Searching for the Gruffalo

This past weekend Darryl and I had the night off on Saturday. Luckily my husband works in an industry where the brand managers have way too much money to spend on marketing, and the result is often being invited to events. We seldom actually go, but this Saturday we did. We enjoyed watching the SA vs Samoa rugby at Loftus, followed by dinner and the night at Montecasino - really spoiled, that's for sure!

But as is normally the case, we can't wait to get home the following morning and jumped in our car after the incredible buffet breakfast, bound for home and our boys. As much as we appreciate some time out from night routines and sleeping with two kids wedged between us, we also really enjoy walking through the front door as our two boys run to say hello, happy to see their mom and dad.

 

This weekend our boys wanted to go searching for the Gruffalo... something we have done with them since reading the book by the same name. It isn't as complicated as it sounds, and all we basically do is go to the botanical gardens for the morning and walk up and down the koppie, looking for the Gruffalo (because he lives there m'kay?), but mostly listening out for sounds in the forest that tell us he's close.

 

We started the tradition one holiday season when money was a little tight and we simply couldn't afford to drop another R500 on entertainment. My husband was the genius behind the idea of going to the Botanical Gardens (can you say... R50 for the whole family?), and telling the children we were searching for their favourite book character seemed innocent enough. I even enjoyed making our sarmies (I did say money was tight) and packing some crisps and coolies from the pantry.

 

What started out as a cheaper option to get our children out of the house ended up being the most fun we'd had the whole holiday. Our children could run free; no more checking where they were and having to rescue them as they dangled off some or other climbing apparatus, not to mention no more coming face-to-face with the 15-year-old playing in the toddler's area of the swanky restaurant play area. We enjoyed the walk as well, and being outdoors was refreshing! Stopping mid-way to unpack our coolerbag of home made goodies was actually the cherry on top of the whole experience. It felt good and it was good. It was good for our kids, good for us and good for our pocket - no mean feat in our world today.

\Have we ever actually found the Gruffalo? Well, no. But that doesn't seem to faze the kids one bit. They just love to be set free, to run, to climb, to explore. And we love to watch them free, running, climbing and exploring - not to mention how well they sleep after... aaahhh, weekend day naps...

Searching for the Gruffalo has become our special family tradition - one that I am proud of because it fills so many of my desires as a mother. It doesn't cost a fortune, it's healthy, the boys enjoy it, and we love doing it together, as a family.

What is your family's Gruffalo?

BY Loren Stow

Things My Children Teach Me

I am going to risk it all and accept that this post is totally slushy and gooey, and is aimed directly at the heart-strings… but these thoughts have been rolling around my head for some time, demanding a voice.

A great man and philosopher once said that of all the lessons we learn in life, three are the sweetest and most life affirming – simplicity, patience and compassion. I agree. And it has taken the better part of my thirty-odd years to learn the first two (and I am still not quite there), while the latter has been somewhat easier for me.

I think that if anyone would be able to teach you these lessons, it would be a small child. Their needs demand that we simplify our own needs, and then have the patience to wait for them to be met. I wouldn’t say I was ever an extravagant person, but I was pretty used to getting what I wanted, when I wanted it, until my children came along. Since their arrival I’ve paired back on indulgences to make sure they get what they need to grow and develop, and every mother understands the patience necessary to put off a morning shower until a friend or loved one is around to watch the baby… patience and simplicity.

As for compassion, I am sure that every child teaches their parent how to see the world in a different way. Recently my second son, Harlan, has been asking me the names of total strangers wherever we go… I can’t remember the last time I wanted to know a total strangers name, if ever actually. I now see strangers as more than just shoppers at my local store, or people to share a queue with – I now know the grey-haired man with the suede overcoat is Bill and his pretty plump wife is Margaret. It is amazing how knowing a person’s name changes the way in which you see them.

But more than learning compassion from my children, I am in awe of seeing how they develop compassion themselves, despite being inevitably single-minded toddlers. Malakai is a different story altogether – I don’t know if it’s his extra chromosome or whether he is just naturally a giver, but he has always been quick to share, quick to hug, and quick to say sorry – even if it’s not him at fault. Harlan, on the other hand, is a lot less giving… I suppose typical of a three-year-old.

But as the younger brother to a child with special needs, Harlan often takes the back seat to on-going therapy and interventions, without even blinking an eye. But more than that, I have seen in him a compassion for his brother which is profoundly touching, especially when Malakai is really upset over something.

For example, haircuts – oh the drama. Malakai just cannot tolerate a haircut without a lot of tears and even guttural screams. But there is no escaping the six-monthly visit to the hairdresser. It is here that Harlan’s full quota of compassion comes to the fore as he makes gentle cooing noises and reminds Malakai of whatever amazing reward we’ve conjured up at the end of his ordeal; “You want to see the cows at the dairy Malakai? You want to?” Harlan will sing repeatedly in his tiny little-boy voice. We take turns, Harlan and I, to soothe our Malakai; me with renditions of ba-ba black sheep and Harley with eyes focussed on their mutual reward.

It is at times like these that I realise the depth of patience and compassion that lies in my sons, and my pride in being able to learn from them as much as they learn from me. As for simplicity – children do it best. They are lovers of life’s smallest details, soaking everything up and proverbially sucking the marrow out of every single day.

Children really are our teachers in life – they bring us the lessons we need, if we only open our eyes to see them, and hearts to learn them.

When was the last time you took an inventory of what your children have taught you?
 
BY Loren Stow

Go ahead and fail

What is it about being a socialised adult that makes it so hard to fail? Exactly where and when did we start to believe that mistakes are bad and we should pretend to be perfect all the time? Well it doesn’t matter now really – what does matter is this dastardly notion that mistakes and failure are simply unacceptable? And therein lies the rub – ‘unacceptable’. No one wants to be without acceptance and we all strive to have those we love tell us ‘you are ok, just as you are’.

 

Raising children is a lot like making mistakes – all day long… We make mistakes as parents; little ones (losing your child’s favourite toy, forgetting its bake day at crèche, yelling a little too loudly after a long day) and we make big ones (forgetting a doctor’s appointment, not realising your child quite as sick as they are, losing the plot over something minor…). And that’s ok, because we beat ourselves up like pros.

 

It’s when we start to see our children’s mistakes as a sign that they are bad or wrong or even more ridiculous, ‘an example of our parenting skills’… that’s when the going really gets tough.

 

I recently interviewed a mom for a story and I asked my standard ‘what do you wish for your child?’ question… and believe me I’ve heard it all… until her response. Clear as day and without a moment’s hesitation she replied “I hope my children make lots of mistakes, because otherwise how else will they learn?” Yes, right… whaaaat? I had to stop my note-taking and look her in the eye and reply in a rather hushed tone, “You know, I have never come across that before, and you know, that’s about the best thing I’ve heard when it comes to parenting, like ever!”

 

OK – so she probably thought I was nuts... Her biggest and most profound wish for her children was something that I (and many other parents) want to avoid like the plague. We are supposed to ensure our children do only the right things. We are supposed to make sure they are safe (don’t mistakes increase the likelihood of serious bodily harm, statistically?). We are supposed to measure our worth as parents by the number of times our children succeed, not fail! Right? You with me?

 

No?

 

Because it is not meant to be that way at all is it? How can we expect our children to learn anything if they’re not allowed to make mistakes along the way? There is a reason that ‘learn by trial and error’ is a real life saying folks!

 

Well, I feel better now and instead of being the ‘mistake police’ I can be a mother, wife and person of the world. I can hang up my ‘judge and jury’ badge, kick off my shoes, and relax a little. That is about the best news I’ve had in a long time!

 

BY Loren Stow