As Erin was selling painted rocks over the backyard fence today, it occurred to me that maybe it's us who should come with a warning label when we live among the normal people within society.
Their kids sell stuff for school fundraisers. Our kid goes to a charter school that doesn't do that, but she will paint rocks and sell them to your kids for pocket change.
Those things in our yard? You call them weeds. We call them wildflowers. No, we will not pull them up... unless they stop blooming.
Our kids play outside. A lot. I frankly have no idea how your yard stays so pristine. I have three kids, and my yard is proof of that. They dig in the dirt, park bikes out front, get paint all over our patio table, and leave toys laying around no matter what I say about it.
We garden. Toward the beginning and middle of any given season, our gardens look great. Toward the end, not so much. This is just the way it is.
Yes, those are stained cloth diapers you see sunning on my patio chairs. I am aware that there is speculation that I do not have a dryer. This is not the case. You see, dryers do not remove stains from diapers, but the sun does. We have a lot of sun here. Hence, I take advantage.
If you look over the wall into my backyard, there's a good chance you will see me nursing baby Chai. He nurses a lot. I never use a cover.
Orren likes to be naked most of the time. We try to keep him clothed if he's outside, but he doesn't always comply. We're ok with that.
Erin likes to sing loudly from the playhouse. In the interest of keeping the peace, we don't allow her to do this at unreasonable hours, but in the interest of not being fun crushing assholes on a full time basis, we do allow her to do it.
We have clear boundaries. You may think they're too strict or too lax, but they're perfect for us.
We don't always wear shoes.
The kids' clothes don't always match. We don't care. We're not really trying to impress anybody.
Yes, our son has really long hair. No, we have no intention of cutting it until he asks for it to be cut. No, people don't mistake him for a girl, and if they did, we really wouldn't care.
See a random group of hippies, goths, punks, and rednecks congregating in our yard with babies? Don't be alarmed. It just means it was my turn to host playgroup.
We got a lot of weird looks today from random passerby (this is the consequence of having low walls around the backyard, and living on the corner). It made me think of why exactly we get stared at here, and you know, it's totally fine with me. Let them stare. We are who we are, and we're ok.
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