Farmin

So. It's been a long day.

We started out at 8 am, (Poor Nate started out at 4 am en route to the airport) to head to Becca's school. We had a great time with the kids, and Luke stood up in front of a class of high schoolers, grabbed his Aunt's hand, and started doing his little side to side dance as he sang the alphabet to them. I was grossly, unduly, proud of my brave little guy. It took his Mama 33 years and two kids to be so comfortable singing in public. It was so much fun. Thanks, Bec.

It was 11 by the time that we were done answering the childhood development questions of two classes of teens and following up on our September visit. Rather than ruin nap time pre lunch, we decided to head to a store that I had been getting emails from for about a year. I had a coupon, and they had announced a "huge sale", so we took a jaunt to check it out. It was a lovely store. The sort of place that I would have just eaten up pre children and pre one income and pre reality of life with actual dirt eating, food messing, bug hunting, toilet water splashing children. I put my foot in my mouth when one of my girlfriends called me to see what I was doing and I answered "Oh, just shopping in some grotesquely overpriced kids store"................ and then went to check out my two measly items with my measly little coupon, and had the owner say to me "I am sorry that you think that our store is overpriced, I try hard to be competitive". Foot. Mouth. Oops.

It was one of those moments in life where I actually was so NOT trying to hurt someones feelings, or call them out, but was just candidly (and I thought quietly) being honest. I went on to tell the now-I-know-is-the-owner that I knew it was not her fault, but the fault of the manufacturers of the children's clothing lines that she carried, and how my two and one year olds trash clothing in various almost incomprehensible ways, and how I love the clothes but simply cannot justify the cost(one dress that I thought was cute was $120....for my one year old. Um, no). We went on to have a lovely discussion about cloth diapers, and I am thrilled with the two small products that I did buy, but man was it awkward there for a moment. She was a lovely woman with a lovely store, and I totally probably made her feel bad, and it made me feel bad. Argh.

Pre me feeling bad, I was perusing the counter and found the business cards of several local businesspeople. I have to tell you that I was awed. There were maybe 6 business cards there. In no particular order:

*One for a babyproofer. Because, you know, you will very likely kill your child DEAD if you don't have someone professionally prepare your home for your own offspring. First thought: they are CHILDREN, not anacondas. Is it really that hard???? Second thought. No, there was no second thought. Mind was getting numbingly blurry.

*One for a professional errand runner. Because, you know, why should you have to bother getting your own sushi, or your own dry cleaning, or your own snowshoes/baby diapers/jewelery cleaning/whatever when you don't have to? Only $30/hour on weekends or early or late errands. What a steal.

*This was the one that really got me. One for a "baby concierge". I had no idea what that meant (in all honesty, I had no idea what any of them fully meant, so of course I grabbed their cards and went to their websites). I came to learn that a "baby concierge" is someone who will come and tell you how to be pregnant, and how to have a baby. They will actually "craft" your baby registry for you, and plan your nursery, and pretty much do everything but actually gestate your child. Now. Call me a cynic......but. I try not to be judgemental on my blog. I try not to even pretend to give other people mothering advice, or whatever. I just try to write about my kids. BUT. This one made me want to throw all that out the window. You know why? Because if you can't:

A. Talk to your friends, research on line, read some books on what a baby might need, than it is possible, QUITE possible, that you are not intelligent enough to actually raise a child.

OR

B. If you are too BUSY to talk to your friends research on line read some books etc on what a baby might need, you may just be too busy to have a child.

So. We went to lunch after that. It was just one of those perfect days where the sky was so blue, the breeze so fresh, and my kids being so edible and endearing, that I did not want it to end.

After naps we headed out amongst a whole nother set of folk. Those less concerned with purchasing $110 organic baby snuzzly blankets shipped in from another country, and those more concerned with actually bettering their own backyard via supporting local organic farms (do I sound judgemental? I just read back through this and it sounds judgemental. Forgive me. Maybe I am judgemental about this. Or maybe I am just a busy Mom living a real life. I can't decipher which it is). Mom Mom came along for the ride, as she was excited to see the farm. We picked peas (which we then consumed, feverishly, with dinner), got our food, and our pastured meat and eggs, and came home. I bathed my decidedly filthy children, and watered the plants, and here I am.

If only my baby concierge could come mop my floors for me, then give me a bath, then tuck me in bed.

Or is that more errand runner territory?

Maybe I should just call for a personal yoga lesson and chill-the-heck-out.

(As a disclaimer, as an ardent Capitalist, I think that it is totally fantastic that these people are doing these things. I wish them great success, even if I do not understand a bit of it.)

(As another aside, when I spell checked this post, my spell check cried foul at my use of babyproofer. It suggested just one term as a conceivable alternative : bombproofer. It is worthy of consideration that spell check is wiser than it seems, at times.)