And here I sit, at the ripe old age of 54.5, paying a therapist and a coach to help me resurface and give more free rein to my inner feral wild child...that scrappy 70s and 80s latchkey kid who no one was *really* watching...who, dust-coated and happy, got to wander the fields and forests with her imagination and her dog, who climbed trees and dug clay out of the earth and discovered long-forgotten grape vines and swam in ponds and gambolled around in old barns barefoot and had to be threatened and shoved into wearing the occasional dress for church (grumble)...OH am I missing her now! From here, I can see she's exactly the medicine needed as I step into 55. I didn't lose her, but she got mightily covered up by "appropriateness," fear of being ostracized, buttoning up and fitting in and getting along, learning to drive *safely,* a heavy, steady drip of Protestant-heritage overindexing, etc. etc....it had to happen, but I can feel the restraints on her...she wants OUT! And...I'm working on it as I laugh along with and applaud you and yours. (Also good medicine!) As happens to all of us, the world will attempt to mold those shooting stars of yours soon enough, and in the meantime, I hope their wildness is coating their cells and shoring up their very bones so they can more readily source themselves from it in the years to come. xoxo
I'm not sure if I would be considered a card carrying member of the unparenting movement, but I'll say that a certain level of healthy neglect has helped my now teenagers form into pretty damn cool humans. While results may vary it sounds like your hoodlums are on path to coolness paved with adventure.
We don’t carry cards because we would lose them. And it sounds like you qualify but barely— entirely too elegant, I say. But yr teen ferals sound delightful. Well done, hip hip.
And here I sit, at the ripe old age of 54.5, paying a therapist and a coach to help me resurface and give more free rein to my inner feral wild child...that scrappy 70s and 80s latchkey kid who no one was *really* watching...who, dust-coated and happy, got to wander the fields and forests with her imagination and her dog, who climbed trees and dug clay out of the earth and discovered long-forgotten grape vines and swam in ponds and gambolled around in old barns barefoot and had to be threatened and shoved into wearing the occasional dress for church (grumble)...OH am I missing her now! From here, I can see she's exactly the medicine needed as I step into 55. I didn't lose her, but she got mightily covered up by "appropriateness," fear of being ostracized, buttoning up and fitting in and getting along, learning to drive *safely,* a heavy, steady drip of Protestant-heritage overindexing, etc. etc....it had to happen, but I can feel the restraints on her...she wants OUT! And...I'm working on it as I laugh along with and applaud you and yours. (Also good medicine!) As happens to all of us, the world will attempt to mold those shooting stars of yours soon enough, and in the meantime, I hope their wildness is coating their cells and shoring up their very bones so they can more readily source themselves from it in the years to come. xoxo
Amen, amen, amen.
The cackle in the video is SPECIAL. Good on you for letting it fly free. Unparents FTW!
frayed hammock parenting... check
babysitting by terrorists... check
kids jumping in mud puddles... check
I'm not sure if I would be considered a card carrying member of the unparenting movement, but I'll say that a certain level of healthy neglect has helped my now teenagers form into pretty damn cool humans. While results may vary it sounds like your hoodlums are on path to coolness paved with adventure.
We don’t carry cards because we would lose them. And it sounds like you qualify but barely— entirely too elegant, I say. But yr teen ferals sound delightful. Well done, hip hip.