Front Porch look'in in......

The other day I was sitting in our backyard.  I was sweating to death.  I heard Samantha squealing because she couldn't get the stroller wheels to operate correctly.  I looked up and saw this:

Cute right?  (Please note that we have just finished potty training and bottoms have become optional) 

The next night we were out, again sweating to death, and I stopped and saw this: 

 I started to think.  What in the world do my neighbors think of me?  

 They must think one of two things:

1. I don't believe in doing laundry

2. I am a closet nudest and raising my children to be "free"

We do have a wash directly behind our house and a wall going all the way around, but the neighbors on both sides of us can see directly into our backyard from their upstairs windows.  

That means that they have the ability to see us in our most natural state. 

 They see me first thing in the morning with no make-up, mismatching, over sized pjs, my hair looking as if I were recently electrocuted.  They hear me pretending to be a monster chasing Samantha and baby talking to Madi.  And yes, they hear me being a mom, and with that does come some yelling and scolding.  They see us in a light most of our friends and family have never seen.

All of this got me thinking about the Lonestar song, "My Front Porch Looking In".  It says,  

"My blessings are in front of me

It's not about the land

I'll never beat the view

From my front porch looking in"

From their windows looking out they see a family of ragamuffin hoodlums running amok.   They see morning hair.  And nap time hair.  They see half naked people.  They see breakfast/lunch/dinner smothered faces, hands, and bodies.  They see a yard full of sun worn, well-used, second hand toys.

What I see is much different.  I see freedom.  I see independence.   I see happiness.  I see the pure joy on Samantha's sticky face as she gobbles up her popsicle and the look of accomplishment when she walks the wall all by herself.  I see the contentment in Madilynn's eyes as she is pushed around and around and around in the stroller. 

 I grew up in an age where our backyard (which happens to be a mountain) was our playground.  We had no fence and lived just off a busy street.  My parents never came out to play with us.  We would ride our bikes to the local gas station all by ourselves and buy penny candies.   We played night games.  

 It makes me sad that our kids will probably never know that kind of freedom.  We live in an age of attachment and helicopter parenting.  We hear endless stories on the news of pedophiles and  baby snatchers.  

I just want to give my kids a little piece of what I had growing up.

So, while I am not a nudist,  I am a believer of childhood.   I say let them be little.  Let them be naive.  Let them run and play and explore without a care in the world (all within reason).  Eat a rock or two.  Sand?  Why not.  Run naked.  Some nights it's okay not to wash off their faces after dinner- especially spaghetti nights.  That's what bath time is for. 

 I hope if nothing else my neighbors can say "they sure are a hot mess, but a really happy hot mess!"