Back Again

I sometimes facetiously describe my upbringing as feral. My siblings and I were raised in a laissez-faire household, with few restrictions and fewer routines. I didn't begin thinking of our family as pretty far outside the mainstream until high school, when the differences became more pronounced. The attitude towards possessions in our house was that the idea of "personal" basically didn't exist - it was par for the course for me to wear a pair of my dad's jeans with a shirt left behind by one of my sister's friends on any given day. Grunge culture ruled in our house until at least 1999, so androgynous, ill-fitting clothing was highly sought after. My parents also had a relaxed attitude towards guests, and, as my siblings and I went to the same high school, it wasn't unusual to run into any member of the student body in my living room or out by the pond.

When I was in high school, I thought I had the coolest parents on the planet. No rules! No curfew! No chores! Not having to engage in meaningless rituals like family dinner! Years later, I read David Sedaris' memoirs and recognized elements of my own clan in his family's idiosyncracies.

Later in my 20s, however, I felt that I had been done a great disservice. I craved parents who would worry over whom I was hanging out with and what time I would be home. I wanted a home-cooked meal. I found it difficult to keep my home clean and blamed my lack of exposure to the process growing up. I reveled in eating a proper dinner with my husband each night and in maintaining a chore schedule. I was happy to be boring.

Now, I'm back in my parents' abode and seeing the chaos with fresh eyes. Sure, there are downsides, like the disgusting carpet on the second floor that my parents haven't quite gotten around to replacing. But the air of relaxation and being out of the rat race that permeates this place is undeniable. My dad typically doesn't go into his office until the afternoon - it means he has to work later, but it gives him time to enjoy a leisurely breakfast on the deck and maybe get a bike ride in. If the weather is particularly nice, he takes a day off work and he and my mom hit the beach (he has over 6 months of unused leave.)

I've become more and more convinced that a high-powered life is not for me. The European creed of "Work to live" resonates much more strongly with our little tribe than the American "Live to work." It's one of the reasons that Shakira is now an ex-pat. So here, on the 5.5 acres where I came of age, I will teach my daughter to embrace this crazy pack she was born into. I wonder if feralness is a dominant trait?