Photo by Tim Pierce

I have to admit. My first impression of Walden Pond wasn’t good. Don Henley’s “The Last Resort” was playing through my mind as I parked in the HUGE parking lot and walked with my kids by the tourist information signs, crossed the busy street in front of impatient drivers, and made our way down the ramp to the OMG overcrowded beach.

Where were we going to sit? I’m rather used to having lots of space at the beach. Spending so much time on the Gulf Coast, where we had miles and miles of pristine white-sand beach, rather spoiled me.

But then I saw this group of hippies. A long-haired guy, a couple of familiar-looking women with beautiful tattoos, awesome kids running around, and I knew that there would, literally, be a place for me. And there was. My friends saved me a spot to spread out my blanket.

My idealized image of Walden didn’t exactly fit with what I encountered. For one thing, people were EVERYWHERE. I had assumed that visiting on a weekday would mean fewer people I would have to share my experience with.  Greedily, I wanted the peace and tranquility, the sublime naturalness that inspired words that always spoke to my soul and helped transform me into the person I am today. But, as I’m an eternal optimist and a ridiculously good sport, I let the cacophony of giggling youth wash over me. I watched my kids join the masses of children, including 7 other children from our group, in the traditional ritual of summer — leaping, flinging, sun-dazed, water-frenzied, castle-building non-stop activity. I took it all in. In short, I had a wonderful day among friends in a beautiful place that, while crowded and LOUD and unlike the image I had built up in my mind, still managed to creep into my heart.

And I had a little monologue going on in my brain while splashing around in the shallow water, a response to the most often quoted line in that song of Henley’s: “They call it paradise, I don’t know why. You call someplace ‘paradise’, kiss it goodbye.” Well, yes, we are certainly leaving our mark in this once-pristine place. But we are filling this (somewhat holy…) site with laughter and joy. I got the same sense of pleasure that I get when I watch my kids play in a cemetery. I think holy, sacred places WANT to feel the pattering of little feet, to hear the screeches of joy. We humans CAN destroy natural places, yes. But we can also energize the spirit of these sacred woods. In short, we bring the sacred. Is a forest sacred inherently? Or does it take the addition of human sentience, of our appreciation of it as so, as sacred, for it to BE? It’s not a question that I believe has an objective, quantifiable answer. I do feel that as long as we appreciate it, inhabit that space conscientiously, thoughtfully, we get to inherit and celebrate the holy and are welcome.

I know that I will always be among the group of people who continue to lobby for protection of such places for future generations. I will add my voice to the uproar when decisions are made to further commercialize Walden, decisions that negatively impact the area environmentally. But I’ll also join the throngs in celebrating this beautiful place by enjoying its cool waters, its gorgeous vista with my children on hot summer days. And I’ll think of Henry T as I trespass some late summer evening with friends to slip my naked body into the clear calm stillness and swim gracefully and quietly, pondering on the sense of Wildness one can still feel at night in such places, and leaving only grateful ripples that gently tickle the shore.

Scary?

It was rather awesome, actually. We decided to undergo this experiment in part to see how the girls handled the responsibility of putting THEMSELVES to bed. And, oh, who am I kidding, also because I was too damn tired to stay awake much longer anyway! So, our kids told us when it was time for bed, and we followed by their rules and finished up our evening duties to follow their bedtime schedule.

We had to brush our teeth and get into our pajamas, and then we both got a massage. Laurel’s little fists of fury actually felt rather good on my upper back. I did have to convince her that punching my breasts would NOT actually make me feel calm and ready for bed, but she relented easily.

Each girl read us a bedtime story. This ritual took FAR too long. But, Laurel told us we had to find the mouse in every picture in Goodnight Moon. And the book that Kelsey read, Kiss GoodNight, had action parts in it! She also lost focus at several points during the book because she was completely exhausted, and we had to remind her gently that if she didn’t finish soon, her parents would fall asleep without night nights.

Hearing your children sing the songs that you have sung to them for years, their intonations mimicking your own, is completely charming and “Awww” worthy. Allen and I melted into puddles of goo under the covers with the cuteness. We then got night nights, noseies, kisses, hugs, and they put out the light and left the room.

And it only took a gentle reminder 15 minutes later that it was also bedtime for THEM. The lights were put out, and two tired little parents-in-training put themselves to bed and didn’t get out of bed until 9 this morning, except for some 4am nightmare activity, which is par for their ages.

All in all, the experiment was a total win. I did fully expect the younger child to go overboard with her new sense of power, though. I figured she’d be hanging out in the living room on my computer, doing some online gambling while sipping a glass of red wine, my purse slung over her shoulder and plans to rule the world all laid out. But she actually used her power responsibly, didn’t bludgeon anyone OR send her sister into fits of crying. Maybe Napoleon is growing up?

Kelsey and Laurel have agreed that we need to have more reversals in the future, including one in which they are responsible for preparing a meal. Although I don’t relish the idea of two girls with BIG imaginations coming up with a new recipe for me to have to digest (they usually include ketchup along with milk and peanut butter…), I do think we’ll try to give the girls some more control and power in small doses and let them level up a bit in our household dynamic. Maybe I can even get some help with the laundry at some point!

I fully endorse the concept of reversal to the parents of kids over 5. Giving them a sense of power over their parents seemed to satisfy a need to show us that they really could handle more responsibility than we thought they could. Bonus points were the warm fuzzies we felt at seeing the bedtime rituals we’ve crafted over the years from a different perspective, and witnessing the sweet, nurturing behaviors of two kids who, lately, seem to be fighting for every scrap of attention and independence they can squeeze from us.

A few weeks ago, I sat down with my five-year-old on my lap and asked her to read a page out of a book for me. I didn’t expect her to actually read it. She read the entire book, almost without any help. It’s like she learned to read, literally, overnight. Sure, we’ve been going over the easy-reader “Bob” books with her, and having her try to sound out small words on the magna doodle. But, truly, I think all those times we found her up late, sitting in her bed well past bedtime, trying to read books she knew by heart, she was actually working out this whole “reading” thing for herself. Stubborn little thing.

Now she is writing letters. Not “letters” as in the alphabet. She is writing cards and letters to friends and family, sounding out the words by herself and writing them down. Last week, she wrote a letter to her friend, KT. It said “Dear KT, do you know that I love you.” She’s been waiting for a reply all week in the mail. Every day, she asks if a letter has arrived from KT yet.

Today, she decided to take matters into her own hands. Here is the letter she wrote to her friend:

Translation (it’s hard to read, as her g’s are backwards, and she splits her words from one line to the next)

From Laurel to KT
Have you noticed you are not giving
me a letter
because you are supposed to
give a letter back

Short and sweet and to the point. Perhaps KT’s parents, who read this blog, would please prod their child to write a return letter? Or I think more letters will be forthcoming, not all of them this polite?