Now, I'm not normally into parenting self-help books (or, using the word "parent" as a verb) unless said book is filled with sarcastic humor and includes several inventive cocktail recipes with instructions on how to train your children to make the cocktails for you. Preferably shaken and not stirred, and with a whimsical garnish of fruit and little umbrellas.
But, this book seemed right up my alley. You see, I've been looking around lately at the parents around me, and I'm noticing that we're starting to fall more and more into two groups: (1) the parents that are clamoring to sign their children up for every extra-curricular activity and competitive sport (preferably, an expensive travel team) that may give their precious off-spring a better than average chance in hell of getting a college scholarship to Harvard (or will, at least, impress the other mommies and daddies with their own dedication to enriching their sweetum's life experiences at the age of 8, savings account be damned!) or (2) moms and dads like me that are so darn sick of the very idea of living out of our minivans while shuttling our wee-ones to pee-wee t-ball practice at Orioles camp and ballet lessons for 4 year olds at Julliard that we just want to collapse on our hand-me-down sofas with a cold one and watch bad reality TV for 3 days straight while our kiddos decorate our driveway with chalk and sprayed Capri-Sun done Jackson Pollack style, with a few dropped Cheez-its for texture.
Basically, I needed confirmation that my way laidback childrearing style was not going to permenently destroy my children's chances of getting into Anne Arundel Community College (since, at this point, that's all they'll be able to afford on the money we've set aside for them in their college savings accounts). Or, cause them to fail at life and boomerang back home to life in our basement when they're 40 years old, collecting Star Trek memorabilia as their retirement savings plan and playing on-line games involving avatars for 36 hours straight while yelling upstairs for more pizza and Mountain Dew.
But, this book seemed to confirm what my husband and I decided to do when raising our kids--let them play outside for hours a day, let boredom be the push they need for creativity, eat dinner together every single night, and mostly, to let children be children. No push for highly competititve organized sports before adolescence, limited access to screens (TV, computer, and hand held video games), and an overall drum circle and Kumbaya feeling to the home. I'm not saying I'm about to go all commune on everyone, and start nicknaming my kids after rainbows and unicorns, but it did convince me that I'm not the only parent in the world who's wondering what the heck happened to the childhoods most of us remember, where we'd disappear for hours while riding our bikes with friends, or creating a whole world of wonder in the backyard or woods.
The only problem with what the book required for "simplicity" was the severe culling of toys and belongings. And, I do mean, SEVERE. Keeping only a few books and maybe a dozen toys (which did not involve batteries and only the minimal amount of plastic) to encourage creativity and imagination.
Now, the super organized and super clean part of me got all revved up with this! I could finally throw all the crap away that my kids hoard in their rooms and in their playroom. All the broken crayons, fast-food toys, blinking bleeping noise-makers from hell that well meaning (or revenge seeking) gift givers have joyfully handed over to us in colorful birthday or holiday wrapping. And, all the toys that people give us when they decide to clean their own playrooms and garages and "just thought your kids would love this!"
I was imagining lovely cubbies filled with color coordinated and labelled baskets of Legos and matchbox cars and toy horses. Maybe a pretty chalkboard painted wall with an attached table for childlike crafting with new boxes of washable markers and colored pencils. A nice rug from Pottery Barn Kids, with some soft seating and a pretty non-chipped bookcase with only a few wholesome books waiting to be read out loud by their sweet tempered, relaxed hippie momma after a snack of quinoa salad and vegan pita chips with organic humus...
Then, I woke up.
To even begin this dream of simplicity, I would have to rent a dumpster. And, possibly request the services of those nice guys from 1-800-GOTJUNK. Forget my earlier thoughts of a couple of leaf bags and a snow shovel--these bunnies of mine have managed to
And, to make things worse, the viral meme is true--Mexican drug lords could learn a thing or two from me from my ability to smuggle a bag of crumpled art projects, pilfered pinecones, painted rocks, and broken toys out to the trash without being detected.
What makes things worse is--my munchkins are on "high alert" since they've been watching me peruse Pinterest for ideas on "organizing craft supplies" and "modern and miminal kids' rooms". They're requesting me to homeschool them more to keep a sniper's eye on me when I'm cleaning the house then because they wish to experience a Classical Education at home. And, while they both love the fact I read to them at lease 30-60 minutes every night, they want to be read Horrible Harry and Animal Ark with a side of Nancy Drew and American Girl mysteries. Any attempt at The Secret Garden, Caddie Woodlawn, or Treasure Island has been met with dramatic sighs and groans that can be heard down the block.
In the end, I think what the book was encouraging us parents to do was find that all elusive "balance". The balance between work and family; TV watching and tree climbing; the modern American lifestyle and an old-fashioned idyllic childhood.
It's going to be a challenge, but I do intend to simply our household this fall. To clear out our kiddy-clutter and reclaim more of the house for the adults (who actually pay the darn mortgage, yet control the least amount of square footage in the house!). To get a little "old fashioned" on their little kid butts and show them that less can really be more. More time to play. More time to snuggle. More time to be kids in this world that wants them to grow up too fast.
Wish me luck--I think it'll be a bumpy ride...
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