Posted in Weirdness At Our House
Although Hillary Clinton and I are diametrically opposed on say, every issue under the sun, I do have one point of agreement with her book, It Takes A Village. I have not read the book due to this same circumstance of being opposed to her opinions, but I have to be honest-I rather like the title. Of course, when considering the raising of a child requiring a village, the village I am thinking of is quite different from hers.
There is a sparse area of woods just beyond a small yard in the front of our house. This area has been named by the children in our family, "The Village", and happens to be the favorite play spot for our kids. Comprising the Village are child-built homes complete with fenced garden areas, flowered arbors, and outdoor kitchens. Supplies and building materials for the buildings have been salvaged from the trash pile, the lumber shed, the woods, and "the Goodwill pile".
The Village happens to be right outside my kitchen window, which particularly blesses the Mommy. When the children play there, I do not require the usual walkie-talkies to be put into service, as I am able to watch the happenings. In my late afternoon musings from the kitchen window, I have pondered many reasons why the Village is definitely a requirement for raising these children well.
The Village adventures related at dinner are the stuff from which pure joy is made. On a great Village day, the children leave off that familiar bickering, and learn the teamwork that some believe can only be learned from participating in team sports. Other, more general benefits include:
- Village building uses up those miscellaneous pieces-parts of stuff that should be tossed, but never quite make it to the trash pile (or at least don't stay on the trash pile).
- The kids are allowed to use their creativity in ways that keep them out of trouble (i.e. they have permission to build in the Village). This is one of those side benefits to living in the country, as well. When we lived in a "planned community", folks could be fined for something as simple as a bike left out overnight.
- It makes our farm fit in the neighborhood better asthetically. The Village gives the place that country ecclectic look, sometimes known around here as the "poor white trash" look. Besides, it kinda "goes" with the house on the corner with 14 broken-down cars parked in the front yard.
- The children come in at the end of the day covered from head-to-foot with dirt. It is a great life for a farm kid. Every child should have the opportunity to be that dirty regularly.
I love to go out to visit the Village, to see their home improvements, the new meals cooked that day, get updates on their "gardens", and find out how they have occupied themselves all afternoon. I am often suprised at what they know how to do, how much they really have listened, and what things they have discovered on their own.
I have found that the Village is a place of discovery for me, too.
As a matter of fact, just this morning I discovered the location of my missing measuring cups. Apparently it does take a Village.
The newest addition to the Village, complete with parking area and shed on the back.
A lady's touch: a 'deck' and walkways.
Looks kinda cozy inside. I love the tablecloth.
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Posted in Weirdness At Our House
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Posted in Weirdness At Our House
Folks spend their weekend evenings in all manner of ways. Some go out, some stay in. Some relax in front of the TV, others get a head-start on their weekend chores. Our family doesn't have a set pattern for Friday night activities-we wing it based on whatever is going on at the moment.
This Friday night, our "family-bonding" time was nothing short of, well...weird.
Mr. Visionary holding everyone spellbound with his story-telling.
Chick'n Pick'n Fun! (Missing is The Dreamer, who was on "Doodle Duty".)
Needing to make room in the freezers, we had billions of chickens cooked, and everyone helped bone and chop it.
I know you are anxious to be invited over for some Friday night fun.
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Posted in Weirdness At Our House
Two year olds can make you quickly flip-flop back and forth between panicking because of their dare devil antics and melting because of their incredible cuteness.
The Doodle & The Flower Child
Examples: 1) We have recently been forced to install a cow bell on the front door, as the Doodle has taken up sneaking out of the house at opportune moments when the rest of us are distracted. 2) Whenever we hear a giggling voice scream, "Catch me", we know to run to the top bunk in the girls' room. Doodle climbs up, but can't get back down. 3) This morning we searched the house all in a panic trying to find her. She was hiding inside the TV cabinet (the TV is in the attic), looking at books. 4) Doodle did something to irritate the Dreamer (ds7), and he started fussing at her in a huff. She calmly turned around with one hand on her hip and announced, "You don't need to do all that!" 5) She often tells us that we can't brush her hair because there are "possums in there". 6) She sometimes grabs my cheeks and says, "Mommy, you're cute". Look who's talking, kiddo. |
Posted in Weirdness At Our House
These substances were never meant to be drunk. Gulped, guzzled or gargled, they miss their intended use. On the list of "Things-I-Never-Thought-I'd-Say", is the frequent injunction to my children (namely those of the male persuasion), "It's a condiment, not a beverage".
I have never been a stickler for the purist mentality in feeding small children. If it takes some ketchup to get it down, so be it. I count it a small price to pay for children who eat green vegetables. Granted, it was necessary with the canned variety of
If I were to confess (which I am not), I would readily acknowledge that in my junk food days I regarded a potato chip as simply a crunchy vehicle to load with dip. With the quantities of dip to which I was accustomed, it mattered little if the vehicle were a dry leaf, a credit card, or a four-month-old french fry from the crevices between the car seats. (Don't act like you don't have those.) It simply wasn't about the vehicle.
Even considering my past eating habits, I truly don't believe that condiments were quite as much a staple of my diet as they are for my children. Especially in school, I never ate ketchup. It was too much fun to save the packets for middle school pranks like lining them up in the road in hopes of getting splattered by passing cars. I do remember the kid who ate a full cup of mayonnaise on his french fries every day. As gross as it was to watch, we agreed that it was better than school food.
So, when my children pile high the condiments, I encourage moderation, set some reasonable limits (a tablespoon of ketchup per fry is too much), and am glad that they are eating healthily underneath it all (homemade french fries baked in organic virgin coconut oil). Sure, there are times I cringe, and even feel my own throat being cauterized by the flood of vinegar consumed when my eight-year old son eats collard greens. But he's eating collard greens. There is something to be said for that.
Something along the lines of, "It's a condiment, not a beverage".
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