Snapshot

Things change. Babies grow. Young parents get older.

See what you have. Remember what is good, from this moment, from this time.

What is not memorably good, perhaps you can make better for the next moment.

SandraDodd.com/gratitude
photo by Lydia Koltai, a beautiful selfie

Reviewing reality

In your head, you have some repeating-loop messages. Some are telling you you're doing a good job, but I bet some of them are not. Some are telling you that you have no choice, but you do.

SandraDodd.com/voices
photo by Sandra Dodd, as evidence that something can seem like drama and fire, but only last a few minutes; it was just sunset and clouds; they're all gone

Math from My Little Pony

Dr. Christine Alvarado, a science professor at UC San Diego, on how playing with My Little Ponies moved her toward math and engineering:

When I started, I took the hair on the Pony's tail and divided it into three pieces for braiding. Soon I became bored with a single braid. I then divided the tail into nine pieces and made three groups. I braided each group of three until I had three braids, then took these three braids and braided them together.

Soon I was up to starting with twenty-seven pieces (nested down to nine braids, then to three and then one) and then on to eighty-one. All the while I was learning about math: I saw that division is the process of taking a large number of things and grouping them into a smaller number of groups. In order to end up with one even braid at the end, I had to be able to divide the initial number evenly by three, then by three, and then by three again, until I ended up with just one braid.

The day after that page was made, I took a photo of some of my daughter's ponies, to use as an illustration at an announcement post, Sleep, Teens, My Little Pony & Science.

Holly, 18, had been away from the house. She came in and saw the ponies out, so I showed her the photo and read her a bit of the Christine Alvarado article. Holly got another pony to show me, told me about the plan of the braids and the angles to get them to cross and stay crossed, and what could be done with those braids, but that she usually twists them into a bun, and had left some unbraided hair out at the bottom of the mane to fasten that bun up with.

I couldn't even keep up with the explanation. Just sayin'... 🙂

There's more of what Christine Alvarado wrote here:
SandraDodd.com/mylittlepony
photos by Sandra Dodd, but Holly did all the braiding

Less control, concerning food

Jo Isaac wrote:

Scientific studies show that parents who control food end up passing on a whole set of other problems to their kids - including potentially eating disorders.

For example: The linked study concludes that more controlling parents had children who ate more in general, of both "healthy" and "unhealthy" snacks. Also, children whose parents used food as a manipulator/behaviour moderator (i.e.: do you homework or you won't get any ice cream) were more unhappy with their body and looks.

Other studies have found that children who had their food controlled later were more likely to chose high-fat quick energy foods, and had limited acceptance of new foods, and - most importantly - had no ability to understand cues from their own bodies - they couldn't tell if they were hungry or not.

—Jo Isaac

Moving Toward Less Control, Concerning Food
photo by Christine Milne

Look back at progress

[One day in 2006—me, Sandra Dodd:]

I dropped an egg on the floor. Just fumbled it, splat, and I looked at it. I remembered the first time I ever spilled anything and remained really calm. It was baby bathwater, when Kirby was just six months old or so. We were due to a meeting (LLL? Probably, or some appointment) soon, and I had given him a bath and had him all dressed to go, and wanted to pour the tub out. In moving it from the kitchen table over to the sink (a short distance at our old house—nobody who's recently been to our new house should bother to envision) it bent and like two or three gallons of soapy water went all over the floor.

I didn't cuss myself out, didn't stomp or yell or ANYthing. I just looked at it and thought the floor needed to be cleaned anyway, and I threw some rags or towels down on it so it wouldn't get away, and figured I'd clean it up better later. I never felt shame or embarrassment or frustration or the feeling that life isn't fair or that I was stupid. That was new to me, and I was 33.

A week and some ago, I dropped an egg calmly and realized it had been 20 years since I had to get angry and emotional over making a mistake like that.

---

The original post, in 2011: Look back at progress (three comments, on that one)

When I dropped that egg, Kirby was 20. In July 2026, pretty soon, he will be 40. I'm still more calm about things than I would have been had I not consciously decided to be a calmer and more accepting person for the sake of my children.

SandraDodd.com/factors
photo by Sandra Dodd

Compassion INside

To have peace in your house, be more peaceful.

Some parents wear their compassion on the outside and say we need peace in the whole world first. That's a little like saying the ocean should be drained before we take the water out of the basement. Does every war have to stop before we can stop hitting our kids? Does every bit of urban violence need to end before we can stop yelling at our kids? Do lions have to stop eating gazelles before we stop harassing our kids? To think in those terms is to justify our own lack of peace. It seems to me that a child who has known strife at home won't blink at it outside.

SandraDodd.com/peace/noisy
photo by Cátia Maciel

Unschooling river of life

Robin (who always closed with "Blue Skies") wrote:

Last night my son (6) was asking me what the biggest number on earth was, and I explained that there is no such thing, because you can always add on to any number and make it bigger. So I mentioned the concept of infinity and he just stopped still. I could almost see him just turning that concept over and around in his brain and after a few minutes of silence (unusual for him) he said "Wow mom, that idea's just too big."

We talked about it some more and I could see the idea starting to take real shape in his brain. Then I mentioned that there was a symbol for infinity and he surprised me by saying "It's a sideways '8' isn't it?"

I have no idea where he got that from—some random unschooling connection in his brain to somewhere else. I love seeing that kind of spark happen. So he drew the symbol, and then I showed him how to make a Möbius strip which came to mind while thinking of the infinity symbol. We had this long interesting discussion about numbers, infinity, the universe, etc. that went on as we got ready for bed and right up until the second he fell asleep, mid-sentence.

Just a couple of cool moments from the unschooling river of life.

Blue Skies,

-Robin-
Slightly edited from SandraDodd.com/day/robin
photo by Sandra Dodd
(coming from the desert, the ocean looks like infinity to me)