I was struck by some words I recently read in “Guerilla Learning” by Grace Llewelyn and Amy Silver.  Talking about the importance of recognising our children’s interests, the authors tell us:

“Recognise your kids.  Pay attention to them.  Acknowledge them.  Know them better than they know themselves.  It feels deep-down good to be really seen by people we love and who love us…

“Sometimes when we pay attention to our older children, they seem to want to shut us out at times.  But more often than not their defensive gestures are a sham, a test: Do you really love me enough to stay interested in me, even when I’m a snotty brat? Is your love unconditional? Older kids very much want to be known.  That desire may co-exist (and seem to conflict) with their being embarrassed by you in the presence of their peers, with anger, with their desire for autonomy.  But it’s pervasive and strong  – and you recognise that in your own life, right? You want your own parents to know you deeply and to accept and love you for exactly who you are even now, as an adult.”

When I first read this, the words registered most in the context of my relationship with my own mother, but today at C’s football practice they came to mind afresh.  As she left the pitch I put an arm round her shoulders and asked if she’d enjoyed the game, only to have the arm shaken off and find myself warned by a growling C, “Don’t embarrass me!”  Llewellyn and Silver’s words in my ears, I made a gracious retreat and followed C at a respectful distance to the end-of-session presentations -where C was the smiling recipient of the “Player Of The Week” trophy, awarded, according to the coaches, to the player demonstrating “the kind of attitude we want to see among our players”.

As we drove home and C’s blood sugar level began to return to normal thanks to the jam sandwiches I’d thrust in her hands, I silently awarded myself the “player’s mum of the week” award.

Over the last few days, since I started home educating both my children (having had my son at home for nine months already) I’ve been asked several times variations on the questions “How can you spend all day with your children?” and “What about time for you?”  Which I appreciate, as they have helped me find the following answers for myself:

(1) Many women work full or part time outside the home, because they want to, or for financial reasons. They may have the “time away from the children” part of the equation (sometimes more than they would like), but combined with running a home, most probably don’t have a great deal of that “you time” people have been so concerned about on my account.  I’m not saying I’d turn down the chance of an occasional hour with a book in Starbucks or an afternoon browsing the shops on my own, but on balance I consider myself incredibly priviledged to be able to spend so much of my time with the people I love most. (And there are always weekends!)

(2) Spending “all day” with both my children is so much easier than spending the stressed, grumpy time around the edges of school with them.  Despite a wonderfully full schedule (which today included, for example, driving 40 minutes to a group guitar lesson, a trip to an adventure playground, and swimming lessons) we are all so much less tired and grumpy than we were when C was at school.  I can’t really explain why yet, but it’s definitely true.  Perhaps it’s that C and J are getting on so much better (like they used to at the end of the school holidays compared with at the start) or because, without the pressures of school, C is so much less stressed, or some other reason, but the answer to “how can you spend all day with them?” is easy – for most of the day I’m  in “flow“, and when I’m in flow, there’s nowhere I’d rather be, nothing else I’d rather be doing, and no-one I’d rather be doing it with.