Tuesday, May 13, 2014

Sleep and 'continual partial attention'


Up until about 8 months ago I felt reasonably on top of what I would be close to describing as a ‘bedtime routine’ cutting some slack for periods of sickness, travel or the like which might upset things. I say ‘close to’ because if someone were to ask me what our bedtime routine was I’d have to fumble through a few explanations that would depend on the mood, work load and the emotional needs of the children and parents at the time. Admittedly I have to fabricate patience for the emotional needs of the family (even if they don’t reach the height of a chair rail) after 8pm in the evening - but I suppose if they don’t reach the height of a chair rail they should probably be in bed by 8pm – Hmmm…moving on…Yes, in general bedtime had been manageable with the 5 boys. To sum a typical evening  - our eldest would take himself off to bed with a book, that is after I’d gone through the habitual goodnights, ‘What are you reading and are you enjoying it?’ ‘Have you done your teeth and are you wearing your elastics?’ ‘Is your mobile phone downstairs?, at which point he blatantly extracts his mobile phone from under the pillow. ’Ok put it downstairs please’ ‘Goodnight’. The 11 year old would dawdle along to bed already in his dreamlike state but awake enough to not want to go to bed, brush his teeth or organize anything for the following morning but we’ll excuse him that  - he was 11 yrs old and sometimes trying to fall asleep for him plays havoc as it interrupts his lofty imagination, or the other way round, not sure. The twins would tumble and wrestle their way upstairs as one being, eventually separate into two beings and fall asleep before the end of a story. I’m afraid we’ve been lax with the 3 yr old and too jaded to worry about his bedtime - it just happened somewhere, anywhere.

That was then, but this is now….8 months later.

With two weeks to go until the 12 year old’s piano exam and a text home from his teacher saying that if he doesn’t put a lot of practice in between now and then it could be a struggle for him– what better excuse not to go to bed than do your piano practice at around 9pm at night. ‘After all, Mum you do want me to pass, right?’ What can I say? ‘Practice earlier in the day?’ but too late for that when we just haven’t been organized enough to get around to it. Currently twin 1 is going through a phase of falling asleep in pitch black and in total silence away from twin 2 (they have now developed different bedtimes) – sound’s daft but it’s a bit of time that they seem to have carved out in the day away from each other and it suits them – one sleeps and one winds down with some lego building or sports watching. So piano playing is upsetting twin 1 whose hearing the chromatic scales thumping through the floorboards (and played with such love- not!) The 4 year old now goes to sleep in a bed, our bed mind you but no longer on the sofa. He also demands 2 stories, a chat, a leg rub, arm rub and possibly a back rub. Being of the positive frame of mind I think it’s all a step closer to him graduating to his own bed very soon. Summer exam fever is approaching for the 14 yr old so out comes the clarinet late at night for his practical music exam. It’s all feeling quite surreal around bedtime. Somehow it eventually falls into place and the house is silent, we sleep and get up but as for a routine, what was that?



There seem to be an increasing number of articles and books about unplugging and detoxing from our digital devices and a list of new phrases and terms surrounding the conundrum – We are tethered? Addicted? Obsessed? On permanent phone IV? One term that comes to mind is ‘continual partial attention’ meaning that due to our electrical devices we’re partly tuned into everything but never completely tuned into anything. I had to smile when I read this as it struck a familiar chord with me. This term sums up how I often feel about parenting the age spread of boys. I’ve convinced myself that it’s not a bad thing - it’s just the way it is and instead of fighting the syndrome I’ll embrace it. Now I can give this feeling a label….the trending way to excuse ourselves out of behavior that may not fit the norm – give it a title and explanation. 'Continual partial attention' runs something like this in our house -  engaged conversations are broken into sound bites whereby fragments of sentences fly in every direction. – there is no linear order to the sound bites or sentences. If you’re not used to them they can sound pretty dysfunctional. - Everyone avoids social etiquette and hangs on for dear life to their own train of thought. You just ‘get your word in’ regardless of patience and manners. It’s like catching curve balls coming at you in every direction.  I tend to delve into my 'continual partial attention' condition in a big way on Saturday mornings and always hear the same little voice in my head asking – “Who on earth is calling the shots here, everything feels like it’s up for discussion?’



Last Saturday morning’s sound bite session went something like this -



Me - (during a staggered breakfast sitting) I’m going to IKEA to buy the Billy shelves, I’m tired talking about them and I have a window of opportunity.

Husband – Careful of Saturday crowds, it could be a nightmare.

Me – It’s early, gonna get going in 15 minutes, think I can be back in 3 hours.

14yr old - YOU CAN’T GO, I’m going to the cinema

Me – What?

14 yr old – I told you yesterday and you said it what fine.

Me  - WHAT, I did not, you didn’t’ tell me (‘fight or flight’ stress kicking in)

14yr old – OMG, you never keep promises, you said it was fine, I’ve to be there at 2.

Me – WHAT, have you booked and paid? I can’t believe it!

4yr old – I want to play Xbox

14 yrs old  - YES and ____‘s coming also.

Me – WHAT, ____ please turn on the Xbox, who paid for the tickets? (glowering at husband, blame game kicking in?)

Husband – It’s fine, we’ll get them there (good cop!)

Me – (to husband and 2 of the kids) Well, you need to study this morning. Please turn on the Xbox, ____ stop kicking your brother.(resignation and exasperation kicking in)

12 yr old – I want to go too.

8 yr old is continuously hitting tennis ball against kitchen counters

Me –  (to husband) I dunno, what do you think? (to 8yr old) PLEASE stop playing tennis in the kitchen. (back to husband) Him on the Luas, he hasn’t been on it before. He’s only 12. (rhetorical question - deep down I know he’s gonna win this battle as I’ve shown signs of rushing, CPA syndrome AND I am in the minority)

Husband – Anything else we need in IKEA?

4yr old – I WANT TO WATCH THE XBOX.

Me  - (still trying to compute logistics of cinema trip, tennis and IKEA) But YOU have tennis as well, ____ needs to be in Sutton for his tournament, I’m going to Ikea, PLEASE TURN ON the Xbox I can’t hear myself think and STOP playing tennis in the kitchen.

Etcetera…...

Fast forward to me pulling out of our drive. Phone rings. I answer. ‘Mum are you sure you’ll be back in time to get me to the cinema? And I’m hungry, what can I eat?’

‘Open the cupboards dear, open the cupboards’ I say as I breathe deeply and take a break from 'continual partial attention'.




Tuesday, May 6, 2014

Patience and Tolerance.


Some have oodles of patience and tolerance. 
In what feels like a distant past (although it could have been last month) I think I had these very useful parenting attributes. I even had the benign gentle smile that works in tandem with patience and tolerance – that smile which I could adopt at short notice to cover up the domestic carnage that a family of 5 boys and two adults goes through just to get out of the house with all required body parts covered up, no bloody noses and hopefully with my cardigan on the right way around.
I was so good at that smile it was like driving an automatic car  - my body knew when to change to this socially acceptable gear without any messaging trips to my brain.
In appearance this smile is quite characterless and humourless. It can say a number of things or nothing at all if one cares to enquire. For example it can say ‘don’t ask me which team my twin sons are playing in the next round of their rugby league because I don’t know’ or ‘don’t ask me which piano grade my 12 year old is doing or when because I don’t know’ or ‘please don’t glower at me when my 4 yr old gives his big brother a left hook as he tries to snatch his dad’s mobile phone from him because in fact…I didn’t see that happen and actually my mind has moved to big global issues like whether a one state solution in Israel will ever be achieved and what on earth does Tony Blair do as Special Envoy to the Middle East? Why is he special? Huh, Eh Tony try bringing peace talks to these stick-wielding, wrestling, knee-jerking clutch of future Google programmers - then you might make peace inroads in the Middle East.
So with grinding consideration I have decided that this benign smile is far too passive aggressive and an untrue form of communication. It’s not what it seems and I must ‘practice what I preach’ in this responsibility laden arena of child rearing.  If worn too often one could become aloof and untouchable. Why not just be up front and admit everything isn’t rosy and grand rearing 5 lads  - moving forward I will only bring  out 'the smile' for very special occasions or in times of extreme emotional crises when it’s just too distressing for the listener to have to hear why I feel like doing any or all of the following  - checking into a spa retreat for 4 days just because I’m worth it, eating my youngest son’s weight in hydrogenated fats, driving around the block more times than is healthy with Alanis Morrisette blaring her lyrics through the car…I can relate to being [I’m sane but I'm overwhelmed, I'm lost but I'm hopeful, baby].
After my 4th lap around the block I return home feeling convinced that [what it all comes down to is that everything's gonna be fine, fine, fine…cause I’ve got one hand in my pocket and other one is giving a high-five] Thanks Alanis for memories of what it was like before school lunch boxes and the shrilling experience of piano duet practice with the 8 year olds.

We decided to go out for lunch on Sunday.  Everyone was physically tired after sporting activities and a school sponsored walk on Saturday.  Summer exams are looming for the 14 yr old. He’s finding it hard to focus and he knows he’s heading into 3 weeks of his parents badgering him to do ‘effective studying’. I notice he’s already making himself invisible around the house and avoiding ‘kitchen time’ where pending family agendas get discussed.  Admittedly I’m also not in the mood for 'effective studying' and I'm too hungry for the discipline and organization that I need to instill around this task. It would mean suggesting a quiet activity for the younger ones and trying to instill calm in the house. I’m preoccupied fantasizing about roast chicken and chips in a basket with a cold restorative glass of Coke. Off we trundle to a local country Inn renowned for this aforementioned dish. The seating arrangements are perfect for a family of 7 in the bar area as they have relatively long tables with comfortable padded benches either side. We arrive before the lunch rush and procure the best table close to the open fire. The boys are in good form. I feel calm and relieved not to be standing at our Aga wondering how to invent a good meal from leftovers and poorly stocked cupboards. We order our Cokes and my husband nips over to the shop to buy the papers. I’m attempting to deflect our lunch conversation away from WIFI connections, mobile phone apps and sports so I try launching into some politics….’I mean this is kind of studying right?’ I think as the parenting guilt sinks in We try and work out the ‘who, when, what, why, where’ surrounding the posters for local elections and European elections – a matrix we’re not knowledgeable enough to work out. ‘I think I’m politically ‘apathetic’ and ‘cynical’ on domestic political affairs’, I vaguely tell the family….the children look at me blankly but all is not lost as the twins now know two new words that  they can use in their ‘new word’ list  for next week’s homework. Academia by osmosis is your best friend when it works.
We enjoy our main courses and allow the 4 yr old his 21st century addiction – my husband’s mobile phone equipped with the latest buzz games so all is peaceful and well with the world. That is until the 14 yr old springs forward with his latest incendiary question that we as adults only think but not say. Just to put you in the picture, he’s great at these conversation stoppers and has been known to put our extended family into moments of cold war with his flame throwing remarks.
Sitting back tapping his fingers on the table, assuming the posture of the gentle interrogator he nonchalantly says
‘So when you two divorce who’s going with who, I mean you have far too many children and it’s not possible for one of you to look after 5 of us?’
I say’ Honestly, why are you asking such a question?’
My husband says ‘Well I don’t know about you lot but I’m going with your Mum’, you’ll all just have to work out the rest yourselves.
The 12 yr old goes ‘See, I told you, he prefers Mum to us’
The 14yr old says ‘Well it’s 2.2 for me…and I’ll be living in the city, 5 is just ridiculous….well, maybe…I think…’
These are wise words from the boy’s mouth. Rearing kids can be ridiculously exhausting and funny especially if they are 5 boys between the ages of 4 and 14.