Saturday, February 28, 2009

Free Yourself

"1, 2, 3, 4, 5" Liam counts and then jumps from the dining room table into my arms.


"Mama, more please?" shouts Liam.

"OK, one more time, then no more jump." I say with my best "I mean business" look.


Most use their dining room table to lay out their best linens and grandma's china and of course practicing eating without drooling, but not us. We do sit and eat every meal at our dark, wooden, eight seater, but through out the day the boys could be standing side-by-side on the table performing the song "open shut them" or sliding to the tunes over the radio.


We do have rules and expectations for our children like no feet on the table while we are eating and everyone cleans their own dishes, but Peter and I have own guidelines to the stuff in our home:


  1. We never buy anything that is not well produced and sturdy.
  2. All the upholstered furniture can be machine washed or covers can be reasonably replaced.
  3. We don't purchase furniture that we will cause a "great depression" (emotionally or financially) if damaged. We are saving our artisan crafted furniture buying for when our children have their own off-spring.
  4. Finally, it has to look good! No frumpy, saggy hand-me-down furniture (when I was pregnant for the last time with Liam I drove all our furniture to the Salvation Army... more about this later).

I don't spend much time yelling at our three,"monkeys" about jumping on the couch or building a fort with the sofa pillows. Instead I can spend time encouraging their bonding and exploration while I get to sit back and check my email or Facebook page without feeling like I have to monitor the boys' every move.


2 comments:

Alicia (aka Dr. Mom) said...

I agree! I'm enjoying your posts and probably even more so since I know your sister-in-law (J.M.) and have heard many great things about you! you're a real inspiration!

Angela Timpone said...

Alicia thanks for the comment!! I love when people leave me a message it makes me think that people actually read my stuff. AMT