You can find me Elsewhere On The Internet as Ivynettle or Magpie Ilya
Half-asleep thought that seriously made no sense when I woke up a bit: “no, I can’t open that story I abandoned years ago, the character names have all gone mouldy, it’ll be gross.”
“A grown man looms behind my three-year-old daughter. Occasionally he will poke or tickle her and she responds by shrinking. Smaller and smaller with each unwanted advance. I imagine her trying to become slight enough to slip out of her booster seat and slide under the table.
When my mother views this scene, she sees playful taunting. A grandfather engaging with his granddaughter. “Mae.” My tone cuts through the din of a familiar family gathering together. She does not look at me.
“Mae.” I start again. “You can tell him no Mae. If this isn’t okay you could say something like, Papa, please back up—I would like some space for my body.”
As I say the words, my step-father, the bulldog, leans in a little closer, hovering just above her head. His tenebrous grin taunts me as my daughter accordions her 30-pound frame hoping to escape his tickles and hot breath.
I repeat myself with a little more force. She finally peeks up at me. “Mama … can you say it?”
Surprise. A three-year-old-girl doesn’t feel comfortable defending herself against a grown man. A man that has stated he loves and cares for her over and over again, and yet, stands here showing zero concern for her wishes about her own body. I ready myself for battle. “Papa! Please back up! Mae would like some space for her body.”
My voice is firm but cheerful. He does not move. “Papa. I should not have to ask you twice. Please back up. Mae is uncomfortable.”
“Oh, relax,” he says, ruffling her wispy blonde hair. The patriarchy stands, patronizing me in my own damn kitchen. “We’re just playin’.” His southern drawl does not charm me. “No. You were playing. She was not. She’s made it clear that she would like some space, now please back up.”
“I can play how I want with her.” He says, straightening his posture. My chest tightens. The sun-bleached hairs on my arms stand at attention as this man, who has been my father figure for more than three decades, enters the battle ring.
“No. No, you cannot play however you want with her. It’s not okay to ‘have fun’ with someone who does not want to play.” He opens his mouth to respond but my rage is palpable through my measured response. I wonder if my daughter can feel it. I hope she can.
He retreats to the living room and my daughter stares up at me. Her eyes, a starburst of blue and hazel, shine with admiration for her mama. The dragon has been slayed (for now). My own mother is silent. She refuses to make eye contact with me.
This is the same woman who shut me down when I told her about a sexual assault I had recently come to acknowledge.
This is the same woman who was abducted by a carful of strangers as she walked home one night. She fought and screamed until they kicked her out. Speeding away, they ran over her ankle and left her with a lifetime of physical and emotional pain.
This is the same woman who said nothing, who could say nothing as her boss and his friends sexually harassed her for years. This is the same woman who married one of those friends. When my mother views this scene, she sees her daughter overreacting. She sees me ‘making a big deal out of nothing.’ Her concerns lie more in maintaining the status quo and cradling my step-dad’s toxic ego than in protecting the shrinking three-year-old in front of her.
When I view this scene, I am both bolstered and dismayed. My own strength and refusal to keep quiet is the result of hundreds, probably thousands of years of women being mistreated, and their protests ignored. It is the result of watching my own mother suffer quietly at the hands of too many men. It is the result of my own mistreatment and my solemn vow to be part of ending this cycle.
It would be so easy to see a little girl being taught that her wishes don’t matter. That her body is not her own. That even people she loves will mistreat and ignore her. And that all of this is “okay” in the name of other people, men, having fun.
But. What I see instead is a little girl watching her mama. I see a little girl learning that her voice matters. That her wishes matter. I see a little girl learning that she is allowed and expected to say no. I see her learning that this is not okay.
I hope my mom is learning something, too. Fighting the patriarchy one grandpa at a time.”
there’s nothing purer or better than how much kids enjoy being picked up and then hurled at soft surfaces
anyone who’s ever been around kids for ay meaningful amount of time should know exactly how much kids long to be hefted up and then just fuckin tossed! it’s so good! they’re so excited to get fucking tossed around like a sack of potatoes it’s so pure
Why do kids love it so much? Like I remember when I was a kid at diving practice during the summer, the best part was when one if the coaches would toss you into the deep end. And in gymnastics coaches would toss us into the foam pit. Do kids just have a evolutionary urge to die?
“Vestibular sense provides information about where the body is in relation to its surroundings. This is the sense that helps you understand balance, and it connects with all the other senses.
When the vestibular system does not develop properly all other senses will struggle to function properly. Without a strong vestibular sense, kids will have no choice but to fidget, get frustrated, experience more falls and aggression, get too close to people when talking, and struggle with focusing and listening. Because they literally cannot help it.”
“Here are a few ways to support your child’s vestibular sense:
Spinning in circles.
Using a Merry-Go-Round.
Rolling down a hill.
Spinning on a swing.
Going upside down.
Climbing trees.
Rocking.
Jumping rope.
Summersaults or cartwheels.
Using monkey bars.
Skating.
Going backwards.
Swimming.
Dancing.
Wheel-barrel walks.”
Yeeting kids, spinning them, flipping them upside down, tossing them in the air, and otherwise disrupting their balance temporarily, is Important For Their Development, specifically for their vestibular sense.
Kids love this because they NEED it.
In other words: Don’t forget to calibrate your child’s GPS!
YEET THE CHILD FOR THEIR HEALTH
Hi! Paediatric Occupational Therapist here who yeets children into pillows for a living. It’s actually more than the vestibular system! It’s also giving them proprioception, which is the feeling of your joints and muscles / where your body is in space!
We all seek proprioceptive input, leaning against walls, pushing against the steering wheel when driving, giving your body a squeeze to wake yourself up, the list goes on! When we ‘crash’ kids into soft things like pillows or beds, we’re waking their bodies up AND calming their bodies down! In other words, getting them into this super nice zone of “just right” regulation.
When I see a child who is bouncing off the walls and can’t seem to stand still for more than a few seconds? I start wrestling with them, crashing them into pillows, giving their body the right amount of input they need to feel good and organised. And suddenly, this kid is able to sit and play attentively or do their handwriting practice. It’s amazing! If you want to know more about why the vestibular and proprioceptive systems are awesome at making your body feel good, google those two words (and sensory processing) and read through some occupational therapy websites!
Side note: As adults, does your body ever feel jittering/jiggly/wiggly/like it needs to move or calm down but you just can’t figure out why? That’s your sensory system saying Hey! I need to feel differently in order to function better! Here’s what you can do:
Jump up and down (vestibular and proprioception)
Give yourself big squeezes (proprioception)
Place your hands on a wall and do push ups (proprioception)
Do cartwheels (vestibular and proprioception)
Get someone to give you the biggest bear hug for at least 10 seconds (proprioception and social connection, also proven to help regulate your sensory system into just right zone!)
Get a drink of water and drink it through a straw OR blow bubbles into the water (way more fun!) (oral motor input and respiration)
Have a shower or a bath (tactile)
Stretch and do exercise (vestibular and proprioception)
Eat something crunchy or chewy (like chips or gum) (oral motor input)
Listen to some music that suits your mood (auditory)
etc etc etc! I’m sure you already have a strategy that your body has figured out works for you. I personally like to chew gum when I feel like i need to eat something but I’m not actually hungry and just need that chewing sensation in my jaw.
Long story short, everyone has a sensory system and we all use regulation strategies like the ones listed above to help make our body feel better. So if you ever see someone (especially kids!) fidgeting and having a hard time focusing, maybe suggest something from the list above!
Before you do a thing to your child whom you love dearly, please consider this question:
Would it be a literal war crime if you did it to someone you had captured while they were literally trying to kill you?
If it would, please consider alternatives. Honoring the Geneva Conventions will not make you a great parent, but if you find that respecting them cramps your style, something is probably very wrong.
wow if someone could go back in time and tell this to my parents it would help a lot thanks
yeah i wrote it after realizing that i knew over a dozen people whose issues would have been measurably improved by this advice.
Parents, cops, politicians, teachers, healthcare providers.. a lot of people should really just have this in mind.
Last night, it finally rained a bit - not nearly enough, but at least the soil softened up enough that I could finally plant my pumpkins - weeks later than planned - and some marigolds, in the hope that the slugs would rather eat those than the pumpkins (squashes? They’re the same in German.)
Meanwhile, LG finished the railing on our back steps
and immediately started on the fence, and went back to the DIY store to get more things for the fence, and for a climbing frame thingy. (Which we’re planning to connect with our grape trellis to make a pergola, and thus another shady spot to sit. Hard to have enough of these, with summers getting ever hotter, and I’d rather be prepared if our apple tree, the current shade provider, ever gives up the ghost.)
Watching the rain radar on my weather app is so frustrating. Rain passing to the north of us, rain passing to the south of us. Rain stopping just west of us. New rain showers forming just east of us.
Eastern hemlock (Tsuga Canadensis) is sometimes referred to as the “redwood of the east”, and once-upon-a-time, this was absolutely the case; great expanses of virgin hemlock forest cooled headwater streams and created their own unique ecology. But these old growth forests are largely gone now, with only a few remnant stands scattered along the Appalachian spine. A spring hike through a pristine stand of these gentle giants is an experience to be treasured, providing a rare connection to a primeval world nearly lost to us.
From top: Painted trillium (Trillium undulatum), a lover of old hemlock and spruce forests and the most beautiful and delicate of all the trilliums to bloom in this area; marsh blue violet (Viola cucullata), a moisture-loving violet with club-like hairs at the throat of its flower; heartleaf foamflower (Tiarella cordifolia), which clumps gorgeously at the edges of seeps and brooks; halberd-leaved yellow violet (Viola hastata), an Appalachian endemic with sword-like leaves; and a red eft (Notophthalmus viridescens viridescens) on a perilous journey in search of a pond environment, where it will eventually transform into an adult newt.
