Tantrums are Beautiful

I was going to post next about finding continuum spaces in the public, where my child and I can be with our community. But my son had a tantrum which I feel compelled to share about.  This blog is not just about how I'm reviving the continuum, but also how I'm consciously living in the continuum, which includes caring for my child, and being with him.

A few days back, after a very active day out, I felt tired and wanted to rest while Karthik napped. But Karthik got up and wanted to nurse.  I  told him I couldn't nurse him, and asked him to join me on the couch.  He climbed in with  me but couldn't get comfortable, complaining that the blanket was too small, the pillow wasn't in the right place, etc.  Frustrated, he started crying, and again asked to nurse.



I stopped nursing him three months ago. Since then, he has asked to nurse occasionally, but only half seriously, and sometimes jokingly (although he would still be nursing if he could). But on this day he was serious. Why this longing came up on this day I'm not sure. But funnily he had just turned three.  His crying still sometimes starts out like a baby's whimpering, with bottom lip protruding pitifully. This is how he cried on this afternoon when I said I couldn't nurse him.  It was heartbreaking. I felt his sense of rejection and loss for his babyhood.  I said, "I can hold you close to me." He said no. "I can give you goat milk."  No! And his weeping quickly turned into loud unrestrained wailing. He got angry that I took his pull-up diaper off (which was wet), and demanded I put it back on (I had torn it off from the sides).  At this point I knew I wouldn't be getting my nap. Plus he kept yanking my blanket off.  Oh was I tired and chilly. But here was my angry child, sitting on top of a me, trying to get me to put a broken wet diaper back on him.  He became more enraged when I tried to pull the blanket back over me.  He continued to demand to nurse. Once more I told him I couldn't.  He said he needed it and started desperately biting his fingers (not hard), which was all at once strange, interesting, and sad to see. I teared up a little, knowing I had taken something sweet and precious away from him before he was ready, rather than allowing him to ween on his own. But I had needed to ween him when I did. This may be another post, "Weening outside of continuum societies." 



 Karthik got physical, pushing me hard. I firmly held my ground.  A few times he ended up pulling my hair while trying to move my hands away to nurse. I was trying to free my hair strands and cover myself, and then he slapped me. I covered my face in case he would do it again, but he quickly hugged me. I was a bit shaken by the slap, but I guess he was too.  He was still crying. Still demanding to nurse. I got up and got him some goat milk. Always does the trick when he does want to nurse. But he threw it. Impatience surged up in me as I grabbed a rag (I keep them handy) and started wiping the mess. I was wiping hard.  Still crying hard, he begged me to pick him up.  I said "not now" and continued to wipe.  He continued crying "godi godi," which means "lap" in Hindi, but we also use it for "in arms."  I stopped wiping, and looked at him, his arms outstretched in desperation as he continued to wail in anguish. I picked him up.  It felt so good to hold him close to me.  I sat down with him and quietly watched him. As he cried and cried, I felt the vibrations.   I didn't offer him anything, nor did I soothe him.  I continued to be with him.  Eventually, his crying started to soften, and then subsided.



He rested his head on my chest, breathing unevenly. He had pushed me, shoved me, slapped me, thrown goat milk, and now I felt him quietly bathing in my pure acceptance. I told him that he had gotten angry, and that we all get angry sometimes. I mentioned different people who we know, saying they each get angry sometimes, including myself.  He was silent and continued to rest on me. Several  minutes later, he looked up at me and said "Daddy also gets angry sometimes." I said "Hmm?"  Then he said "Mommy also gets angry," and continued naming other friends, family and neighbors who "also get angry sometimes." I smiled. "Yeah. everyone does sometimes."



Like most toddlers, Karthik gets upset at times.  His upsets are usually short outbursts, but this upset was longer and more intense.   Whether short or long, I love to be with Karthik during his upset.  My unspoken message is, "You are allowed to be upset. I'm right here."



The anguish of a small child is so intense and unrestrained (until sadly, she learns to repress it). Looking at little ones cry, I often chuckle inside (sometimes a smile creeps on my face).  It's sweet and funny to me. The suddenness of it. The openness of it. The contorted mouth. "Waaahhh!"  But what’s amazing to observe is how the child goes from this intensity, where the world is coming apart, to being completely over it and back to playing gleefully, or chattering away, ever friendly-like.

Babies and small children fully get over their pain, and this continues as they get older, if they are allowed to fully go through their pain. 



As a mother, living in the continuum means being present to my child. Allowing my child to be. Sure I lose patience, especially when there is mischief (and this too will be another post). But overall I enjoy upsets, whether short outbursts, or a full out tantrum.  That afternoon, when I stopped complaining in my head that I wasn’t getting to rest, I very much enjoyed being with my extremely upset child, as he cried and cried his heart out.  Sitting with him like that, I got my rest.  It sounds strange, but I know being with him during this time is healing for him, as it is for me. It's simple. Nothing needs to be fixed. 



There is no better gift one can give to a child than allowing her to be.



Later that evening I was relating this event to my husband when Karthik looked up from his play.  I said "Karthik, anger had taken over you earlier today, right?  He said "Yah" reflecting with a thoughtful smile. My husband asked, "What did you do?" He said "I cry sooo much." Then my husband asked why, and I thought Karthik was going to say because he couldn't' nurse, but instead he said "Because......" and looked off nowhere in particular, and then suddenly said "Weeeeeee!!" as he went off being a helicopter, and then doing one of his familiar little victory jigs.  




I imagine, as Jean Liedloff, author of Continuum Concept observed, that there are few if any tantrums in Yequanna culture. In her article: "The Unhappy Consequences of being Child-Centered," Jean says: 



The crucial difference is that the Yequana are not child-centered. They may occasionally nuzzle their babies affectionately, play peek-a-boo, or sing to them, yet the great majority of the caretaker's time is spent paying attention to something else...not the baby!... Thus, Yequana babies find themselves in the midst of activities.. 

 

Mothers carry about their activities. Children, while well cared for, are not the focus of attention, but just a part of the adult world. With less attention directly on them, they are less prone to getting upset. Their innate need to be a part of the lively adult world, and a community, is met. In most western cultures, and certainly in the DC metro, it is the opposite.  Mothers’ lives revolve around their children's lives. Story time, “mommy and me” and kiddie activities abound.  It is more challenging in our culture not to be child-centered.  But it certainly can be done, and I've seen it. More so in people of other cultures, who have their community.

As much as possible, I have always carried on with my own activities and let Karthik be a part of everything. It has been wonderful.  Karthik and I have a strong bond and playfulness, which is also why he is quite independent and off doing his own thing.  This liberates me to an extent. But, in a culture where families dwell in isolation, where mothers don't have a tribe or community to be with,  where adult human resources aren’t readily available (who the mother knows and trusts),  it is hard to not be somewhat child-centered.   When mother (or father) and child regularly are alone for periods (usually in the home), the child will naturally need their adult more, for help, company, to play with, etc.  For who else do they have?  Babies are social beings. With siblings there can be less neediness, of course, since they have each other.  But mothers are also social beings and need community. Yet any  mother knows it's not easy to get out of the house. Things come up. Having just one other adult around makes a huge difference, but that's not the case for many of us.  

In our culture, where we are isolated within our dwellings, we tend to have children who are more prone to getting upset. They are missing out on community.

I enjoy my small community of mama and papa friends almost daily, and a more diverse community on weekends, and some evenings. But still, there are periods each day where Karthik and I are alone, usually at home.  It has gotten easier for me because he plays so well on his own now.  And I'm growing my community all around me.  But there are times when I would like some help, and/or a break, and I don't have it. It was much more challenging when Karthik was younger and nursed a lot (understatement).  But since his birth, I have done little things to live in the continuum in my home, to help Karthik be a part of our adult world. He mostly quite enjoys his time at home.

Our little ones are growing up in a child-centered society, which isn’t meeting their innate need to be a part of the adult world. So... there will be tantrums, and frustrations of various degrees that come up.  But each upset, big or small... is an opportunity to allow a child to be. 


What is the Continuum?

During my pregnancy I read the book Continuum Concept, by Jean Liedloff, which brought to surface primordial desires in me. To care for my little babe, and allow this being to be. To be part of a close-knit community.  To care for children, sisters, brothers, and elders. And to be cared for.  To do physical labor with others. To enjoy camaraderie. To nurture the earth.

Whatever interest or concerns I had about parenting vanished.

On a quiet afternoon in March 2011, I gave birth to my son in my bedroom, with the help of midwives, doula, and my dear husband, who kept feeding me raw coconut water which I couldn't get enough of.

Caring for my child has felt completely natural, and so beautiful to me. I don't think there's a better gift one can give someone, than allowing that person to be. I get to give this gift to my son over and over.  It is easier with him, an innocent babe, but I am learning to give this gift to myself, and to the other "grown up" children in my life, who deserve it just as much.

People people everywhere, but not a soul to know.

But it wasn't until I became a mother that I realized how isolated we are in the DC metro area.  Or maybe I knew this, but after becoming a mother I really felt the impact.  Where we live, we are surrounded by people, our neighbors. Yet we hardly know them, or don't at all.  This is true for most cities and suburbs across the U.S.   In an interview of Mark Layman at the  Whole Earth Summit, co-founder of City Repair Project (which I just heard this morning), he said American communities suffer isolation like no one on Earth.  He believes that it is because people in our society don't think they have much in common with each other.  I guess that comes with diversity, and such different ways of thinking about things. According to Mark, "we have lost the commons."

"Stay at home Moms" (SAHMs), and caretakers of any kind who are at home, feel this isolation most deeply. Perhaps also the elderly. Or anyone who is not part of an office, work or school environment where they see the same people daily for that matter.  But the isolation is felt on some level by almost everyone. It just gets masked by the busyness. Going from one place to another, doing this or that, "to-do" lists, texting, TV, and addictions to various forms of stimulation. For some, socialization is met in school or work, which may be like a second family.  Socialization is also met by making a phone call to a friend, or going out somewhere, or getting together with friends. By the time people get home, they are too tired to get to know the one who lives next door, or who's window is facing theirs. 

For the truly isolated, there are support groups, many of them on-line. But the SAHM "community" consists of.. SAHMs. The elderly community consists of the elderly, etc.  I thought of places where I had visited in India, where rich tapestries of community exist.  Young and old are together. Neighbors doors are open. Openness and togetherness is the culture. Even the local "stray" dogs and cats are given some roti (aka chappati) or milk by neighbors.  It seemed like everyone is cared for.

A rich, caring community is the backbone of a society. By rich, I mean where people readily "adopt" each other as sons, daughters, aunties, uncles, mothers, fathers, brothers, sisters, grandmothers, grandfathers, as well as adopt the little chirpy birds, crows, cows, trees, dandelions, stink bugs, butterflies, lizards, crickets, bees..and whoever and whatever else is around.  Here in the DC metro, where individualism and privacy prevail, we are seriously lacking in the vital strength that community brings. 

Almost any mother in the DC area will tell you, whether they have one child or more, that being a mother is wonderful, but also really tough. It's actually "unnaturally" tough, because we are doing it alone.   For most mothers, easy access to adult human resources (who the mother knows and trusts), is incredibly scarce. Some people are lucky to have close family nearby.  While others wish their family could provide more help.  Sadly, because our culture values independence, many women want to be able to do it all on their own, which makes it hard for them to ask for help, or accept help when it is offered.  Others are afraid to ask because they are worried they may be burdening another.  This isn't a surprise when everyone is stretched so thin, human resource wise. But this mentality of intruding, imposing, or being a burden, comes from an individualistic culture, which easily creates a feeling of scarcity.  As a result, mothers suffer inside, and when mothers suffer, their children and families suffer.  In his article called "Children Need Community," Peter Gray says:

Children are not designed, by nature, to attach just to the mother, or just to the mother and father. They are, for good biological reasons, designed to form multiple attachments, to many of the people in a community.  It is important to recognize here that the private nuclear family, living in a house apart from others in the community, is, from an evolutionary perspective, an unnatural environment.

He further makes some important points:

A too-exclusive attachment of child and parent is not only unfair to the child but can also be burdensome to the mother (it usually is the mother, not the father).  There is nothing natural about the idea that a woman should stop other activities and devote herself exclusively to children and domestic chores when she becomes a mother.  Hunter-gatherer mothers continue their foraging activities, and continue to socialize fully with the other adults of the band and with neighboring bands.  Motherhood does not isolate them; if anything, it ties them even more closely to everyone in the band, as they all enjoy relationships with the child.

The video below is about natural building with cob, a mix of dirt, straw and clay.  However, it is about much more than cob. Ultimately it is about community.  It is unfortunate that most of the cities and suburbs across the U.S. were not designed to bring people together on a daily basis on a neighborhood and very local level. Watch at 55:20, and 57:15.

We all need a caring community to truly thrive. While it's unfortunate that this backbone is missing in our society (for most of us), we can do something about it. THIS is what we have in common, a longing to be together.

The word continuum, in Continuum Concept, feels to me like "togetherness" and "living with presence." It is the way we used to live, and many still do around the world.

When I am home cleaning the dishes, cooking, cutting veggies, doing laundry, while my child is nearby playing, I often hum or sing. I imagine in the continuum people working together rhythmically, singing, or laughing, while the children freely play.  People move with a natural ease, and walk with a rhythmic gate.  Every movement is purposeful. The body is properly aligned (no slouching), so that digestion and all organs in the body work optimally.  Facial expressions are usually relaxed. Not only do people work together, they also party, celebrating life with music and movement. 

Children are always there, part of the adult world. 

In the continuum, human resources abound. When someone needs help or has a challenge, it's everyone's concern.  They figure out how to help that person. In fact, help is given without asking (when it is obviously needed of course), in big ways, and in many small ways, to make things easier for each person, and is accepted by the one who needs it as if it's their right. No one is ever alone trying to do it all.  Nor are their rigid deadlines for doing things. Time is not of the essence and life is not taken seriously.

This reminds me of what a friend from India once told me.  She was not from an indigenous culture, or even a village. But the culture in India is more open. When my friend was little, her mother stayed at home, and the mother next door had to work. So the neighbor's kids would stay at my friend's house.  There was no money exchange for this. It was simply that one of the mothers had to work, so who would watch the kids. It was not just a problem of that family, but the concern and duty of the people who lived around that family to help.  Plus my friend's mother had plenty of human resources available so it was no big deal. And my friend and her sister had playmates who they grew up with.  This scenario is harder to imagine in the DC metro suburbs, where we don't know our neighbors.

In the continuum, there is a knowing, that we are social beings. That we are perfect the way we are. This means that people let people be, not willing each other in any way.  Along these lines, there is no need to "socialize" children. Complaints in the mind are rare, so energy is free-flowing in the body. People have good energy.   

In the continuum, there is postpartum joy.

Not only does a woman feel capable and natural as a mother, carrying her baby on her hip while she carries on with her business, but support is readily available for her and she herself is cared for and nurtured by other women.  Mothers breastfeed anywhere, anytime, nourishing their babies tummies and souls. There is no shame. It's beautiful and natural to see.  Women give birth in peace, at home, or wherever it feels most comfortable. 

In the continuum, people live close to the earth. Nourishing foods are eaten, prepared using traditional wisdom, to make them easily digestible and the nutrients bioavailable.  One knows where their food comes from.  Milk comes straight from a cow or goat raised with kindness and reverence, on green pasture. Meals are shared.  What's mine is yours. What's available in the natural environment is used wisely.  The rhythms of nature are closely observed and there is great reverence for the earth, and the basic elements that support life.

If what I'm describing above sounds like an indigenous culture to you, you're right.  Indigenous cultures are the original cultures, which formed based on ways in which people adapted to the climate and ecology of the area. The Yequanas, who live in the rainforests of Venezuela, are living in the continuum. That is because their culture is untouched and goes back to the Stone Age. This is the natural way to live.

In many ways, American culture has lost the continuum. Expert advice of course has it's place. But as mothers and fathers, we have come to rely so heavily on it, no longer listening to our intuition to do what we have done with such ease for millennia.  But in observing the indigenous cultures, we can remember who we are. We don't need to be Yequanas to live in the continuum. Whether you are living in the rainforests of Venezuela, or the suburbs of America, or anywhere on this globe, you have access to the continuum. We are all continuum mamas and papas, when we are still. We know what needs to be done, and how to care for ourselves, the earth, and each other.   Expert advice is mostly needed only when we step out of the continuum, no longer trusting ourselves.

There are many people in our country reviving the continuum, one of them being Mark Lakeman, (in video above) who has done tremendous work (google him).  You can learn about a lot of the work being done by going to the Whole Earth Summit website.  Any one of us can revive the continuum in our own ways, in our own neck of the woods. This, I believe, is the best thing we can do for ourselves, our children, and for each other. I started this blog to share how I am living in and reviving the continuum, and creating postpartum joy where i live, in the DC metro suburbs.  Maybe my sharing will inspire some of you try it out as well.