Which problem are you solving?

In a book about permaculture, I once read a story of a gardener who was being driven to distraction by the slugs & snails eating his crop.  He tried everything he could think of, and then went to his mentor in despair.  The mentor looked carefully around at his garden, then said: "Your problem is not an oversupply of snails, its an under-supply of ducks".  The gardener bought a couple of ducks, and they ate the snails and slugs (and incidentally, fertilized the garden). The problem was solved, but only when the correct problem was identified.

Lately, I have been charmed – and humbled – by the many opportunities life affords us, of checking our assumptions about what the problem is.

Is the problem that you're being difficult? Or is that I'm being controlling?

Is the problem that other people won't give me what I need? Or is the problem that I don't action on my own behalf?

Is the problem that other people can be so inconsiderate? Or is the problem that I am not maintaining my own boundaries, and saying "No" when appropriate?

Is the problem that I don't have "enough" money? Or is the problem that I resist following my dreams due to false or outdated information and beliefs?

Is the problem that everyone is blaming me for what went wrong? Or is the problem that I secretly feel guilty, and so I'm hearing the feedback as negative and blaming?

There's a knack to seeing what is going on from a different angle, but its one we can all develop.  I once watched a child trying to write, resting their notebook on the seat of a chair.  "This pen doesn't work!" she cried.  I looked closely at what she was doing, and said, "The pen is fine, your book has slipped out and is hanging off the end of the chair seat, and so the pen hasn't got anything to push against."  I slid the book back on the chair, and this time the pen worked.  I wonder how many pens that child would have gone through, before she saw what was really going on?  Chances are, the more times the pen "didn't work", the more frustrated she would be.  So now whenever I get really frustrated by a problem, I try to stop myself and ask: 

"What am I not seeing here?"  Am I seeing too many slugs, or not enough ducks?  Am I seeing a broken pen, or a bad writing surface?

Think about a problem in your life that frustrates you:  could there be something you are not seeing?

The Tonka Truck Theory of Parenting

I developed this theory many years ago, before I began regularly working with families.  No matter how hard a parent tries, they're bound to get something wrong. It's inevitable, and that can be, kind of, OK.

Nothing I have learned since has disproved it.

 

When you were a child, you wanted a Tonka Truck.  

    But for some reason your parents never bought you a Tonka Truck.  

         So now you are a parent, and whatever else your child may or may not have, 

              you will buy her a Tonka Truck.

But your child does not want a Tonka Truck.

Your child wants a rocking horse.

But for some reason you have never bought your child a rocking horse.

So now your child is an adult, and whatever else her child may or may not have,

She will buy her child a rocking horse.

But her child does not want a rocking horse.

    Her child wants a puppy.  

        But for some reason he has never bought his child a puppy.  

             So now his child is an adult, and whatever else his child may or may not have,

                 He will buy his child a puppy.

But his child does not want a puppy.

His child wants a Tonka Truck.

So there it is, my contribution to the social sciences.  By all means pass it on, but remember to say where you heard it:  I'd quite like it to go down to history as Spencer's Theory.

Mother

Yesterday was Mother's Day* which seems a fitting moment to pay tribute.  I'm not a mother myself, as the title of this blog announces, but I respect and admire both the task, and the women who take it on.  I know it comes with in-built positive feedback - children tend to love you back.  Still, it's not easy, even with the plus of loving your kids to distraction.

Our society has a lot of baggage about mothers. In historical terms, this is a new development. Every time the role of Mother has changed, we've tended to keep all the old tasks, and superimpose new ones on it as well.  This creates enormous, and sometimes conflicting, expectations.  It's a job that comes with shoes no single human being can possibly fill, which means every mother knows about, or learns about Guilt.  It's a real catch-22.

It shouldn't surprise us, with the current boom in assisted reproduction, that the first job of women for most of history was to try to become a mother.  (There was also the other job of trying not to become a mother unless you were married).  Carrying to term was a challenge. Read your history and its astonishing how ordinary having had two or three wives was.  Since there was no divorce, it's not hard to work out what happened to them.

The second job of women from the mists of time up until very recently, was to keep as many of your children alive until adult-hood, as possible.  Any woman who managed that - and she had to have a lot of luck on her side to do that - was a prize one, class-A mother.  Today, child mortality is so low, you don't even get a "pass" mark for getting the child to 21.

The third job was to pound some basic manners into the children.  And I do mean 'pound'. Manners included respect for your parents' authority in all matters. Until the early 1900s, even many adults, especially women, found it almost impossible to go against the orders of their parents.  [Yes, ladies, take a moment for a blissful fantasy.]  As teenagers had not yet been invented, most of the challenges of raising adolescents were many centuries in the future.  If you teen was giving you trouble, you locked them up or beat them.  Or put them out as apprentices.

I find it interesting that a concern with toilet-training isn't very high on the list until fairly recently.  Before that, children had nappies until they worked out what to do. Since those nappies weren't going to be changed near as often as modern hygeine requires - there were no washing machines back then - there was a built-in incentive.  And peer pressure too, from the many children that were around.

Early walking wasn't a feature either - swaddling was all the go for most of history.  If you're working in the fields, or around open fires (ie. the kitchen) its' better all round if the children don't move around too much until they have learned what "no" means.

In fact it's only within the last hundred years (or so) that the majority of women have had time to 'parent' in the way we now understand it.  Prior to that, anyone who wasn't middle class (or higher) was frankly too busy keeping people alive (ie. fed and clean) to worry over the children reaching their developmental potential.  And women of the middle class (or higher) expected the nurse to take care of most of the actual physical care.

Even in the 50s, it was quite common for mothers to encourage the children over about 5 to go outside for most of the day.  I have heard several stories of parents who would lock the doors so the kids couldn't get back in before dark!  That way the mother could do all her housework and possibly even sneak a little nap.

The Victorians came up with the idea of the 'angel in the house', the woman who is spiritually and morally superior, and so exerts a benign influence over her children's development.  Such women were not encouraged to spend more than about half an hour per day with the children, as it would never do to give vent to feelings of either irritation and displeasure on the one hand, or of "too much" affection and indulgence on the other.  The Victorian mother was told bluntly to leave the messy tasks to the Nanny, as it's impossible to stay serene and ideal if you're doing all of that.

Today's Mother is stuck with all of this & MORE.  She has to be an angel, and be serene and graceful and gracious, she has to adore her children (at all times) with a fierce and biased love, but she must be aware of their shortcomings and not brag on about them to others.  She must be with her children as often as they desire/require, yet make time for herself, and keep her romantic relationship alive and zinging along. She must have a lovely house, and cook wholesome nutritious food for her children, and work outside the house both to contribute income and to satisfy her own intellectual and professional needs.  She must attend all her children's MANY sporting activities, and cheer relentlessly from the sidelines, concealing any slight boredom she might reasonably feel, and equally must avoid being a pushy parent.  She must give her children space and time to 'just be kids' without neglecting a single opportunity to explore a new interest, nurture a budding talent or 'socialise' successfully with their peer group, and she must ensure the children are appropriately supervised at all times.

All this in a society where supermarkets put lollies (candies) at child-eye height in the checkout and then everybody glares at you when the child has a melt-down temper tantrum because you said, "No".  (Or glares at you for allowing your child to eat all that sugar.) 

Within the job description exist warm, wonderful, intelligent and above all tired women, who daily battle against untold obstacles to raise their children, and mostly keep their tempers and their senses of humour while doing so.

Here's to you.

*unless you're in Great Britain.  They're traditionalists and stick to Mothering Sunday.