I am so glad I am not a pig 6/11/12
Enjoying a tractor ride at the farm
Humans I think are on the unique side when it comes to procreation. We do not have a season when we are in heat and are actively looking for a hook up that will provide for continuation of the species. There are some couples who have a number of children born in the same month that perhaps are overly celebrating a holiday but that is more of a choice rather than a seasonal force. In general, our bringing new members to team human are a constant. Maybe not being seasonally dependent on making more of us is part of what brought us so high up on one food chain.
As it is late spring I have been witness to many new members of the nature family that surrounds my home. I have been able to see mother sparrows feed their young from the seeds we have hung out, there are mother finches teaching her young to fly, and yesterday I saw baby squirrels venturing out of the nest and trying their climbing skills on the large spruce tree towering over the front lawn. It’s of course lovely to watch, but there are negatives too. This morning I had to bury a baby Robin who either did not make his landing, or worse, crashed into the side of our house. I found him lying right next to the kids’ picnic table. There is a painful irony in this and a wake-up reminder about the realities of the world. The role of the animal parent in this is obvious; all animal parents must provide preparation by teaching the young the skills needed to survive on their own. This of course is the same as with us human parents (and those who love, teacher, or connect with a child). We however must put more into our projects and for longer periods of time then the animals in the yard. Again, perhaps a reason for our success over much of the animal kingdom. I cannot claim total animal domination yet, not until the carpenter ants have given up on chewing on my home anyway.
In many ways the animals have it easier than we do. They never need to choose between work and home. Their home is work and survival is the blanket they wrap up in every night. The are no decisions about schools, sports, second languages. Play dates do not happen because there is no play past the nest or den, and the only early play is that which may teach a skill that may be needed to survive. Our needs are seemingly more complex, but survival be it educational, athletic, or social is still a goal weather we choose to it acknowledge it that way publicly or not.
During a recent visit to a local educational farm I was again reminded of some of the differences between human and nonhuman parents. The new mama goats and sheep were continuing to be busy doing their regular goat and sheep things (eating and resting) and their young were simply following along trying to get a taste of the teat. Occasionally a mama would stop to let a hungry youngster have a drink, but they did not keep them on too long. "Have some and go" seemed more their style. There was no 45 minute feed like I've had to do with the boys (defiantly a large part of why I stopped when I did), but importantly these mamas knew they needed to go on with the regular business of living if any and all of them would survive We human mamas (and dads alike) need to take a lesson from our four legged counter parts, remember what matters most and take some time as well to take care of our self.
As it is late spring I have been witness to many new members of the nature family that surrounds my home. I have been able to see mother sparrows feed their young from the seeds we have hung out, there are mother finches teaching her young to fly, and yesterday I saw baby squirrels venturing out of the nest and trying their climbing skills on the large spruce tree towering over the front lawn. It’s of course lovely to watch, but there are negatives too. This morning I had to bury a baby Robin who either did not make his landing, or worse, crashed into the side of our house. I found him lying right next to the kids’ picnic table. There is a painful irony in this and a wake-up reminder about the realities of the world. The role of the animal parent in this is obvious; all animal parents must provide preparation by teaching the young the skills needed to survive on their own. This of course is the same as with us human parents (and those who love, teacher, or connect with a child). We however must put more into our projects and for longer periods of time then the animals in the yard. Again, perhaps a reason for our success over much of the animal kingdom. I cannot claim total animal domination yet, not until the carpenter ants have given up on chewing on my home anyway.
In many ways the animals have it easier than we do. They never need to choose between work and home. Their home is work and survival is the blanket they wrap up in every night. The are no decisions about schools, sports, second languages. Play dates do not happen because there is no play past the nest or den, and the only early play is that which may teach a skill that may be needed to survive. Our needs are seemingly more complex, but survival be it educational, athletic, or social is still a goal weather we choose to it acknowledge it that way publicly or not.
During a recent visit to a local educational farm I was again reminded of some of the differences between human and nonhuman parents. The new mama goats and sheep were continuing to be busy doing their regular goat and sheep things (eating and resting) and their young were simply following along trying to get a taste of the teat. Occasionally a mama would stop to let a hungry youngster have a drink, but they did not keep them on too long. "Have some and go" seemed more their style. There was no 45 minute feed like I've had to do with the boys (defiantly a large part of why I stopped when I did), but importantly these mamas knew they needed to go on with the regular business of living if any and all of them would survive We human mamas (and dads alike) need to take a lesson from our four legged counter parts, remember what matters most and take some time as well to take care of our self.
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My favorite of these farm mamas is the resident sow. The "big fat pig" as Will likes to call her, gave birth to another large brood this spring. Eight little piggies went to mama; all eight were trying to eat at the same time. It looked like controlled chaos. In a total survival of the fittest it even appeared as though some of the brood were sitting on top of a sibling or two in order to eat. It was impossible to tell if they were all eating or not. Her brood was rather aggressive in their approach toward their food source and did not seem up to an interruption to count heads. Looking at her I was happy not to be a pig. Her work, although simple, lie there and let them eat, seemed exhausting and downright painful. Despite the length and depth of our human parenting requirements, I will gladly choose my lot over hers. Remember, no matter how great a job she does with them, she will likely have to do it all over again next year when the season is right, with eight new hungry piggies.
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The role as a parent, I have always believed is to make competent, independent adults who can take care of themselves and ideally contribute to society. I am sure as the days march on I will find myself caught up in some cycle of pushing and wanting them to "be the best" at something. But if there is a take away from this spring it is, make sure to give them what they need to grow not just to 'be good', to give myself some time too, and to enjoy all I have with them. Seasons change and childhood does not last forever.
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Copyright 2012 Motherhood Uncorked
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Links are just fine, though.
Please do not copy or reproduce without permission.
Links are just fine, though.