Buying a camper van and taking off for the summer is the latest in the long list of weird and wonderful ideas we’ve had. I thought I might take you on a trek down memory lane to see just how we got to be in this space.
In 2001, Ron and I met in Taupō. Two days later he left the country and I didn’t see him again until Boxing Day, some three months later. That day, he flew into Brisbane, having spent hours and hours on the internet trying to score cheap tickets to fly back to see me. I’m embarrassed to tell this part of the story now, but, at this point I totally ditched my travelling partner and went on a three week whirl-wind tour of Australia with him. After that he went back to the Netherlands, and I went back to NZ.
Nobody really thought we were going to be a thing. One of Ron’s friends repeatedly told him to just forget about me – long distance was too hard, too complicated, too messy. But, we became a thing. In fact, in June of 2002 I went to the NL on a one year visa and moved in with him.
So, it’s quite clear that we’ve been crazy for a while.
We moved back to NZ in 2005 and I started my training as a homeopath in 2006.
We got married in 2008, annoying a lot of people by having a teeny-tiny wedding in my teenage stomping ground of the Tukituki Valley.
By the end of 2008 I was pregnant. I had been doing the first year of Med School. I totally flunked the interview by trying to hide my baby bump. They probably wondered why I couldn’t sit up straight.
I had not been expecting to be expecting, so felt overwhelmingly under-prepared. I had a lovely friend who’d had three home births, so I decided that’s what I’d do (anything to avoid the medical profession, with which I had no love lost.) And I did what I always do: I read books. A lot of them ended up being used as missiles launched at the nearest wall and Ron learned to duck. I was bemoaning this to a friend of mine who ended up giving me The Continuum Concept, (TCC) which actually changed my life. Here was finally a book that didn’t set the baby and the parent up as adversaries from the first moments. It suggested honouring the needs of everyone, of understanding a baby’s helplessness as just that, and not some master plan to take over the world via mind control and manipulation techniques, it showed a culture so different from my own and that was exactly what I felt I needed.
So, we parented along TCC-lines, which meant we were kind to our baby. We gave him what he needed, when he needed it. We respected him, and taught him from the first that his autonomy was important to us. We co-slept, breast-fed, baby-wore, did elimination communication, and went about our days in a new rhythm which brought the baby along with us.
This may not seem like a massive departure from society, but society has become, paradoxically, quite child-centred. Even though our children spend a lot of time away from us, the time the do spend with us is so hyper-focused on them, their performance, their milestones, that they are not really given much space to be.
TCC is most easily understood and implemented in what is known as the In-arms Phase. The period when a baby doesn’t move yet under their own steam. After that, things get a bit hairy. We don’t live in a Tribal Setting. We don’t have Aunties and Uncles and Nana’s and Grandad’s to help in the middle of the night when you’ve given the 152nd feed and the baby still isn’t settling. I longed for those people and that tribe.
It was difficult to remain faithful in TCC when my child would lose the plot, be difficult, fussy, uncooperative, argumentative. I knew I was doing something wrong – my child, so clearly needed TCC-principles, was telling me vehemently that I needed to get back on track. So, I enlisted the help of a TCC-based Parenting Coach, Alexsandra Burt. I had a few sessions with her, and it was only then that I saw the difference between how I’d been implementing TCC, and how it was intended. Alexsandra set me straight, repeatedly, like a car with a bent axle trying to navigate a straight road. I started to see shifts – like cooperation.
By this stage, Louis was about four years old, and “school age” was looming. Here in NZ, five is the normal age to start school. Legally, you don’t have to start til you’re six. So, I put off the decision for a year, and told people “he isn’t ready yet.”
I could not see myself in the role as Teacher-Mama. For one who had striven her whole parenting life to not be the Police-Mama, Teacher-Mama ranked not far behind in the I absolutely DO NOT want to do that. But, sending Louis to school didn’t really feel like an option either. I knew that all the “Management Techniques” I had for helping him navigate life, would not be available to him in a school setting. I had seen what happened when those management techniques were not holding the space for him – it wasn’t pretty. I didn’t think he needed to go to school and be told there was something wrong with him.
So I was in a conundrum for about a year. I didn’t want to send him to school, because I didn’t think his autonomy and, well, just him would be honoured there. I didn’t want to homeschool him because – well, because I thought it would irreparably damage our relationship. Yelling, “Louis! have you done your book work yet?? Turn off the TV! Where’s your story you were meant to write?!” All day every day didn’t seem like a great way to nurture a loving and respectful relationship.
And then… Well, then I found Sawyer Fredericks, which is a whole ‘nother story, and one I tell you if we’re ever sitting having a wine together. But, the point is, I got introduced to unschooling. It was Radical Unschooling – an approach to life that respects the child’s innate desires in every aspect, not just learning. And I fell in love with how these parents were with their kids. How the kids were with their parents. I fell in love with the possibility of enjoying spending time together, of enjoying each other.
And I wrote an application for exemption from school with a decidedly unschooling bent and it got accepted and there we were.
Like a lot of people, Ron and I had dreams and fantasies about owning a life-style block, being semi-self-sufficient, having space for the kids to run around, build huts, fish, swim, climb trees… Instead, we live on a 400sqm section about two kilometres from the sleepy metropolis of Napier. Our back yard is divided in two by a concrete path that used to be a drive way. By the time we added four apple bins for growing veggies, three citrus trees, a feijoa tree, a plum tree, a sand pit, an outdoor table and a barbecue, it was getting quite full. But we were living on a single income which is sometimes unreliable, and options for moving somewhere more rural weren’t really overwhelming us.
I was going nuts in the small-feeling four walls of our house and the prison-like feeling of the fence around our property. So, we decided to renovate. Like all nuts-going people should in order to feel more sane. We cobbled together money, resources and favours and started the long, stressful, crazy journey of making a warm sunny home from the 100-year-old uninsulated home we started with.
Last year we were still looking at lifestyle blocks. We thought maybe we’d done enough renovating to boost the house price enough to buy somewhere closer to our dreams. We hadn’t. The properties we could afford were over an hour from town and over two hours away from our most regular meet-up point with our unschooling friends. The thought of me, in my sometimes vulnerable mental state, being that isolated with the kids, was enough to put us off. So, we went back to the drawing board. We looked for community-living type situations. We found one we thought we liked, said we’d move there, and then didn’t. We read the book Beyond Civilisation and I realised that I could create a tribe anywhere I was. And I relaxed a bit.
We started thinking about things we could do as a family. things that we’d all enjoy, that would use all our talents, and that would earn us some money. We went through a lot of permutations of that. Some of which I still hold in my “One Day” file.
I don’t remember the exact moment we thought “We should buy a camper van” I don’t even remember whether it was me or Ron. But, one of us said it. And we started investigating getting a loan to buy one, renting our house out on AirBnB, making a list of the things that would still need to be done to do that.
So, Raising a Revolution was born. It was a way for the kids to have adventures, for me to write, for Louis to film, and me to edit, and Joss to perform and Ron to take photos, and have ideas, and for our house to be paying for itself – for us all to be getting out from under the heavy yoke of the fucking mortgage.
And now, next week, we set off on our adventure. The camper van is currently getting some last-minute repairs, we’re pruning off how much clothing we need, ditching recipe books, buying bbq’s, surfboards, wetsuits… All the essentials. And then, we go. And I hope we’re about to give our kids a summer filled with adventure, and fun, and family, and cooperation, and earth, and trees, and sea, and sand… and many more things I can’t possibly know will happen.