Parenting Through Boredom

I've been thinking a lot about boredom this summer, and I have decided that it might be the single most useful parenting tool in existence. After patience, obviously.

Let me explain.

Waaaayyy back in the 1970s, when I was a child, summer looked like this: wake up, eat breakfast, clean up your dishes, go outside. On Saturdays, there was an hour or two of chores to do before being set free, and periodically, there were requirements to weed or mow or mulch or some such in the yard. But otherwise, we went out into the fresh warm morning and found something to do. After lunch, we did the same. Sometimes I stayed indoors and read. Other times I wandered across the street to listen to records at my friend's house. There were days when I went next door and helped Teresa make the sock dolls she sold at the craft market (I only did the non-skilled bits, like stuffing their tiny legs or sewing on their buttons). I did a lot of babysitting. Then I climbed the giant magnolia down the block, book in hand, and settled myself in the crook of the tree to read some more.

One summer, we wrote, rehearsed, made costumes and sets for, and then performed a play. Another summer, we collected seeds from our mother's prodigious flower garden, packaged them, and labeled them for sale to all the neighbors. We went to the swimming pool, when we could convince someone to give us a ride -- but no adult stayed with us to supervise. We sewed things: clothes for ourselves, scarves for friends.

I wrote stories.

After dinner (again, kitchen help required, and then we were set free), we ran outside to play Kick the Can and Tiger and other games with kids up and down the block.

The only rules about how we spent our time were that we had to finish our chores before we walked out the door, we had to give mom a vague idea of where we'd be ("outside playing" was considered sufficient), we had to let mom know if we went inside anyone's house (for the simple reason that then we would not hear her when she opened the front door to shout that it was time to come home and help with dinner), and we had to come home to go to sleep at some point. We moved into this neighborhood when I was 11, and my sisters are both younger than I, so it's not like we were independent teenagers at this point.

And yet, we were left mostly to our own devices for several months on end.

It was glorious.

Now, of course, it is hard for most of us to imagine just letting our kids roam around neighborhoods unsupervised. (Unless we are radical mothers.) And yet, despite our fears for their safety, I think we are largely doing our children a disservice by not giving them some measure of the independence we ourselves had.

I am convinced that our freedom in the summers made us all pretty self-sufficient. My sisters and I are very good at devising projects to keep ourselves occupied. We are all pretty resilient. We are creative. We are perfectly comfortable being on our own for stretches of time.

I want these things for my own children, which is why, this summer, I have been sending them outside to play, unsupervised, in the back yard. Before you call Social Service on me (my kids, after all, are only 3 and 5 1/2 years old), here is the situation. Our backyard is small and fenced. Its biggest danger is that someone could fall off the climbing structure, but they could do the very same right under my watchful eye on the playground. I check on them every few minutes, and I can hear them playing through the open window, but, and I think this is the key, they can't see me and don't think of me as involved in their games.

Over the course of the summer, I have seen them develop tremendous fortitude for entertaining themselves. Back in May, they needed me to guide almost any game they played. Or they felt incomplete if I wasn't witnessing their efforts. Now, they can create the narrative arc of a playtime story all on their own. They still have small, bickering dilemmas, but they are beginning to learn how to resolve them (mostly, Son just pulls some kind of goofy antic to make Daughter stop pouting).

They have, in short, grown to the point where they are no longer dependent upon me for every single activity and idea they have for how to spend their time. I, personally, think that is healthy.

The corollary to this is that, as they are now reaching the age to be enrolled in activities and classes, I do not want their every minute to be scheduled. I will happily enroll Son on a soccer team, which he's been begging for. But he won't get to do t-ball until the soccer season is over because I think it is really important for him to have some time every single day in which he could potentially be bored out of his little mind, and during which he, not me, not a team or coach or teacher, will have to figure out how to stave off that boredom.

We recently had some friends over who were clearly very nervous about the idea of leaving the kids outside to play alone. I can appreciate that. I did not get to this point without lots of discussion and "practice" sessions with my own children. I'd go out to play with them, then leave them alone out there while I came inside to answer the phone or make lunch, gradually increasing the amount of time they could be outside alone to the point where I now trust them even in the unfenced front yard. (They know the rule is that I have to retrieve any balls that land in the street.)

I know not everyone would be comfortable with this. And even my kids, on their quiet, relatively safe, suburban street, will not be allowed alone beyond the boundaries of our yard for a few more years. But it is my hope that by the time they are older, I am confident enough in them to let them go on bike rides through the neighborhood without me trailing along behind.

It is a tricky balance, protecting our children and nurturing their own self-sufficiency. But for me, it's vital to find that line.

And, I'm curious: where is that line for you?