A Rich Life


Very young children live in an edenic, prelapsarian world (I’ve always wanted to use that word — prelapsarian — in a sentence on my blog.  It’s a good day when I can work that in right away, even if all it means is “before the fall”)

I used to think that if my children didn’t have a word for certain unpleasant concepts like “war,” and “race” (not racial race but foot race, with all the horrible winning and losing issues that come with it), and “hitting-your-brother-with-your-boxer shorts-and-then-throwing-a-battery-at-him-for good-measure” we’d eke out our tenancy in the Eden that is childhood for a little longer.

We all know that’s terribly deluded, because all of us are pretty much hardwired to want to kick the pants of everyone we’re running close to, if we do ever actually get up to that speed, and we are all dying to hit our relatives with our underwear.

Nevertheless, one effort at making language fit the world I want to live in revolves around the word “rich,” a word I think needs to be much, much more broadly defined than the oodles of money, Richie Rich use of that word.  Rich, I announced, when a definition was requested, means having a lot of something that matters to you.  I have taken a poll (which means I asked Jack) to discover what we are currently rich in and here it is, as of November 2, 2007:

  • love
  • books
  • scars and bruises (oops, that’s not exactly where I was headed)
  • shoes — okay, we’re veering in a bad direction here, I being the person with the shoe problem
  • stationery items (ditto)
  • great food, both parents being pretty fabulous cooks

Okay, now that you know how we’re doing rich-wise, here’s our Little House on the Prairie accounting:

It’s not even noon and I’ve already handed a child $20 to go ice skating, there being no school for him today and that being the activity his friend is taking him to do.  W said that if we truly lived on the prairie we’d just have to wait a few weeks, and then it would snow, and the river (or lake) would freeze and the boys could ice skate on that.  I never ever thought I’d see the day when the prairie would win out over the bay area as a place to live. 

I considered, and then abandoned, the idea of having William go to Parent’s Night Out at his school so W and I could go out.  (And do what?  Movies are not in the plan here.  We could go for a nice walk!  No, no, we could RACE each other around the neighborhood.)  Parent’s Night Out costs $20 and therefore is out of the question.

Child who was cruising overstock.com and noticed that Chuck Taylor All-Stars are $9.99 a pair (you might want to check that out, all of you who are spending the month blogging daily or writing a novel) was told sternly that he’d have to wait until December to buy them, if he still wanted them.  “But I had no choice in this whole prairie thing,” he wailed.  Neither did Laura and Mary, dude. 


7 thoughts on “A Rich Life

  1. I am having panic attacks for you. I could try this in January. I could probably do this, in January. But November? What about getting ahead on your Christmas shopping? What about buying christmas cards? WHAT ABOUT PUMPKIN SPICE LATTES? Okay, clearly, I have a problem. I serious problem. I so would not cut it on the prairie or in the bloglily home :-).

  2. Courtney. Darling. It’s okay! We’re going to make our Christmas presents out of dryer lint, left over toothpaste tubes, and corncobs. As for pumpkin spice lattes, that might fit into the rule that we only spend money on food. After all, we can’t grow it ourselves — not the pumpkin anyway, and certainly not the spices.

  3. I’m thinking along the same lines as Courtney, here. My first reaction was: did I spend any money the past two days? Can I do this this month, too? Then, I thought, “Wait a minute. You have to buy bookshelves for the library if you ever want all your books unpacked, and you need towel racks for the kitchen, and Bob needs new pants, because right now he’s beginning to look like the prairie bachelor pastor who didn’t know how to mend his own clothes. Better wait till January.”

  4. David — Wasn’t that a movie with Brad Pitt in it? One where he looked particularly prairie-handsome?

    Emily, Prairie handsome is how your husband must look in his prairie bachelor pants — I laughed thinking about that. One thing I’ve neglected to mention about LHPM is that we’ve done quite a bit of preparation for it. A little like Ma laying in stores of jam and pickled beets for the winter, I bought FIVE PAIRS OF SHOES in October (admittedly, on overstock.com, so they were cheap, but still, how Imelda Marcus can a woman get?) to get me through November. Everything else can really wait, my only other true necessity being nice food, and that’s allowed.

  5. Thank goodness you stocked up on shoes, or I don’t know how you could expect to make it through. I do admire your efforts; but I so enjoy spending money.

  6. I am also addicted to stationary items…my dearest sweetie bought some plain white paper/envelopes last year for my birthday and hand painted 100 sheets and 100 envelopes for me to make it personal.

    I save all cards that can be reused as postcards and I encourage letter writing, even i am the only one who can read my daughters and my son spells, “I mist you ” to his grandparents.

    Letter writing is underated and underused now a days and it is nice to meet a fellow letter writer!

Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out / Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out / Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out / Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out / Change )

Connecting to %s