Tag Archives: Childhood

Small Town Living – Free to Be a Child

I grew up in this town. We moved here when I was 8 and the majority of my eNorman_Rockwell_-_Fishing_Trip,_They'll_Be_Coming_Back_Next_Week_-_Google_Art_Projectsage brush sunrise flatarly childhood was spent in what we still call “the big house.” We lived on 5 acres of sage brush. We spent a TON of time outside.

We built houses out of tumble weeds and made little trails through the chico, pretending like we were cars speeding around corners. We had a little puddle out back that was deep enough to float a blow up raft in and we spend hours paddling around in it. Whenever we were angry, we “ran away” across the field to a neighbors house who would give us a cookie and call our mother to let her know where we were.marble-champion-1939

We road bikes up and down the dirt road, visiting neighbors and speeding past a house where there was a mean dog that chased us every time. We named him Saddam Hussein. Politically incorrect? Maybe. Our dogs name was George Bush (the first one).

The one time I remember our parents really playing with us, not just taking us somewhere or facilitating play, but actually playing with us, was the Family Olympics where the got cards with numbers and kept score and we kids participated in foot races around the yard and jumping contests and ice skating on the puddle. It was amazing.

Once, when my parents had a bunch of friends over and the kids were left to their own devices, we used our kite string to make a giant spider web around the whole living room.Norman_Rockwell_-_No_Swimming_-_Google_Art_Project

Truth: Childhood doesn’t have to be perfect and your kids don’t need to be entertained by you. Let them enjoy their imaginations. Let them come up with their own stuff. They won’t die or be stunted.

Childhood Remembered

I remember. When I was young, maybe 10, I started journaling. Even before that, I remember my feelings about life. I might remember more than any of my siblings. Although I was never the touchy feely type, I did always have very strong feelings. They were feelings of wanting to be treated like a grown up. I had feelings of indignation and embarrassment and I felt like I should have been born knowing everything. How could I possibly mess up and have to deal with the consequences?

Abby (6) is learning to write. I’m hoping that she will journal as much as I did. I go back to those old journals and look at my writing and my feelings and it helps be to understand her. I’m not always the best mother. I hope I can be better by remembering my own childhood as much as possible. I always want to do as much as I can to understand her every time something happens.

This is soooo hard. When the rush of life has me in a hurry, it’s harder to stop and think about her feelings and why her reasoning is headed in a direction. But when I take the time, when I stop, it’s better.

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Freedom Trail

Treated the five year old to some of our nation’s history while visiting my parents. It was just a small piece but its beginning to open up her little world. It’s probably¬† what I miss the most about the living on the East coast. The HISTORY!!!

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Bunker Hill Monument
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Boston Cityscape
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Old Ironsides row of cannon’s
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Following the Freedom Trail
U.S.S
Old Ironsides Black and White
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At the Side Yard
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Sharing a piece of History
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Old North Church