something happened today that I wanted to write about. Jerry had a complete meltdown. He sobbed and sobbed and said he didn't want to go to New Zealand. He just wants his dad to come home and he wants to be a normal family with a normal dad that's not gone all the time. I said his dad didn't really go away all that much, but Jerry said he wasn't talking about when his dad was away. He meant when he was home. He wants a normal dad that's at work half the time and at home half the time, instead of at work 3/4 of the time and at home 1/4 of it. He kept saying over and over "I just want to be normal." It was so sad.

This was the first time he's ever really talked about how he feels about Warren's work. I listened and did my best honor his feelings. In the end, he pulled himself together and we went out for lunch. Later we talked about being normal and whether or not there was such a thing. I said I thought normalcy was way overrated anyway. He laughed and said maybe there were some normal families that wished for an abnormal life like his. I had to agree.

I'm ashamed to say I did not, in any way, miss the fact that, as heartbreaking as this scenario was (and believe me, it was), he was doing fractions.

Feeling Respected

There was one little hiccup last week with Jerry from which I learned a valuable lesson--two lessons, actually.

Adriana had taken the kids to the zoo while I went to a doctor's appointment (the third one in a week!). When they got into the car Jerry wanted to know if he could go back in and buy something from the gift shop. I said no because we had just bought three things at the Science Center and I wasn't feeling well and just wanted to get home. Once we got home everyone went inside except Jerry. He stayed in the front yard on the hammock.

I went over to talk to him and he said he was feeling like the whole week had been all about the guests and he wasn't getting any respect. He was really upset. We talked about how the week had gone and throughout our conversation I pointed out ways in which I had gone out of my way that week to make sure Jerry had felt respected and heard.

Twice he said "But I FEEL like I'm not getting any respect."

The third time he finally said "Mom, I know you haven't done anything to disrespect me. What I'm saying is I FEEL like I'm not getting any respect."

Oh.

I was all worried about proving to him that I hadn't been overlooking his needs but it wasn't about me. It was about Jerry and what he was feeling. And whether or not I did anything to make him feel bad, he was still feeling bad. It was such a wake up call for me.

What did I learn? First off, I learned it's not all about me.(What a shock!) Second, I learned to listen. Jerry had been telling me all along that his problem was not about anything I did or didn't do. It was about a feeling he was having. And whether or not I (or Jerry) could find sufficient cause for his feeling disrespected, he was most certainly experiencing the feeling.

So, I stopped trying to prove that he had no cause for feeling disrespected and just listened. That was all he wanted really.

Commitments & Taking Children Seriously

I've been thinking that to someone who is new to unschooling, my question about honoring commitments might be confusing. In mainstream parenting if your child commits to a team sport or a lesson, he's committed. He sees it through. End of story. If someone had asked me for advice on my current situation four months ago I would have said, "The child said he wanted to take the class, you're paying for it, he needs to learn that commitments should be honored and get his butt to class."

But that was before I discovered the unschooling lifestyle and Taking Children Seriously. Now I look at things differently, so I thought I'd take this opportunity to explain where I'm coming from for those of you who are new to these ideas. I'm still pretty new to them myself, but I'll do my best to explain the philosophy of Taking Children Seriously as I understand it today, on day 84 of our unschooling adventure.

As far as I can tell, it's all about treating my child the way I want to be treated. It sounds ridiculously simple but it changes everything. Just think of all the things you might do or say during the course of a day that minimize your child's wishes in favor of accomplishing your own goals. Now imagine taking those wishes seriously and really trying to make adjustments for them. Actually, I'm envisioning my niece and her frequent desire to dump all the liquids in my sister's refrigerator onto the floor, as I write this. Okay, stop imagining that. To be honest, if you have a toddler, I have to tell you right now that I have no idea how this works with toddlers. If I had known about this philosophy when my son was young I would have tried it and I would have loads of advice for you, but I had never even imagined such a way of life existed back then. I mean, I was into attachment parenting and the family bed and all that but this is a whole new ball game. (For real life experiences in Taking Children Seriously with toddlers and younger kids try the Parenting Pit and Happy@Home.)

Anyway, I digress.

Let's move on to commitments since I can't seem to explain Taking Children Seriously very well and for some reason their website is down so I can't even cut and paste an explanation for you. [The Taking Children Seriously site is back up! Click here for a link.]

How will a child learn to honor his commitments if he is never forced to honor them? Well, how did you learn to honor your commitments? It's unlikely that you honor commitments today because you were forced to honor them as a child. I don't even think honoring commitments is a lesson that can be learned (or taught), now that I think about it. Sure, you can drill a sense of duty into a person but what does that accomplish, really? And is a sense of duty something we want to cultivate in our children? For me the answer is no. You can always tell when a person is doing something out of duty because most often there's no joy in it. I want Jerry to approach his commitments with joy--not duty.

And here's another thing I know about Taking Children Seriously. It requires that you always expect the best of your child. For example, if Jerry commits to doing something and suddenly doesn't want to go, I need to expect that he has valid reasons for wanting to bail out. I should not leap to the conclusion that he doesn't want to follow through because he's lazy. That one little alteration in thinking makes a really big difference.

Okay, since I'm having trouble explaining where I'm coming from here I'm going to fall back on Rue Kream, author of my favorite unschooling book to date, Parenting a Free Child: An Unschooled Life. I've been trying to adhere to this list, from the back of her book, lately.

Fifteen things I wish adults would not imply to children
by Rue Kream

1. I don't trust you.
2. You don't try hard enough.
3. I can boss you around because I'm bigger.
4. Adults know everything.
5. You don't know what you're capable of.
6. Possessions are more important to me than you are.
7. You should believe what I believe.
8. Your feelings are not important.
9. It's okay to ignore kids.
10. I don't have time for you.
11. You have to earn my love.
12. I want to change you.
13. You owe me respect.
14. I know what's best for you.
15. You're not a whole person.

So, those are all things I'm trying hard not to imply to Jerry. And by not implying those things I'm taking him seriously. By taking him seriously I'm setting a fine example of what it means to commit to someone (Jerry) or something (parenting) out of love, rather than duty. And that's how I'm teaching him to honor his commitments.*

Sheri, at SwissArmyWife, recently posted something on a similar topic: the Golden Rule. If we apply it to each other shouldn't we apply it to our children too? You can read her post by clicking here.

*I hope you can tell by now that what I mean when I say I'm "doing" something is that I'm STRIVING to do it. I'm not saying I do it all the time. That's my goal, but I'm human and I'm new to this so I don't, by any stretch of the imagination, have this nailed down. I just wanted to make that clear. :)

On Commitments

So, I've been saying yes more. I've been honoring Jerry's feelings and interests and that's all fine and good, but a pattern is emerging that I'm not exactly happy with. He's bailing out on his classes at the last minute. It's not that he wants to stop taking the classes. He insists he wants to take them. But there have been more than a few days in the last couple months when Jerry has made a commitment to attend a class and just before we leave, or the teacher arrives, or we're about to walk in the door he doesn't feel like going.

Ever since the "chess incident", whenever he's said he doesn't want to go to a class I've said okay--well, mostly. The other day he didn't want to go to trombone and I said he had to, but he went along without a fuss. He's bailing out a lot lately, though.

Remember the circus class I mentioned I've been going to? Well, he finally said he wanted to join, I signed him up, and then TWICE (not once) on the morning of class--after I'd committed to paying for his lesson--he didn't want to go. Both times I let him stay home. He did finally join me this week but only after a discussion on the importance of honoring his commitments and not taking advantage of people (me) who are paying for classes because he says he wants to take them.

Just this morning his drawing teacher was due to arrive and suddenly he didn't want to have drawing class. At first I said I would take the class instead because we'd have to pay for it whether she taught him or not but then I realized I needed to drop my car off at the mechanic's, so I said he'd have to have the lesson whether he wanted it or not.

So, basically, I'm struggling with the boundary between letting Jerry make his own choices and requiring that he honor his commitments. I'm definitely against wasting time on something just because you started it. If a book, a movie, or a class I'm taking is bad I drop it. Life is too precious to be wasted on bad art and boring teachers. And I did let Jerry drop an expensive series of classes recently because he didn't like it (and there were no refunds!). So I'm not coming at this from an "honor your commitments even if they make you want to gouge your eyes out" point of view. But when we pay for Jerry to take drawing or trombone or go to circus class because he says he wants to do those things it's not so easy for me to let it slide when he wants to stay home instead.

I'm not really sure what the solution is. This morning after drawing his teacher asked if we wanted to meet next week or the following week and I left it up to Jerry completely. At least that way there is no question about who made the commitment. Maybe part of the solution, then, is to make sure he recognizes that he is the one in control. He's making the choice to schedule the lesson, therefore he is the one in charge of honoring that commitment.

I don't know. I still don't know exactly how to balance out letting Jerry make his own choices and making sure I'm not wasting a lot of money on classes he doesn't attend.

Hmmm.....I'm not too sure about this one.

Now I have to mention something completely unrelated to this post. My cat, Charlie (the black and white one) got in the shower with me today! Yes, he actually stood on the floor of the shower and let the water run down his back. He kept his head under the shower liner so it wouldn't get wet but the rest of him was soaked by the time he finally jumped out. Isn't that funny?!

The Happiness Question

Today I was thinking about how my own happiness, lately, kind of hinges on whether or not I like Jerry's chosen activities. Not completely, I mean, I'm not getting freaked out about video games or computer use anymore and I'm finding lots of joy in my own activities and interests now that I'm giving Jerry more freedom to make his own choices. But I had the realization today that I feel better when Jerry chooses to do something that pleases me.

For example, we're reading the Edith Grossman translation of Don Quixote right now as our bedtime story. It was Jerry's choice. I had read him the windmill scene a few years ago and he said he wanted to read the whole book together. This makes me very happy. Why? Because it's a classic. Because it's not your typical kid lit. And because it sounds good. When someone asks what we're doing for homeschooling I can ramble off a few highlights (like the cool science projects or the volcano research) and then throw in "Oh, and we're reading Don Quixote." I can't help it. I get a thrill out of it, but I'm thinking it would be better if I didn't.

I mean, is it really safe to let another person's choice of how he spends his time determine whether or not I'm happy on a particular day? I'm thinking no. But I'm wondering if I'll ever be able to remove myself completely (emotionally, I mean) from Jerry's choices. Somehow, I don't think so. And would I want to? Do I need to? Is there a certain emotional distance involved in not judging how another person spends his time? I don't know.

What do you think?

On Trust

Now that we're starting to settle in to our routine (or non-routine, really) I can finally get back to talking about trust.

Here's how my handy widget dictionary defines trust:
(noun)
-Firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability or strength of someone or something.

-The state of being responsible for someone or something.

-A hope or expectation.

(verb)
-To allow someone to have, use or look after (someone or something of importance or value) with confidence.

A couple weeks ago I was telling Jerry that there's a form of unschooling where the parents give their children complete freedom to make their own choices. His eyes got really big and he got a huge grin on his face. "Would that be a good idea for us?" I asked.

"No way!" he said, "I'd probably just play video games all day."

I laughed, but at the same time I felt a little sad. I want him to trust himself with those choices, but I know I'm not entirely ready to hand them over to him. Thankfully, I've (finally!) recognized that I don't need to hand them over all at once. I'm working my way up to a "firm belief in the reliability, truth, ability or strength" of my son. But I'm taking baby steps.

One thing that stands out to me in the above definitions of trust is the emphasis on "belief" and "confidence." Part of the problem I was having at the start of our unschooling, with letting Jerry set his own screen time, was that I was giving trust without belief or confidence--and that's not trust. No wonder we were having problems!

Jerry knows I don't have all the answers. He can see that I'm asking questions, making choices, evaluating, and correcting as we go. We talk about my choices, and his, and we try to come up with a plan that works for all of us (my husband, included).

I still think Jerry takes comfort in some of the boundries we've set for him. But as time goes by, we'll lift those boundries and shift control to him. When we're ready.

As my confidence and belief in my son grows, so will his confidence and belief in himself grow.

That's my hope.

The Great Allowance Debacle

Before I get to The Great Allowance Debacle I just wanted to thank everyone who has been commenting on my entries. Some of the best, most insightful stuff is found in those comments. I really appreciate you all taking time out of your day to share your thoughts and experiences.

Oh, and one other thing. Read this post if you're struggling to find the right degree of unschooling for you and your family. It's great.

There's been such great "talk" in the comments on this blog about trust lately that I feel I should be writing about trust, BUT I've just spent two hours reading Money Doesn't Grow on Trees while sitting on a bench at the mall waiting for Jerry to finish playing and painting War Hammer, so my mind is on allowance.

We have swung every possible way a pendulum can swing in regards to giving a child an allowance. We've given no allowance. We've given allowance for chores. We've given allowance for merely existing. We've given a combination allowance (a base rate for merely existing plus extra for completing chores). Our latest system uses the combination formula except that we've done away with the word chores--they're called "responsibilities" now. Jerry gets a base rate just because he lives and if he takes care of his chores (I mean responsibilities) without being told to (this has NEVER happened) he gets a bonus. As you can see, the last twelve years have truly been an allowance debacle.

But, today I was at the ISP store buying a few books, because buying books always makes me feel better, when I stumbled upon Money Doesn't Grow on Trees by Neale S. Godfrey. Now we have a new allowance plan. A New Deal, as it were. It's probably not very unschoolish but after reading Tammy's entry about Zen-Schooling (the link is up at the top where I wrote "Read this post") I've realized it doesn't matter if it's unschoolish or not. It sounds good and I'm going to give it a try.

Here's the basic idea. The allowance WILL be linked to chores (we're back to that word again). We'll require both savings and charitable giving. We'll give Jerry enough so that he can conceivably buy his own manga, video games, War Hammer (that stuff's outrageously expensive!), and whatever else he would usually be begging us to buy, as long as he manages it wisely and saves. He'll get his allowance on the same day every week. 10% will go into the charity jar and the other 90% will be divided up between long-term, middle-term and quick cash. If he doesn't do all of his chores he won't get the allowance. That's it.

The really good thing about this plan is that Jerry will be learning a lot about spending and saving and it will all come from direct experience (so maybe it's a little unschoolish). I've already figured out that even though he hates math I can slip in loads of mental math while we're driving, as long as it's related to buying something he wants. For example, I might say "If you want to order one song for $.99 and one game for $4.99 from iTunes, what will the sales tax be? And what's your total?"

So that's the plan. I hope it works. My battery is about to die so I'm signing off!