Sit outside. Write something.
This morning I woke up. Late. On purpose. I took a shower. My youngest kiddo asked if I could make cloud waffles. My eldest wanted a tofu, mushroom, onion scramble. My partner had already taken the recycling out.
I spent the late morning cooking. I made cloud waffles with wild blueberries. A delightful scramble. My youngest enjoyed mushrooms for the first time since I made him fried puffball five years ago. My eldest sat with my youngest and they gently chatted about their day yesterday, and their future.
My partner came down to get some food and give me a hug.
My dog asked if we could take her for a walk. My youngest and I walked around our neighbourhood and our pup made a lovely new friend in the gentle shape of a woman in her late 70s.
Then we came home and I cleaned as much of I could have the mess while my youngest put away the dishes.
Then I said, I need to go outside and sit, and write, that’s my assignment for the day.
It’s a stunning spring day. The sun is shining. The breeze is soft. The air cool on my skin while the sun is warm.
This is my view. A backyard about to be made secret garden.
This is me trying to take a picture of myself pondering all the ways to make this yard a magical place.
Yesterday was a big day. The kids tried a new school.
I spent the day hopeful. I tried not to think about the future beyond the moment I was in.
And when I picked up the kids at 3pm and saw my eldest, the colour drained from his face not trying to mask his feelings at all, I knew that he’d not found his place.
And we sat at a picnic table while we waited for his brother to get out.
My youngest, five minutes later, came out surrounded my wondrous young humans, and he was smiling, but his smile was the one he does when he’s trying to please the people around him. He looked at me, he looked at the car, and I knew he wanted to talk in private.
As a neurodivergent family we have learned to speak in small quiet signals so that we don’t disturb the humans around us. We have mostly relegated our meltdowns to home, and spaces away. We have learned to mask and hold our breath and ground ourselves until we can find somewhere safe to cry, to ball our fists, to jump up and down, to pace, and to sort our feelings. We have learned that it isn’t safe to do this in most spaces.
So yesterday we went to the car.
And it all tumbled out. We drove 42km to a cake fridge on the side of the road in another small town.
And I listened. And both my children expressed that though the school did indeed seem like a magical place for the children there…that they were done trying to fit in, for now. That they didn’t believe that space was a fit for them.
I listened. And though I had been so hopeful because that school was exactly a fit for me…I heard them.
So we had a family meeting last night, and altogether we decided that we’d help them get their high school equivalency. I’d help them with the arts/humanities. My partner would help them with history/philosophy and their dad would help with math and science. My youngest would teach us all geography/social studies and my eldest would keep us up to date on pop culture and current technologies.
…and honestly, I think we all sighed a collective sigh of relief. School has been a constant struggle. The kids have had some good times, but predominantly it has caused so much unnecessary stress for all of us.
…and so for now, this is what we will do. It not be forever, but this gentle certainty of this moment is enough. And having a whole family agree on a thing and agree to do it together feels pretty damn good.
What difference a single day can make.
Heart,
Wake
I really like the idea of each family member teaching everyone else their particular specialty. It seems like a good way for everyone to get a well-rounded education.
If I had had such great support and the option, I would have left institutional learning too. Glad you are all now free from it. Here's to an enriching learning experience in an environment of love and whimsy