Everyone tells new parents that babies are hard but teenagers are harder. Which is not true and a monstrous thing to say to someone already drowning in exhaustion and anxiety. Toddlers are harder than infants, but you only realize that later after the smoke clears and you have a second baby. Foot soldiers on active duty on the front line have it harder than parents, but that's the only harder job that comes to mind. Actually, being a cop today is probably harder than parenting. What drives people to tell this smug and ugly lie about teenagers to new parents? Selective memory? Jealousy?

Our society is terribly confused about who teenagers are. Teenagers are people, grown people. If you are  a control freak or hell bent on clinging to the days your children desperately needed you, you may think of teenagers as more difficult than babies. If you've bought into the idea that intelligence can only be properly nurtured through 13 years marched lock-step through the industrial military education complex, you may find yourself the proud parents of difficult teenagers. If you think of teenagers as contrary, unhappy, disdainful, and difficult you may find yourself the proud parents of difficult teenagers.

The teenagers I know are not like that. They are a whole lot like ordinary people. They are reasonable, likable, intelligent, trustworthy, capable, and one ginormously huge site easier to deal with than babies. And I don't mean just my kids. I am speaking of the entire community of teenagers I know.

Homeschooling teenagers requires consideration of a few new issues: sex, drugs, admitting your children are becoming adults and shifting your behavior accordingly. It is scary to think of new young adults out making dicey choices in the world. It is also scary to be a new young adult out making dicey choices in the world. Its also scary being an old adult facing difficult choices. All we can do is love one another and cooperate. If 13 years of parenting hasn't already taught you about love and cooperation, you're probably past help.

Parenting teenagers means everything gets easier. Traveling is easier, going out to dinner is easier, shopping is easier, being alone with your spouse is easier, planning, living, playing, everything is easier! Plus, you get to watch more interesting movies, share funnier jokes, and stay out later. What's not love?

In our society, the more haunting question is: who is not to love? Often our answer is teenagers and that is the biggest problem they face.

Taken from Scarleteen, a sex education website for teenagers:

"There are rotten people in the world that cannot be cured by magical hippy love. They will always be the way they are and if they are friends/ romantic partners/ parents/ co-workers/ dude who just cut you off in his Acura/ GET AWAY FROM THEM! DO NOT LINGER! You cannot fix Dracula by trying to convince him to just party in the sun with you."  ~Lynda Barry

Domestic violence can happen to anyone of any gender. But women age 16-22 are most susceptible. Why? Because we are taught to have faith in the redemption of every man. Every man we love is a good man, ipso facto. Right? Wrong. There are bad people in the world. They will hurt you. Loving them is understandable. But hanging around trying to fix them isn't. SOMETIMES IT TAKES A VERY LONG TIME TO IDENTIFY BAD PEOPLE. Because bad people are good at pretending to be good.

All humans are broken. Some are more broken than others. Choose wisely. Don't squander your life.

kaboom

48 hours ago I was struck by a thought: all this doing what I don't quite want to be doing is not helping me get what I do want. So I gave away my goats. 24 hours later, an hour ago, I got an offer to work on an organic pastured dairy with a handsome young French farmer and his gorgeous wife. 

Thank you, Universe. 

It's important to understand when to let go. Which is a lesson I've been learning my whole life.

Yesterday I let go of the dairy operation at our house. Yes, that means what you think it means. I let my girls go. And I feel a bit sad. But not too sad. Because they went to live in a MUCH more appropriate, warm, happy, convivial, and spacious place. They went to live with The Goddess of All Things Micro-farmed. Seriously, this is the woman you want in charge of your life, and everyone living with her is lucky. That's where my girls are now. That is definitely the right choice for them.

This is their shelter at our house, in an over browsed pen, with chewed up trees. Kind of cute, but not so much, if you're the ones actually living there every day. Yes, we could have built them a better house and a much bigger yard. In fact, that was the plan. But as plans will, they keep changing. The new better plan is to buy a bigger farm. Which would be another right choice for my girls. However, that keeps not quite happening. Yet it looms close enough to stall building anything bigger in the mean time. While the humans are stuck in a circular planning quandary, the goats were stuck in a small circular fence. After a year and a half, that began to feel uncool and selfish.

There were many successful aspects to our home dairy project. We've proven we absolutely can keep goats here, and most suburban folks have plenty of room for goats. Though Nigerian Dwarfs would be a more appropriate size choice. Stepping outside to milk has been nothing but delightful. Sharing company with Tulip and Vanilla has been awesome. I didn't realize how often I check on them. About a 1000 times each day, apparently. They have given milk, fertilizer, and love. We miss them already.

But making the right choice for them, prioritizing their quality of life, definitely feels right.

The aforementioned Goddess stopped by last night with a cake she made to celebrate our farm trade. Honestly, at whose home would you rather live? No contest! Each little pig is hand made, people. Who has this kind of time, attention to detail, and generosity? The Goddess, of course.

 

I stood in my kitchen this morning eating cake and feeling fine in my work boots, flannel nightgown, and wooly scarf. (What, pjs are one of the perks of micro farming.) Knowing when to let go in life is key. And we all know what they say: when one door closes another opens. 

"THERE'S A MAN IN THE HOUSE." That was the thing you had to yell as you opened the front door, if you were bringing a man home. I was born into a traditional situation with a Mom, Dad, older brother, and two younger sisters. But by 1976, it wasn't so traditional at my house anymore and both of the guys were gone. My father, literally. My brother, for all practical purposes. So it was just us girls and you really did need to issue a warning if you were changing up the gender dynamic. And so you shouted out fair warning. Probably also there was a touch of bragging implied.

Last night a new man arrived at our house. His name is Sampson. He is fine and large and very well mannered. An intelligent fellow, I'm certain.  He is a five year old Delaware rooster. He has never spurred anyone, passes on his docile genes to raise nice babies, and is a good flock protector.

We never planned to have a rooster. We actively planned to never have a rooster, is the truth. But Sampson was bullied out of his old flock by a fresh young upstart who actually plucked out one of Sampson's eyes. (Ouch!) Plus, we like roosters. We like their manly beauty, we like their crowing, we love babies, and we aren't sad to have extra vigilant help around the place. So, now there is a man in house!

 He was bit slow to leave the coop this morning, hesitant. The ladies were encouraging and curious. 

 Hunger finally won over prudence and out he went in search of breakfast. 

 Where he couldn't help but also notice the local action. The hens made sure of that. 

 He is quite lovely. We are happy to have him. And the most important business was soon resumed. 

I must find one of these ducks. I must look EXACTLY  like this duck. And it must have a working pull string. Any help welcome. Thanks.