Showing posts with label children communicate with each other. Show all posts
Showing posts with label children communicate with each other. Show all posts

Saturday, 24 November 2012

I AM An Advocate


Today's prompt for the health blogging marathon I signed up for (blindly, I should add), asks how I have changed as an activist or advocate. My first response was to sputter,
" I am not an advocate  for anything!"
Then I experienced an epiphany of sorts,
"Hey, wait a minute. I stand up for large families in an often hostile society!"

In my experience as a mother of nine children, I have encountered more condemnation than acceptance, more questions that understanding. Perhaps it is because I do not look like the mother of a large family. I am tiny, look younger than my age and all my life people, including twerpy teenagers, have labelled me as cute. So people's first reaction to me is shock. Confusion follows because I am happy. Now a joyful, cute, tiny mother of nine simply baffles people. I shatter all their preconceived notions. The typical image of a multi-para woman would be a large, matronly, robust, grim battle-axe of a mother, efficiently marshaling her young charges with little time to coddle or love the poor deprived dears.

Parents with two children cannot fathom how a mother of a large family manages to cope with all the work to keep up a functional home as well as have enough time to love each child. However, more children are easier than less. If you have one or two children, you have to be everything for them.  In a large family, a seven-year old will read the same book over and over again to a toddler who loves one particular book. A ten-year old feels important when he can help his six-year old brother who struggles with reading. A young teenager delights in rocking a tiny, dependent infant to sleep.

For me, family started with three. I found one child horrendous, two a strain but three was easy. With three, community started. A community works and plays together and for little children work is as fun as play. I included everyone in ordinary household chores and made chores fun. A trained Montessorian told me that I ran my home like a Montessori school. What a wonderful revelation that was for me. My kids were not being deprived because I often could not sit and play with them in the traditional sense. Instead they received an expense educational experience simply because I integrated them into the running of our home.

It was never too soon to give a toddler a play job such as  picking up the toys his younger sibling drops from the high chair, again and again.The secret was to delegate, each according to his or her talents, but never to order around like troops. I always make a conspirator out of everyone. They chop wood, help fix the car, weed the garden, take care of the animals. If they're still treated like kids or overindulged, they don't have a purpose and become really angry as teenagers. When  parents let children know that their contributions are really appreciated,their self-esteem blossoms and matures
Employers love my kids because they know how to work and do not take anything for granted. Many have said,
"I will give anybody with the last name Juneau a job."

Large families strengthen the  basic foundations of our society. They live lives of greater interconnectedness. If you don't have a lot of money, you're not an island unto yourself. You learn how to share, barter skills and products with others. My children who go to college or university adapt well to communal life in a dorm or shared house. Just imagine, they already know how to share a bathroom with a lot of other people. They know how to get along with opposite personalities, how to give and take. For starters, they know how to cook and clean up after themselves.

Healthy, large families benefit society. So open your mind and heart the next time you see or hear of one. The condemnation is really hard to handle and totally unjust in a society that loves to call itself open-minded and tolerant.

Monday, 15 October 2012

Quit Trying to Dismember Me!



                                                   Being the youngest can be a trial

What happens when you live with five older sisters?
It was a beautiful fall day. The sun was already warm Although the school bus was not scheduled to pull up for another twenty minutes, six-year old Rebecca, my youngest child, already had her lunch packed in her schoolbag, the bag on her back and her shoes were even tied. In grade one, she was so excited, she could hardly wait to climb up the steps and sit with her friend on the big school bus. She started pulling the heavy kitchen door open, hoping to sneak outside for some free time before school. As the door open, I looked up.
Before I could comment, Sarah, one of her many older sisters, whipped around and remarked,
"Rebecca, did you try to do your own hair again? The part's crooked. Come over here and I'll fix it for you."
Rebecca sighed. She had barely taken a few steps towards Sarah when Claire bustled into the kitchen, stopped and looked her up and down. Claire closed her eyes and shook her head at her little sister,
"Mum couldn't have picked out those clothes for you to wear. The top doesn't match your sweater. You'll have to change polo shirts or keep that sweater buttoned up all day."
Rebecca started the slow, awkward process of doing up the buttons.
Hearing all the commotion, Mary yelled from the bathroom,
"Hey Rebecca, you forgot to brush your teeth again!"
My youngest daughter suddenly threw her arms up into the air and huffed out in exasperation,
"All right, all right everybody. Quit trying to dismember me."

Friday, 12 October 2012


A Seven-Year Old's Perspective


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"Want to know how to get a two year old to do what you want him to do?
In our large family, my children discovered how to interact with each other, without my constant intervention. They all aquirued wonderful people skills because they lived in a house with ten other very different personalities who all shared one full bathroom. Just imagine the tact it required to squeeze any sink and mirror time in the bathroom if you happened to have five or six older sisters!
Some interpersonal techniques were learned through the old trial and error method. I did not tolerate fighting or yelling among my children, so each child had to figure out which approach gained co-operation from another sibling. I was proud of their negotiating skills.

For example, one evening when Mark was seven and his brother Joseph was two, Mark sat on the floor and reached over the edge of the tub to play with his little brother who was in bubbly, warm water.
Mark turned to me and asked, "Want to know how to get a two-old to do what you want him to do?
I smiled in anticipation and nodded.

"Watch this", Mark commanded.
He asked Joseph, "Joseph, do you want the orange ball or the blue boat?"

Joseph chose the blue boat.
Hardly taking a breath, Mark asked his little brother the very same question but this time he changed the word order of his request, "Joseph, do you want the blue boat or the orange ball?"
Joseph dropped the boat and reached for the ball.
Mark turned around with a proud little smile on his face, looked at me and said, "A two-year old always choose the last thing that you say!"