Stop, Drop and Blog

When I was a brand-spanking-new parent to BigBrother, I wrote this big, self-righteous post about how I wanted to raise kids who liked being outdoors more than they enjoyed being plopped in front of a television set for hours. Written on the old, now-defunct blog but saved elsewhere, I found said post and thought a direct quote would enlighten you about how truly self-righteous I was before I hit that wall of reality that is active parenthood.

It saddens me, nowadays, to see so many children unwilling to play outside. What is even more disturbing and saddening is those who don’t even KNOW how to play outside. Where are the toys? Where is the television? “This is booooorrrrring.” Oh, children. Turn a stick into a magic wand. Or a sword. Just don’t hit that other kid, okay?

Now, don’t smack me. I’ve learned my lesson. Trust me. Because? BigBrother? Wants absolutely nothing to do with inside activities right now. Of course, this started last summer. Remember last summer? When I was huge, round and pregnant? Only outside. Every. Single. Day. Morning. Noon. And evening. Inside was torture. Complete with screaming and bruises from throwing himself on or at the floor. And so, I chopped my hair, threw on a maternity bathing suit and sat with my feet in his baby pool as he climbed in and out and in and out and in and out. And in and out. And then threw sand on me. And in and out.

I thought, perhaps, he might have forgotten about the allure of the outside while the winter months kept us huddled indoors with Thomas, games, cars, trucks, trains, crayons and Play-Doh. Turns out, not quite. He stands at the back door. “Outside! Slide! House! Sandbox! Turtle! Tractor! Outside! RIGHT NOW!” Yes. He says, “RIGHT NOW,” in his Caps Lock voice. I tried to tell him that we don’t tell Mommy “right now,” but he looked at me like I had two heads and said, “whatever.” Oh, oh. Oh.

We just spent the past three days in our backyard and on one two mile walk in the double stroller. LittleBrother takes up camp on two blankets and a playmat under the SPF umbrella with just a smidgen of sunblock on his cheeks and his bald, bald head. He bats at the toys and makes lots of noise while BigBrother runs back and forth and back and forth and back and forth. And falls down and cries. And runs back and forth. And pushes his tractor down the hill into the street. And cries. And back and forth and back and forth. And pees in his pants because taking time to go inside and pee is SO UNACCEPTABLE. And cries. And pushes his tractor through the dirt where FireDad is trying to regrow grass in the spot where we had a foiled attempt at a garden last year. And picks flowers. And goes back to the dirt and throws dirt into the grass while yelling, “ROCKS!” And flings open the windows on his house-cabin-thing and yells, “WHO’S THAT?!” Which startles LittleBrother. Who then cries. And back and forth and back and forth.

Don’t get me wrong. I am proud. I am happy. I like being outside. I like the sun as long as I remember to slather my own pale skin with sunblock. I like the temperatures… right now. Ask me again in July. I could do without neighborhood kids teaching him how to slide down his slide backwards (!) or trying to lure him into the Grumpy Neighbor’s yard (!!) but that’s the price you pay when you live in town. (Oh, how I miss the 89 acres I grew up on!)

And so, the point of this post? Be careful what you ask/wish/pray for. I wanted children who loved to be outside. Now? I’m thankful that it is going to rain today and we can stay inside for more than two minutes. I say this as he stands at the back door saying, “Raining. No no no. I want go outside! NO RAINING!” Might be a long day inside, no?