Hang on- We're Going... Somewhere

"Without my intense dislike for housework, this book never would have been written. I find it easier to have my kids out exploring than to stay home and clean up after them." Shelley-Anne Wooderson-Los Angeles by Stroller

By being less bossy with my kids, but also engaging with them more instead of getting swallowed into my own world, it's been easier to be at home. It's almost like we're going on a trip. We all get in the car, but I make myself comfortable in the passenger seat, guiding and supporting and maybe navigating a bit. The four year olds are at the wheel, taking us all to some very interesting places.
Take, for instance, our little jaunt last week. That morning heavy clouds glowered and Caleb and Julian were wanting to go to Starbucks. Since we didn't know if it might rain (and I didn't want to go), I nudged them in a different direction and somehow, after a few minutes of me trying very hard not to take over completely, the boys decided to make hot chocolate at home.

My sous-chefs helped me bring all of the ingredients to the table and everyone got a turn mixing and measuring; despite only having 4 ingredients we took our time. While letting each little hand put in a tablespoon of cocoa was time consuming, what was the rush? The slow pace steered us quite nicely and kept everyone happy.
We mixed everything up and put the pot on the stove. I pulled out some applesauce and crackers. We ate and played peekaboo while the milk slowly warmed. I realized that it almost didn't matter terribly what we were doing when I was trying to make time with my boys just as long as we were together and an atmosphere of no-fights prevailed.

When the chocolate was done the big boys served us. They pulled some newspapers onto the table. It felt like we had found our own little cafe! I asked the boys what the name of our cafe was. 'The Hot Chocolate Cafe!" said Julian. Everybody laughed at that. The babies didn't really get it, but they squealed with glee anyways. After awhile I suggested we make some menus. On the newspaper they started writing "lists" of all the things they "needed for the cafe". They giggled and scribbled for nearly ten minutes. Included were: macaroni, cars, Buzz Light Year, apples, spoons, yo yos, jelly beans, chocolate and hot chocolate. I didn't write anything, I didn't even try to correct Caleb's pen-holding. But I did pull out our "cafe" sign and had them help me read it. We drank and drank all the hot chocolate until it was gone, and then everyone went down for naps/quiet time.



I've never been to the Hot Chocolate cafe before. It's not on any map and I don't think any of us knew it existed before we dredged it up. I can't say we'll ever find it again, but I'm sure glad I let them steer us along to its cozy little corners.
On the other hand, another trip that afternoon wasn't quite as successful. I had stupidly ditched out of the passenger seat. The boys kept steering but without my input we all found ourselves in Crackertown.

This doesn't even do justice to the disgusting mess of ground up crumbs scattered all over the house. Enlisting help made it worse. It took me way too long to clean it up.
When I let them drive, it's usually messy, whether or not I'm around. Even at the Hot Chocolate cafe the janitor apparently didn't show up for duty so I had to fill in. Messes can be frustrating, but I don't want to throw the baby out with the bathwater. We all feel better when my kids get real, full access to me for a long stretch of time when they're invested in the play and I'm not trying to duck off.
The summer before I gave birth to Caleb and Julian I visited Morocco, Spain, England and Italy. Looking back, those trips were really wonderful. They opened my eyes, they helped me understand our world better. But in a couple ways, they're right on par with a trip to the Hot Chocolate Cafe. The exhilarating feeling of discovering something new and the tingly excitement that comes with it was reflected in all the shining eyes of my boys, and me I might add. However, I don't ever recommend a trip to that crappy joint called Crackertown. But how to avoid those stinky places? We shall see... ;)