I think when we talk about homesteading there are pretty obvious roles that get meted out to the adult members of the family. My husband does the majority of the heavy lifting, with me assisting where I can. He does the bulk of the construction projects, the heavy machinery things, and whatever involves hauling trailers, and wrasslin' the big animals. We've further divided up the responsibilities where he's mostly in charge of the animals, and I focus on the gardening, although of course we work together on different projects in both of those fields all the time--it's just that he knows how much feed to get and can stack the bales of hay and manage the electric fencing, and I order seeds and figure out the composting/mulching, and where to plant everything. This division of labor has been the real key in getting things done on the farm; and more importantly, with the ability to work together as a team, having one person manage each area, we accomplish our projects together with each other's direction. That way all the projects on our list are not the responsibility of any one single person (most of the time), and we can plan together what things need to get done and when. It would be so much more difficult if the entirety of homesteading was on just my husband's or my shoulders, no matter how capable we believe each other to be.
But we have four other members of the family alongside us. What does homesteading look like in relation to kids? And what role do they play on the farm?
Because they're young, most of the homesteading life is enjoying the countryside. It's lazy summer days swinging in the hammock under the shade of the walnut tree. Or reading to a chicken on the rocks in the pasture. They can explore the creek and let me know when the wild water cress is ready to be picked. My five year old checks the patches of miner's lettuce that are starting to grow in because that's her favorite spring time treat. For them, it's jumping in muddy puddles and getting dusty with dirt. They like to pick wildflowers and sing on the hillside, and picnic next to the sandbox.
When we're working together on farm projects, they mill around my husband and I with varying degrees of interest. My seven-year-old would rather sit with her nose in a book, so she'll bring out a towel and an armload of material and just read aloud to herself or whichever sister is nearby while we work somewhere else. My youngest daughters, occasionally "help." They like to be close and pick up tools and leave somewhere with them. Or climb on top of pallets or bales of hay and sometimes be inconveniently located while the grown ups are busy with something else. Sometimes they stick around for the majority of the time, and my husband will give them little jobs to assist.
"Can you hand me a screw for each corner I'm working on?"
"See these weeds growing in the box? Let's pull them out. Yes, you can eat the purslane."
Sometimes they'll lose interest or get distracted by something and wander off on their own little adventures. They occasionally check in to make sure they're not missing out on anything particularly exciting before heading back out.
My oldest, being so big and strong for her age is the most help, and usually around to finish a project. She'll dig holes or help plant seeds, shovel out compost or deliver tools as needed. Sometimes, because she's 9, her enthusiasm for helping sometimes exceeds her ability to help, and that can be very frustrating for someone who very much wants to participate as a grown-up, but we try to give as many jobs they can do as we can. Mostly, her biggest field of expertise is keeping her children out of trouble. She has a strong maternal instinct, and when she senses her sisters getting fidgety or tired, she'll suggest a picnic, and come out with a tray of sliced oranges and sandwiches, or crackers and cheese and various treats that make everyone happy. Plus, she is very good about bringing her Papa big cups of water because he always forgets to hydrate.
All of the children have their own chores and responsibilities both within the home and on the farm. My seven-year old, because she's the biggest reader, is in charge of collecting all the books and toys back on the shelves at the end of the day. My youngest girls are in charge of picking clothes and putting them in the laundry, and reorganizing the entryway, particularly lining up the boots so they're not such a big tripping hazard. The two oldest help with dishes and clearing and setting the table, and making sure their bathroom counter is uncluttered. Everyone is responsible for making their beds and managing their toys and school things. The girls pick a spot at the kitchen counter or dining room table to do their work, and I'm around puttering around them. They'll look up and ask me what I'm doing. Today we're making sour dough. What goes into the dough? They'll watch me can some things. How come it takes so long for some things and not for others? Or we'll make pickles and talk about fermentation and preserving and brewing. They want to help in a lot of the kitchen duties, but I also remind them about what it is to have responsibilities and to do them, and as children, their responsibilities are to get their schoolwork done.
The girls' outside job is to take care of the chickens. They bring out the kitchen scraps and look for eggs. The grown-ups do the feed and water in the morning and evenings, because sometimes that can be a little complicated as we're in between chicken infrastructure set-ups. My big girls will add coffee grounds to the blueberry plants, and they also have a couple garden boxes that are theirs to plant whatever seeds they like and to weed and water throughout the summer. Days where we process meat, the girls are in and out, the little ones perched on stools and chatting away while we work, the big girls working right alongside us, as we do impromptu biology lessons. I think there are a lot of learning opportunities on the farm. We talk about animal husbandry. What is a heat cycle and what does that mean for breeding? (The birds and the bees talk just kind of happens organically regarding animals because it's inescapable, and they see it regularly.) Why do the grazing animals need minerals and supplements and what do they do? How does a drought affect our farm and why are there different seasons? What is the water cycle, and why do we have to conserve resources?
When we're working in the garden, we talk about the biome of the dirt. What even is a biome? Why do we rotate crops and what plants grow in what season? We talk about beneficial bugs, and bugs we'd like to avoid. We talk about pesticides and chemicals and fertilizers and other additives. We identify colors and shapes and parts of the plant. Why are we pruning? What is grafting? How come we can root one type of plant but not another? What makes for a good pig, and what is a good cow, and how to be safe around electricity and livestock. Sometimes I'm not in a teaching mood (and by sometimes, I mean most of the time--my husband is really the patient one, especially if we're doing something physically taxing. The last thing I want to do is waste my breath talking.) but the children trail around me, peppering us with questions, and sometimes they're insightful and we have a decent conversation, and sometimes it's just a "why?" attack and I get disgruntled. My answers become one-word responses very quickly. Usually when this happens, I know they're not even listening and just thinking up a string of questions to throw in my direction. After awhile, I think they can sense my growing grumpiness, and they scatter to do their own play, or be engrossed with something (quietly) next to me.
I hope I don't give off the impression that we're actively making every farming activity a hand's-on "unschooling" homeschooling event, because it's not. I am not that nice and thoughtful of a person, or really all that homeschool minded to plan things like that. Most of the time we try to convince our children they don't want to be working with us that day, or on that project. Sometimes it's things that would be unsafe to have children around (like some tractor work or electrical work). Then I will shamelessly bribe them with some sugar-y treats as long as they play nicely on their own. And to be very honest, sometimes I enjoy working completely alone. Many people say that working in the garden is so relaxing and calming, but for me this is only true if I don't have a child next to me trying to rip out plants or stomping on or unknowingly trampling through my delicate sprouts.
Because working with kids makes everything slooooooow. Even if they're very competent and understanding. Even if there aren't any attention deficit issues and everyone is on the same levels for comprehension. Sometimes the tactile abilities or strength isn't there. Sometimes the patience and maturity levels aren't fully developed. Sometimes it's just not a good idea to let a five year old walk around with a pair of pruners unsupervised. The simple fact is, the smaller people in our family take longer to accomplish things than the grown ups do. This isn't for lack of trying or teaching. It just does. And I have to take a step back and remind myself that we're not in a warehouse, these are teaching and growing moments (for them and for me). Just let go of the reins a little and let your kids get dirty and make mistakes. (It's hard for me to do that because I set very high standards for myself and the disconnect can be difficult.) This means that a project that could've gotten done in a couple hours, requires more breaks, more emotional consoling and conflict resolution, more teaching/warning to avoid injury and to put in more potty breaks and snack breaks.
This is exponentially true with very little children. For the most part, when I had an infant, they would be strapped to my chest or my back as I was working, but this only works for so long before I lose my balance one too many times because I can't see over a baby head or my center of gravity is thrown off, or the baby is sick and tired of being confined next to a sweaty mom, or they want to get down and play, which of course stops all work because you have to make sure they're not eating (too much) dirt or chicken poop or something else unsavory. This, plus breaks to put the baby down for a nap or to nurse meant I was constantly leaving projects in various levels of incompletion and feeling rather frustrated with the whole thing. My husband takes my grumpy self in stride. He's always just simply happy to be outside working with his hands. He always reminds me that we're making progress; we're doing a great job. The kids are happy and wonderful. I'm such a good mom and farmer. How does it feel to be the best one? His jovial optimism and all-around good-natured goofiness sometimes makes me even more grumpy but also it can be infectious, and I complain that I'm just trying to be negative and he's ruining it for me.
Sometimes the lessons we learn in working together sound more like (a lot of action/consequence statements):
"Oh well, we ripped the plant out of the ground and damaged its roots so it isn't going to be able to grow back. Yes, that means it died. We will have to start over with another seed. Yes, that will take more time and it might not have enough time to produce fruit before the weather changes, but we can try."
"Well, the plants in your garden died because we didn't water them. No, they won't come back. You'll have to plant them again and try and remember to water them. That's what our responsibilities are."
"Because no one checked if the chicken coop door was closed behind them, all the chickens got out. We have to get them back inside now. No, we can't leave them outside because they'll dig up the garden or get eaten at night be a predator."
"If you don't collect the eggs, then we won't know which ones are good or bad anymore, and we can't eat them. Also, the dogs will come and find them for you if you don't. And then we won't have any eggs."
Throw on the extra homeschooling time, and the extracurriculars that I insanely signed my children up for, and then family/church/friend obligations and I feel like sometimes we are scrambling for time. As I'm writing this, I'm not sure what time exactly because it's not like there are critical deadlines for the majority of the things we're doing. Yes, some farm emergencies require immediate attention, like containing animals so they don't cause trouble. But for the most part, a lot of the farm schedule is prepping before the summer, and there's a big cushion of time to work with because we live in a zone that has so many warm days. The animals have been doing just fine in whatever living situations we've given them. Not all of them are ideal, but they're also pretty comfortable around us, and we know that we'll get to those projects eventually. I just feel pressure (that I've put upon myself) to do things at a certain pace, and it takes a lot of mental conversations to slow down and breathe. Smell a flower. Spend some time sitting on a rock, and enjoy the animals.
Perhaps that's one of the biggest lessons that my children show me. They so enjoy the days, even the days where we don't get anything done. They like doing their activities and going to all the classes and spending time with friends. But also, my girls can spend an afternoon just watching the cows or feeding fruit to the pigs. They love to lay in the grass and watch the clouds go by and sing princess songs standing with arms outstretched on the big boulders, serenading the entire world. So often they ask me if I want to come out and join them. Many times I can't or won't because I'm in the middle of something---taking advantage of the fact that my children are out of my hair so I can mop the floor or put away the load of laundry that has multiplied and permanently taken residence in my bedroom or finish a blog entry... but sometimes I'll say okay, and we'll have a picnic and watch the guinea fowl parade wiggle past us. They'll show me the pretty wildflowers they found, and we'll try and look them up and see what they do. They'll tell me some stories or some little treasures they've found like a mouse hole or a snakeskin or a delicate, colorful feather. And for a moment, I'm not running to get through a to-do list that no one but myself expects me to get through. My girls beam at me with big shining eyes and I'm so madly in love with them here in this life. It's funny how I can forget that sometimes. But they never forget. They always remember.
So sometimes the days are slow. The projects even slower. My mind is racing a thousand miles an hour, and I am growing more and more anxious to be "productive," and then a little, chubby, oftentimes, sticky, hand slips into mine with a squeeze and a little voice starts chattering about what song bird flew by and the acorns they discovered and are collecting to give to the pigs. And I am reminded that this is my family. My homesteading family. It's not a race to get to any sort of finish. The beauty of the life is in the process and every step along the way, whether fast or slow or excruciatingly slow is a moment that I am so blessed to have with them.
Kommentarer