The Village

I have lots of memories of playing outside as a child without adult supervision.  We built forts in the woods, walked to the creek, and played hide-and-go-seek until bedtime.  All while our parents were inside making dinner or cleaning up dinner or watching TV.  I honestly don't even know what they were doing.  In a lot of these memories, I'm a bit older than my kids, but my younger siblings were always with me and I have one memory in particular I want to share.

 I can't be sure of my exact age, but I know we moved from that house when I was 6.  I know it was warm and my birthday's in the fall, so that makes me think I might have been 5.  And that would make sense, because my mom was probably inside with my 3 year old brother and infant sister.

I decided to play cowgirl using my bike as the horse.  And I would need boots and a hat, of course.  I pulled some dress up clothes out of the playroom and went back outside to ride my bike wearing boots and a hat.  The boots were way too big and I had a lot of trouble staying on the bike.

The yard was huge to me.  I mean, it was like a field.  I haven't been back to that house as an adult, so I have no idea how big it actually is.  Our neighbor, who seemed miles away at the time, was sunbathing.  I think she was a teenager, but I really can't be sure.  Five year old memories do not translate well into adulthood.

So I tried and tried to ride the bike, but because the boots were so big my feet were never actually pushing on the pedals.  The empty toes of the boots just bent up and applied no pressure to make the bike move forward.  I fell over and over again.

Suddenly the neighbor was there beside me in her blue bikini.

"Are you having trouble?" she asked.
"I think your shoes are too big.  Why don't you put your sneakers back on?" she suggested.
"But I'm a cowgirl." I replied.
"Well, how about when you're riding your horse you wear sneakers and change into the boots while your horse rests?"

I lit up at the idea.  She helped me put my shoes back on, then walked back to her blanket and book.  And I played cowgirl.  Switching shoes each time I got on or off the horse.  What a perfect idea.

For whatever reason, that memory is burned in my mind.  When I think of playing as a child, it's always one that pops up.  I have no idea how long I was outside without my mom.  I have no idea what the neighbor's name was.  But it seemed like she was my savior in that moment and it seemed like I was out there all day.

Fast forward to now.  I don't like my kids to be out of my sight.  I try to let them play on their own, but when it's not in the house, that's really hard for me to deal with.  So I made a decision recently.  I was going to force myself to allow them free play, on their own.  If you've heard about the Silver Spring family that's been brought up on child neglect charges for allowing their 6 and 8 year-olds to play at a playground without adult supervision, you'll know the term Free Range Parenting.  I'm not sure I'm as free range as some people, but I'm trying to be that, if just a little bit.  I don't think my mom had a name for it.

I started letting Ainsley and Freddie go, by themselves, to the basketball court in our neighborhood.  It's not far.  They can be home in 2 minutes.  I don't have to walk far before they can hear me call them.  They know about strangers and never going anywhere with anyone unless we know.  I quiz them on this before they leave the house.  Every. Single. Time.

They don't get long.  Maybe 30 minutes before someone is checking on them.  So a couple of weeks ago, I walked down to check on them and they were playing with another girl in the neighborhood.  They were building a tee pee.  They had found huge sticks in the woods and dragged them onto the court.  The situated them in the basketball hoop to create a structure.  I was kind of amazed and I had to admit to myself that if I had been there with them, they never would have done that for a couple reasons...

1 - When I'm around, they expect me to entertain them.  They want me to play with them.  In the house they prefer to just watch TV than to play without me.  And unfortunately, I'm the grown up so someone has to not play and make dinner.

2 - If I had been there, I would have nagged them to watch for dog poo, and not to play with sticks, and you can't use the hoop, and be careful in the woods.

Instead, they had been left to their own imaginations and own rules within the boundaries I had set.  And at that moment, I was sold on the idea.  I would need to push away my own fears and worries so that they could actually have these experiences.

There are rules.  Freddie can not be by himself.  He has to be with Ainsley.  Ainsley is allowed to play outside by herself or with friends in 30 minute blocks.  She has to stay where she tells us she's going and she's not allowed to go in any one's house.  Even friends we know.  When they are bike riding, Freddie has to stay on sidewalks unless a grown up is around.  Ainsley has proven that she's very good about watching for cars, so she can ride in the street.  We talk about strangers every single time they go out.

They've had so much fun with this.  This is the first time, ever, that they've really spent time outside.  We don't have a yard, so I've never just been able to let them play in the yard while I watch from the deck or the kitchen window.  They're both covered with scraped knees and dirty feet.  It reminds me of the way I played as a kid, without play dates, and bounce houses, and organized functions.

Here's the one big difference.  The village is gone.  That mentality that we should all look out for one another and bring each other up instead of pushing each other down.  It's like what I ask my kids when they have to tell me something about someone else.  I say "Are you telling me this because someone is going to get hurt or do you just want to see that person get in trouble?"  We try and teach our kids not to tattle, but society has become one big game of tattling on one another.

That neighbor that came over to help me.  I don't remember her ever talking to my mom.  That doesn't mean it didn't happen...I was 5, what did I know?  Yet she still watched out for me.  She didn't call the police, she didn't knock on my mom's door and condemn her for her parenting choices.  She saw a little kid having issues and she helped.  Period.  When I was a kid, my whole neighborhood watched out for me.  Everyone on the street knew my family and if I fell or needed an adult, there were plenty around.

My kids won't have that and that's sad.  I bet it was nice when you had a whole network of people to lean on if you needed it as a kid - or a parent.  So instead, we'll teach them how to take care of themselves on these 30 minute excursions, and we'll teach them to watch out for one another and any other kid that's with them, and in the end I think they'll end up being better adults for it.  Hopefully ones that don't tattle. Ones that know how to build a village.

My Little Snippets

As I told you in an earlier post, I am an amazing mother and have finally figured out how to get my child to sleep.  Which means, if you know her, then I apparently can get ANY child to go to sleep.  So I should totally write a book and make millions.

Except our routine seems to be ever evolving, so I've revised my wealth plan and instead intend to have a talk show that can be fluid and changing.  Yes, soon I will be rolling naked on my bed atop crisp one hundred dollar bills.

Originally, Ainsley needed an iPhone to play her favorite songs in order for me to leave her at night.  I would cuddle with her through three songs and then I'd tuck her in "snug as a bug in a rug," give her 5 "big hug, big squeeze, kiss, kiss" -es, then say "good night, I love you" over and over again as I walked out the door.

However, now Ainsley doesn't want to listen to music.  I think one night she was crying and saying she just wanted me to stay (see, this is an ever evolving process and 5 months later we still have bad nights) and she didn't want any music.  So instead, I asked her if she wanted to talk for awhile.  She did.  So we talked a little about our days, I asked her some questions and then I tucked  her in "snug as a bug in a rug," gave her 5 "big hug, big squeeze, kiss, kiss" -es, then said "good night, I love you" over and over again as I walked out the door.

The next night she wanted to talk again, but instead she asked me to tell her a story.

"About what?" I asked.
"About you when you were little playing with your brother and sister," she immediately responded.  Okay, way to be specific!

I often say I have a good memory, but I have trouble remembering details of my childhood.  When certain things are brought up, my mind starts filling in the blanks, but getting started can be difficult.

So I told her about sharing a room with my brother when I was very small and I think even having my sister's crib in there at one point.  It was a two bedroom house and we were definitely all born before we moved out of it.  I told her about lining my bed with all my toys at night so they could protect me.  I told her about sitting on the deck of that house with my mom and her teaching me how to count seconds between lightening and thunder and what it meant.

The next night, she asked for more stories.  So again I had to dig deep and think hard.  I told her about playing hide and go seek after dark on summer nights.  I told her about climbing the tree in my back yard and getting stuck so many times that my mom refused to get me any more...so Uncle Levi did.  I told her about walks through the woods to the creek with cousins and neighborhood friends.

After a week of this, I realized I needed to up my game.  Think of real stories if I could.  So every day, I try and take some time to sort through my memory and come up with at least one story about me as a child.  People, try this...not easy!

But, it has been worth it.  It's almost like my brain is opening up to these things now.  Memories that I forgot, sometimes just race before my eyes...

-hiding in a yellow armoir when I was small enough to fit and drawing on the inside of the door
-creating the General Lee from an orange afgan and brown recliner and my brother and I jumping in through the "windows" like Bo and Luke
-learning to dive at my grandmother's small pool, which was way too shallow for diving
-hanging my feet out the car window on a trip to visit friends, losing one of my flip flops and having my dad throw the other one out
-stopping at a convenient store on the way to my grandparents on Christmas day and leaving my brand new patent leather Minnie Mouse purse on a shelf in the toy isle
-in the first house I remember, so I couldn't have been more than 6, packing my bags to run away and my mom telling me that if I was going, I'd have to leave the family the way I came into it - naked and with nothing...but also telling me that she'd miss me (honestly, the only reason I didn't go was because I couldn't imagine being naked outside)
-the teenage boy that cut our lawn when I was about 5 sitting on our couch and singing along to the Eurythmics video "Sweet Dreams Are Made of These"
-my sister stripping out of her diaper and running around our kickball field
-picking berries with my grandmother

They're all just these little snippets.  No real stories.  Sometimes I have to fill in with fiction where I can't remember.  But Ainsley loves them.  She asks me to tell her certain things over and over again.  She loves the one where Carolyn takes her diaper off while we're playing kick ball and I have to chase her naked butt around to get her back in the house.

And these stories make me feel so warm.  I had a great childhood made up of all these tiny little moments that are forever burned in my mind.  As each one comes to mind, I remember the tears or the laughter.  I remember the smells in the air, and a smile always crosses my face.

I hope that I'm giving these same little snippets to Ainsley and Freddie.  Maybe not full stories, but just little memories that they can recall to my grandchildren one day.  And I hope these stories always make them smile.

Cinderella Park

Behind my in-law's house there is a creek.  Along the creek there is a path and at the end of the path there is a playground.  Nothing fancy.  It's called Cinderella Park because one of the aparatuses is in the shape of a carriage.  The playground equipment is old.  Made of metal and wood that's been coated with many shades of paint, the most recent of which is begining to chip.  Except for one tube slide, there is no plastic in sight.  The monkey bars in the shape of a spider are a bit rusty.  The wood in the carriage is splintered.  The rubber seats of the swings are cracked.  There's not a lot of mulch covering the ground, just dirt which often is mud.  It's not brightly colored and it's not elaborate.  It looks nothing like the playgrounds you see today with hard plastic strucures, wood chips covering the ground and sprawling landscapes.

Yesterday I took the kids there.  They've been a few times.  And when we go, I think about how playgrounds aren't made like this anymore.  We, as a society and as parents, are so worried about safety.  Now, I'm not saying we should throw all caution to the wind and go back to the days of no carseats and walkers...but sometimes I wonder if we take it overboard.

Remember those hot summer days where the metal slide burned the back of your thighs?  But they were so fast and so steep that it didn't even matter.  Remember see saws?  Remember having to work together and not bailing on your partner so he didn't get dropped to the ground?  Remember jumping off of a spinning merry-go-round?  Hanging upside down from monkey bars?  You don't see these kinds of things at playgrounds anymore.  I'm sure that kids got hurt on all of these and that's why.  But isn't that also part of growing up?  Being curious, taking action and learning from it?

While at the playground yesterday, Ainsley fell into the mud and this horrible look spread across her face.  The feeling of the mud and the realization of dirtiness set in.  I'm not going to lie, my first instinct was "Oh crap, now she's dirty!"  But I stopped myself and remembered all those millions of times I had to strip down out of my dirty clothes on the back porch because I had been playing in the nearby creek or digging for worms or building tree forts. 

So I helped her up and said "That's okay.  You'r a little kid, you're supposed to get dirty."  And all that concern and worry left her face and she dropped to her knees and shoved her hand right in the mud.  I think we can tolerate a little mud and outdated playground equipment in the name of fun, don't you?