Check it out. Chris has designed me a new website on wordpress that I will be publishing my blog through. So now you can find me on www.woolsey6.com. Once inside my blog, if you navigate to another page, you can always get back to the current posting by clicking on the Woolsey Family Chronicles header.
Today I was thinking about a village. You know, the whole “it takes a village to raise a child” philosophy. The philosophy that other countries seem to embrace in their culture. Chris and I went on our honeymoon in Costa Rica. We had a tour guide named Flaco (which means skinny in Spanish). He was 21 years old and married with two children. One day he showed us his village. It was a very modest set of small building strangely linked together, almost like a set of four boxes that make up a larger rectangle. Flaco told us that he and his wife and kids lived in the one small house, his parents in another, his grandparents in another and his siblings resided in the remaining. They all lived together in this set of close-knit homes that made up a family village. It was fascinating to me. I was not envious at the time. First of all, how could he only be 21 and be married with two kids. Secondly, how could he live in such a small house next to his entire extended family?
I did not understand, nor did I appreciate the concept of the village. I had just gotten married and wasn’t planning on kids for a few years. I was interested in bigger homes and more independence from my entire family unit. It wasn’t that I didn’t love my family and want to spend time with them. It is my culture that is dictating what is good and normal for me, and it was not normal for every living relative to live within arms reach of me.
Almost 10 years later I am a little envious. To have a life so simple and so centered around being close to family is admirable. Lets be honest, the village concept would truly work for me right now. I have a highly energetic five-year old and three, yes three, two-year old children. There is always someone having a bad day. There is always someone who doesn’t like what I am serving for breakfast, lunch or dinner. Someone is always getting hurt. For example, the other day Elsa and Violet were playing with the door, opening and closing it, when Elsa got her middle finger closed in the hinge section of the door. The door was closed all the way. Once her finger was released from the closed door, a big chunk of her skin was flapping in the wind. It took more than a week of every day maintenance and antibacterial sprays, creams and bandages to finally heal the wretched wound. Anyone interested in becoming a part of the Woolsey6 village? Room and board is included. Cleaning 15 dirty diapers, breaking up countless brawls, serious hard labor in the form of lifting and carrying 20+ pound kids (sometimes two at a time) around the house and up stairs, and lots of hugs, love and kisses also included.
Until next time, the mothership is signing off.