Image by Getty Images via @daylifeIf history has anything to teach us, and I'm still very skeptical that we can learn from the past, it is that all children should be raised on farms. There's just too much nothing for them to do all day long, when they live in the burbs. Take my kids for example. They get up at some ungodly hour, then they proceed to torture each other for the next 2-3 hours. This is all just wonderful, until I get pulled from my dreams to play mediator in a conflict that I have not witnessed. Then, I have to shout out a bunch of empty threats and flip a coin to see which kid is in the wrong, cuz we all know there's not a chance that I'm getting out of bed. So eventually the none sense moves to my room and I catch an elbow in the face or a foot to the jewels.Fast forward to the after school hours. More torture, more screaming, and I still don't want to play mediator. These kids have nothing to do. Sure I could sit them in front of the TV for hours, but then I have to deal with the guilt as I picture their brains slowly melting into a mushy soup. You tell kids TV will melt their brains enough times, you even start to believe it.
If you happen to know someone who was raised on farm, they're generally calm and they know how to fix things. You see a kid raised in front of the TV, then you have a whole new set of issues. They walk around with their eyeballs popping out, always paranoid, always depressed, and they're so full of unused energy they start banging their heads against the wall or carving silhouettes of lovers never had in their arms. Then they start wearing jeans so tight, they must be painted on. Always with the tight jeans and the sad stories. The only tragedy is that this kids' parents never pulled the car over miles from home, pretending to have car trouble, then tell the child it is up to him to run home and get help. I thought of that scenario on my own, your welcome to use it anytime your child feels like a martyr and needs an act of bravery to change their outlook.
Don't get me wrong, I wasn't raised on a farm. I was however raised by a farmer's daughter, in a time that you didn't have to worry about pedophiles, because you were allowed to stereotype that one creepy dude all alone at the park. Sick es oh bee, seriously you can't go creep on someone that is at least borderline legal? Go hang out near a high school you sick freak, then maybe some punk kids will have the decency to throw water balloons at you as they celebrate the exodus bell. With six kids at her disposal and only a four bedroom house, Mom still came up with some pretty creative chores, that we all know were unnecessary. One morning I had to get up at 4 am to milk my brother, or maybe I chose to do that in a form of sweet revenge, the details are fuzzy. After chores, we got on our bikes and disappeared for the remainder of the day.
And that's how it should be in order to keep the balance of sanity between generations. Kids be kids, adults be adults, I'll see you at dinner time, and you better have your homework done.
All I'm saying is these kids are driving me crazy...
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