Money, money, money, mon-ey

This started out as a comment on an unschooling forum. I think it works as a standalone post too, and it's LONG, so I'm saving it.

Our kids are 19 and 20. The older one doesn't live at home right now but soon will again. We support both of them financially. Come September, they will both be in college, which we are paying for right now but which will eventually need to become a group effort. They each get a weekly no-strings allowance, which they don't have to do chores to earn and which they spend on whatever they want.

That's our situation.

Our philosophy is one of cooperation and sharing, with a healthy dose of ignoring society's arbitrary, different-from-country-to-country rules about the ages by which kids **should** be doing certain things like driving cars, paying their own way, moving out, and so on. Society doesn't get to decide those things, we do.

The ways this philosophy has paid off are many, and somewhat immeasurable.

Where to start? The biggest benefit has turned out to be that they get a modicum of relief from the pressure they are under -- that ALL kids are under, no matter what their parents say and do -- to become independent adults. Our kids talk to us, so I can see that this pressure is staggering and probably worse than any "gotta earn a living" pressure they will feel later in life. ANYTHING I can do to ease that pressure and give them a little breathing room to "figure this shit out" is a good thing. We reassure them repeatedly that there is no hurry. They don't cost more now than they did at 13 or 15 or last year. We know we can afford this lifestyle, just as it is, which means we can joyfully continue to be a safe haven for them as long as it takes them to find their paths.

Do I think I will still have kids living with me five years from now? Judging by their personalities and by what their older unschooling friends have done, the answer is, sadly, no. I'm on Empty Nest Watch whether I like it or not.

The other benefits are more, well, ordinary, and the reasons we went with the no-strings allowance to begin with. They got to practice budgeting and math and learn what it feels like to have money on payday and be broke by the end of the pay period. And Frank and I got to stop always being the bad-guy money decisionmakers. "Can I have this?" they still ask, and all we have to say is, "It's your money."

If you want a little friendly feedback, your setup [kids do chores to earn allowance, with commentary about kids beginning to pay their own way at 16] sounds pretty stressful and somewhat adversarial! All that keeping track. All that wondering about where YOU should draw the line. Don't draw any lines. Figure out what the allowance is, hand it over with a smile, and then sit back and watch *them* figure out where the lines are and how to make the most of what they have. I bet they'll surprise you. (I should tell you sometime about the $5 megaton of candy the girls bought.)

When they make mistakes -- and they will, we all do -- I make purchasing mistakes all the freaking time *g* -- don't say, "See! I told you this wouldn't work!" Instead, recognize that it HAS worked. Mistakes lead to learning. If they buy too many potions and lose them [on a gaming site where cyber items are purchased for real money], they will learn how yucky it feels to get nothing for their money.

I have lots more to say but this is a novel already. Here are a couple of relevant posts from my blog:

http://zombieprincess.blogspot.com/2010/06/stuff-and-money-and-space.html

http://zombieprincess.blogspot.com/2010/05/date-with-reality.html

The red badge of unschooling

From time to time, one encounters people who really, really want to call themselves unschoolers. In some cases, they do this even though their lifestyles are way off the mark. "We're unschoolers," they say, even as they sit their kids down for lessons. Or they say, "We unschool on the weekends." Other times, the lines are fuzzier, and the people claiming the label are so close to what I consider real unschooling, but they can't quite let go of x, y, and z. So they cling to both the label and to x, y, and z.

People in either of these categories will occasionally be challenged by someone to live up to the label they are claiming. In certain forums on the Internet, they will be challenged with vigor.

That's side A.

On side B is an online friend of mine who recently rejected the label of unschooler. She did this not because she grew to dislike the term (as some unschoolers do) and not because she's doing anything more schoolish than she was before. What happened was, she got tired of feeling guilty for living her life the way she wants to live her life.

As someone who has issues with guilt, I can understand her decision. (Living up to unschooling ideals can be work, and there do come times when you want to stop all the work and just live.) And as someone who is weary of the side-A people who insist on using label when they reject one or more of the ideals, I found her approach quite refreshing.

Personally, I love calling myself an unschooler, and the pressure and ideals that come with the label are a big part of why. The pressure and ideals keep me mindful. They keep me on my toes, and they keep me aware during my interactions with my kids—and with other people's kids for that matter.

Putting together side A and side B leads me to offer these guidelines:

If you want to do whatever you do and call it unschooling, people are going to challenge your use of the term from time to time. If you don't want to be challenged, find another label, or do like my friend and live without one.

If you keep the label, use it. Use it to question yourself and your assumptions. Use it to help you give your kids the benefit of the doubt, always. Use it to help you say Yes more. Use it as pressure to tolerate the discomfort that comes from having your kids make choices that you wouldn't have made for them. Use it to encourage you to choose the kind, generous, cooperative thing in every interaction. And use it to inspire you to go after more of the benefits that real unschooling offers.

Values

I started to write this post as if it's definitively about unschooling, but "unschooling" means different things to different people. Even "radical unschooling"—which refers to the freedom-of-choice parenting that goes along with unschooling for many of us—means different things to different people. I've gotten into trouble (conflicts) in the past when I insisted on a rigid definition of either term. While I continue to be puzzled about why someone would insist on claiming a label that does not really apply to them, I can occasionally, momentarily, acknowledge that some people are simply operating under different definitions than I am.

So let's leave labels out of it and talk instead about values.

We all have 'em. Some values we hold passionately and can defend at great length. Others we inherited from our society or from our parents and live by without giving them much thought. Some of my personal values are represented by some of the labels I accept for myself (liberal, atheist, omnivore, wife, mom, employee—just to name a few), and some of them, as noted above, resist accurate labeling.

One of the biggies in that last category is this:

I value my children's freedom to determine their own values.

I have been called on the carpet over the conspicuous consumption illustrated by my I'm that mom post. In the comments on my follow-up to that post, I responded some to the specifics of that example. I could respond more (and maybe I'm about to) about the factors that led us to decide that trip was okay—that it was MJ's big move-out trip and she was very excited, that the second trip to Oregon wasn't set in stone, that the additional consumption I might really have added to our life was Chloe's return trip home on a train that would have made the trip anyway—and I could talk about what solutions I think might really have a chance of stopping our species' headlong race to self-destruction.

But the thing is, even if I believed we should all reduce our consumption (and I do, even as I doubt it will do much good), and even if the trip decision were exactly as cut-and-dried as I implied in my "I'm that mom" post, I would have made the same decision.

MJ and Chloe know the environmental concerns. They know the time-and-money concerns. And they still enthusiastically chose as they did. And knowing all that, if I had said, "No, we're not doing this because it's not the most environmentally conscious choice," I would be IMPOSING my values on them. If I am the ultimate arbiter of what is an acceptable level of consumption, then in my opinion it's not unschooling and it is a complete violation of one of my most deeply held values.

Living by this value means that I, an omnivore, have had a vegetarian daughter. It means that I, an unschooler, have had a daughter in school—twice! It means that I, an atheist, have a Wiccan daughter. It means that my daughters make purchases that I wish they wouldn't, get piercings (and eventually tattoos) that I wish they wouldn't, spend their time engaged in a few activities that I wish they wouldn't, go off for weeks or months at a time when I wish they'd stay home, move out earlier than I wish they would, and just generally make life choices that I would not necessarily be making for them if I were in charge.

This is something that ALL parents face. Do you really think my mom expected to raise a tattooed atheist unschooler?! Hardly! (Although I think she's mostly okay with it.)

The difference is that I have simply and deliberately chosen to allow my values and my kids' values to diverge before they are adults. Part of my value system is a belief that one doesn't have to be 18 or older to recognize one's own values. And part of what went into my value system is the knowledge that kids who have values imposed on them often end up going in the exact opposite direction. By valuing the things I value and letting them make their own value judgments, even as children and especially as teens, I believe I have provided them with the information that I used to come around to my values without creating an adversarial or guilt-laden environment that might have driven them away from them. For me, that trumps everything else.

a bit more

I'm that mom

Inspired by Flo's delicious post here. It's an impromptu blog carnival! Join in!

I'm that mom who drives 500 miles because her kids want to see their friends, because her kids don't feel like riding the train again, because her kids want to go now instead of in a couple of weeks when the trip could be combined with another trip. I'm that mom who knows it's a frivolous, indulgent, even "stupid" thing to do but does it anyway.

Why not? We can. We have the time, the money, the free lodging when we get there (thanks, friends), and, whether we are aware of it or not, the energy. We as a family end up with more trips together, more good times on the road rocking or talking, more fun. Frank and I end up with more much needed time with our friends, too, and the good feeling that comes from doing the kind thing. And the girls end up with more driving practice, more familiarity with a long stretch of freeway that is likely to be part of their lives forever, and (most important of all) more awareness that they are supported in their lives, even when what they want is frivolous, indulgent, or even "stupid."

It's a good trade.

Update 7/29: Be sure to check out the links in the comments. The response to this has been amazing! My original thought was that we would each pick one little example of how we are that mom or dad, but some people really ran with it and ended up outlining the core tenets of unschooling. And as things wound down, Flo chimed in again with this amazing piece that put the cherry on top of her breakfast ice cream.

Get your art! Mary made us stinkin' badges. Link to this post or one of Flo's.
Moms
Dads

Stuff and money and space

Most of us have an innate desire for stuff that starts at the exact moment we become aware of stuff. My babies, as many babies do, started reaching for stuff at four months. We saw this early desire for stuff as natural and healthy, and we happily put stuff where the baby could reach it and took great delight in each fumbling grab. Most parents are the same.

It is only as our kids get a little older, as the stuff that they desire extends beyond the teething rings and cloth books that we joyfully provided, that their desire for stuff becomes problematic. Then, their desire is suddenly attached to money and space. As experienced acquirers of stuff, we parents see very clearly the money-and-space pitfalls of the bottomless pit that our kids' desires seem to encompass.

We know something they don't know.

That is such a tricky spot to be in! Indeed, it is the crux of most conflicts between parent and child. They want X, and we know that X will lead to undesirable consequences 1, 2, and 3. We know, for crying out loud! We know! Are we supposed to just stand by and let them blunder their way into those consequences?! Are we supposed to just stand by and allow them to drag us into those consequences with them?!

Yep.

We can certainly offer our perspective. We can share our experience. We can warn. But as unschoolers, as thinking parents, as people who believe that kids are people, we simply don't get to pull out the "I'm the parent and I know best" card.

I know what you're thinking: Why didn't I take the blue pill? Heh. Too late now, sorry!

When it comes to the acquisition of stuff, standing by while your kids choose means two things:

One: Your kids will make purchases that you do not agree with.

Two: You will have to live with that.

Both of these are easier to navigate with a stuff-and-money-and-space system in place. The system needs to reflect your lifestyle and income, and it needs to evolve as the kids get older and as other cirumstances change.

Here's our system:

Stuff - The kids choose. Period.

When they were young, I used to do a lot of coaching about choices. "If you buy that, you won't be able to buy this." This coaching may or may not have been helpful for a while, but they both quickly reached the point where it was bugging the hell out of them. "You take all the fun out of it!" they told me. Oops.

Money - We give our kids a weekly no-strings allowance.

The amount has varied over the years, and there have been lean stretches where we were all going without spending money. Right now, they're getting $15 per week.

When they were little, this allowance was a lifesaver. It completely removed me from the "Can I have this? Can I have that?" mom-as-bad-guy cycle.

Now that they're teenagers... Guess what? $15 per week is not really enough money. They have things they want to buy and experiences they want to have that will take more. Frank and I will help as much as we can, but my kids know that they will have to work to earn the more. They are making plans accordingly.

I want to be crystal clear on this: I have said "Yes" to my kids for years. I have "indulged" them in virtually everything. I have simply handed over as much money as we could afford every week for longer than we've been unschooling. I have made it clear to them that we will continue to support them beyond age 18 if they want us to. And even so, my kids are developing financial independence even as we speak. There's been a really interesting shift in the way they manage money over the last year or two that is worth its own blog post.

For now, I'll just say that people who think kids won't learn the value of money unless there are chores-strings on their allowances are just wrong.

Benefits of the no-strings allowance:
* Practice
* Built-in math
* Independence
* Experience

It's gold. And it doesn't have to cost you any more than you already spend.

Space - Where do we put everything?

There are a couple of myths about space. It helps if you reject these.

• Myth #1: More space or better organization would make everything easier. We have a three-bedroom, two-and-a-half story house with a lot of storage space. We've acquired a lot of storage containers over the years. Frank has built several bookcases. Stuff can still be an issue. No matter how much room you have, it tends to fill up, and you will periodically need to make adjustments. Over the years, we've rearranged rooms, swapped rooms, and tried a bunch of different stuff-management schemes. It's ongoing.
• Myth #2: Kids' stuff should fit into their bedrooms. This belief is a relic of traditional parenting. Toss it out! If each member of the family gets equal space in the house, who is really taking up more than his or her share? It's usually not the kids.
• Myth #3: If you had less stuff, the house would be tidier. We're unschoolers. We live here. We're home a lot. You can tell.
• Myth #4: Your kids will share your values about stuff and money. MJ spends a good portion of her money on clothes. Chloe has a sizable savings account. I cannot say either of those things about myself. Our values—and the stuff we value—are different. Simplicity and frugality may not ever describe your child. That's okay. Love the kid you have. Accept the kid you have.
• Myth #5: It's going to be like this forever. Once upon a time, we probably had 250 cubic feet of Barbie stuff in our house. I kid you not. Now? Barbie occupies less than one cubic foot. Every single Barbie item that has left our house has done so not only with my daughters' permission but with their blessing. We have made several other little girls very happy over the last several years.
  
  I am so glad to be able to say those things, so glad that we embraced (or at least tolerated) and made room for the Barbie collection until they were done with it.
  
  And there's a pang, too. Did I appreciate my little Barbie-playing girls enough while they were here? I don't think I did. I don't think I really knew how fleeting those moments were going to be.
  
  Whatever stuff your child is acquiring now, she will eventually be done with it. Probably. But even if she's never done with it, storing it will eventually be her problem. :-)

I like our system, but it is just one approach. As with everything else in the entire freaking world, the What To Do is less important than the How To Do. Handle your child's stuff or money or space choices as you would handle his choices about TV or reading or racing the wind: with joy, with "Yes," and with an underlying belief that his choices are valid and valuable.

Transitioning from the traditional

Since I posted the notes from our circle chat, I have received a couple of questions about transitioning out of traditional parenting. One person wanted to know what unschooler parenting looks like, and another wanted to know how to move beyond traditional parenting.

Really excellent questions.

For me, moving beyond traditional parenting has been, and continues to be, a process. It started when my kids were very young, when I began letting go of control in small ways. I think the experimenting I did during that time was a vital part of the process for me. I had to try it, and I had to see it "work," meaning I had to see marked improvement in our family life. And it did work, and it worked so quickly. Things got better. I was rewarded.

But more than that, I began to see things differently. Without consciously trying for it, my perspective shifted. It was the first of several such shifts.

For most people, a shifted perspective is a requirement for unschooling. You simply cannot "get it" if you still believe that the parents always know best or that kids can't be trusted. You can live it for a while, you can experiment with it, but your unschooling lifestyle is not going to survive if you hang onto those beliefs.

It's the same with the shift to the parenting that we do. (I have previously called it attachment parenting, but that label doesn't feel big enough anymore, with so much of our parenting of our teenagers involving letting go.) You can start parenting this way before you believe in it, hoping that the results you see will trigger the perspective shift. In fact, I recommend this. Don't wait. Try it. Dive in. But do open your mind and welcome the shift.

The shift is from "The parents are in charge" to "We're all in this together." And it's from a pompous "Doing the right thing" to a joyful "Doing the fun thing."

How?

Make different choices. Begin with small moments. A thousand small moments, every single day. Remember that you have a choice in every single interaction with your child. Choose kindness.

• Step 1: Pause. Give yourself time to find the kind choice. This pause can last as long as you need it to. It is okay to postpone your response. Really. In the meantime, hug your kid.


• Step 2: Strip away what's extra. When conflicts arise with kids, they almost always happen out in public. Have you ever noticed that? At the mall, in the grocery store, in a parking lot, at somebody else's house. So, immediately, the parent is coping not only with the situation at hand but with social pressure.
  
  You MUST ignore that part, and if you think I don't know how hard that is, you're wrong.
  
  Imagine yourself in a bubble with your child. Inside that bubble, what does your child want? Is she tired? Is she uncomfortable? Is she hungry? Does she desire a toy or a food or an experience?


• Step 3: Respond, don't react. Now assess what you can do about your child's wants. Here is where it's okay to factor in the social pressure a bit. But be solution oriented. Be compassionate. Find a way to say "yes" to your kid.
  
  I know you want to climb, but that isn't allowed on grocery store shelves. Where can we go where climbing is okay?
  
  I wish I could buy you this toy. Let's write down the name of it and see if we can find it for less money on eBay.
  
  I want to talk to you about this, but there's no privacy here. Shall we step into the restroom?
  
  I highly recommend How to Talk So Kids Will Listen and Listen So Kids Will Talk.


• Step 4: Follow through. "Follow through." It's very common parenting advice. But I am not a very common parent. I am not talking about discipline here. I am talking about being honest and honorable. As Don Miguel says, be impeccable with your word. If you say you are going to look something up on eBay, do it.

All those yeses and qualified yeses are another vital part of the process. They add up. All that honesty and trustworthiness adds up. When we listen to our kids, when we treat our kids with compassion and generosity, they respond with listening, and compassion, and generosity. They learn to trust us to be on their side and to help them get what they want.

What does it look like?

First, here's what it doesn't look like:
One time when my kids were little, we had promised them a new video. Something or other happened (I have no recollection of what, which tells you how exceedingly UNimportant it was really), and we ended up carrying two shrieking children out through the mall without the video. We didn't yell. We weren't even especially angry. But our "solution" that day stemmed from our belief that we were in charge, and the result was two very unhappy kids and two self-righteous-feeling parents.

(Actually, that's probably something to watch for: if you feel self-righteous, you're just wrong.)

In the exact same circumstances now, with our new belief system, not only would we have left with the video, but we would all have left laughing and happy. This is because Frank and I would have looked at whatever it was that our kids were doing or wanting as valid, as something that was worth our time to respond to and, if necessary, simply cope with.

I try to remember what they were doing that was so bad that I "had to" break a promise. What could it have been? Did they squabble in the video store? Did they touch something I didn't think they should touch? Whatever it was, it wasn't worth it.

Now, here's what it looks like:
At LIFE is Good last weekend, a little boy about 4 melted down in the swimming pool. My friend Shonna (mom to five) stepped in and had him laughing in minutes. It was remarkable. First, she bundled him up in extra towels. He was very nearly swaddled. It really struck me, because with my overdeveloped sense of social responsibility, I probably would have hesitated and felt too guilty to use the extra hotel towels. But it was SO the right thing to do. He was chilled, and she got him warm. So simple! But so important. She tuned into his needs in the moment. Next, she cuddled him close (more warmth, plus love, love, love) and murmured to him, and when he seemed ready, she began to play with him. She bounced his feet and he giggled. Then she got up and wandered around with him a bit, saying, "Has anyone seen Michael? I have this cool new toy that giggles when you bounce its feet, but I can't find Michael anywhere!"

I have seen similar situations around other swimming pools that ended much differently. They ended with recriminations, such as, "I told you not to stay in too long" or "Be a big boy. Stop crying!" They ended with angry parents dragging crying kids back into locker rooms or hotel rooms.

And worst of all, they ended with kids and parents as adversaries, and with kids feeling ashamed and wrong for needing what they needed.

Shonna's way is better.

Control

"Sooner or later we will come to the edge of all that we can
control and find life, waiting there for us."
— Rachel Naomi Remen, M.D.


I have had this quote featured in the sidebar for a few days, and I think I'll leave it up a bit longer. It's from Dr. Remen's book My Grandfather's Blessings, which I discovered several years ago while on a personal odyssey (as it turned out) visiting a friend in New Mexico. It had quite an impact on me.

I come from a long line of detail-oriented women who (attempt to) leave very little to chance. When my kids were small, my need for control — and it approached obsessive-compulsive levels in those sleep-deprived days — caused a lot of pain in this house.

It's hard for me to look back at that time objectively. Frank and I have always encouraged exploration and individuality to some degree, and we did a lot that can be classified as attachment parenting (nursing on demand, letting the girls self-wean, holding them whenever they wanted, cosleeping in one big family bed). I look at photographs and home movies from the girls' childhood, and they were undoubtedly happy kids who knew they were loved and cared for.

But I remember times that don't show up in those images, times when I screamed and they cried, when I lost my temper and did regrettable things ranging from throwing things at walls to tearing up the girls' new coloring books to spanking them. And I remember 2-year-old Chloe hiding under the diningroom table one afternoon while MJ and I engaged in our latest battle of wills.

I knew that couldn't continue. And since I had gone so far to the punitive side, I knew more of the same or a harsher version of the same was not the answer. I discovered Positive Discipline by Jane Nelsen and began to relinquish control in small ways, letting the girls choose between the red shirt or the blue shirt, and letting them experience a few natural consequences instead of trying to prevent every negative thing. I began, for the first time, to put myself in my kids' shoes and see what the world looked like from down there.

My motives in this were still rooted in control to a certain extent. Punitive discipline wasn't producing the behavior I wanted, but maybe positive discipline would. I'm being a bit overly harsh with myself there, because of course it broke my heart and filled me with guilt when I hurt my kids, and I genuinely wanted better for all of us. But a zebra doesn't shed her stripes quite that quickly, and I know that when I offered the red shirt or the blue shirt, what I really wanted was a kid who was wearing a shirt.

But it was a start. I had gained awareness of my own intense need for control and begun to explore the reasons for it. And I discovered that letting go of some control didn't kill me or anyone else. In fact, life improved by leaps and bounds, and, gradually, when I offered the red shirt or the blue shirt, it was because I wanted my child to have choices.

I also discovered that my kids did not have unreasonable wishes and needs. When I stepped into their shoes, I found that the things they wanted were good, healthy, and easy to provide. Imagine that!

So I let go a little more. And every time I did, I was richly rewarded (positive reinforcement), and the process fed itself.

I think my current enthusiasm for acceptance is the latest step in this journey, so I'll close with a quote from Dr. Remen about that.

"The greatest blessing we offer others may be the belief we have in their struggle for freedom, the courage to support and accompany them as they determine for themselves the strength that will become their refuge and the foundation of their lives."