Sunday Scribblings offers up "my style" as its prompt this week. I can sum up my own style in one easy, albeit hyphenated, word: kid-friendly. [Actually, my kids might argue that "friendly" is not part of my style, but, screw 'em.]
My house? A Tahoe-style, wooded tree house situated on a half-acre of mountainous terrain in a San Francisco Bay Area suburb. The elementary school, middle school and high school are all within walking and biking distance. The property includes a pool, a tree house and several decks, including one holding the trampoline. The car port contains a pop-up camper, which is in the popped-up mode for group sleeping.
The house is large enough to give each kid his/her own room, with a family room and playroom thrown in for good measure. Add to it a secret room within the confines of Youngest's bedroom and a cave beneath the house for Indiana Jones-style adventures, and the area to find one own's space and not bug the crap out of another person is there for the beholding. [Now, if they'd just behold it more often.]
The cupboards are full, containing most any type of food a kid would want to devour. [Upon receiving verbal approval, of course.] There is no such thing as "glass ware." All our cups are durable. The dishes are there for the taking, with no angst if there is breaking.
The very luxurious leather couches Pete and I bought when we first moved into our dream house show the wear and tear of the kids. We harbored a dream of keeping the living room furniture intact. The dream lasted less than six weeks. Then we realized, hell, it's only furniture.
No real works of art, except for the projects the kids have made over the years. Pictures on the wall are almost exclusively those of the kids. Anything of monetary value was long ago either packed up or sold to pay for our own baby boom. Much is priceless here, but priceless only to us.
Quality clothes and jewelry haven't been worn in years. For me, it's jeans and T-shirts, which I replace only as a last resort. And, then, by shopping at our favorite upscale Target store.
I go into other people's homes, those with kids and those without, and I am always amazed at how adult and fashionable and stylish those homes are. I feel as if I'm just one step above the concrete blocks and pieces of lumber of my college days. Well, maybe a couple of steps above.
Never was my style -- and Pete's -- more evident than it was this weekend. We sprung the kids early from school on Friday, vroomed down to Anaheim, spent 12 hours at Disneyland on Saturday, and vroomed back up this afternoon. Along the way, we made a few kids' dreams come true.
Yes, it's kid-friendly, this style of mine. It won't be forever. So I'll just sit back and enjoy it while it lasts.