Feast After Famine: One of 'Those' Neighbors

Until recently, I thought I was a good neighbor. 

I mow the grass, tend our gardens, share vegetables and flowers with neighbors, and linger on the sidewalk when people want to chat. I manage to get the trash cans back to their right spot without too much delay and I pick up our dog's crap. 

We don't have a rusted-out El Camino on blocks on the front yard, host rowdy keggers with bonfires in the back or howl at the full moon.

You'd be happy to call us neighbors, right? Maybe not. 

A few weeks ago, Del Ray Patch columnist Jen Desaultes wrote  that erupted outside a neighbor's house and she noted, among other things, that out of respect for her neighbors she doesn't let her children play outside before 9 a.m. unless they're doing something quiet. And she's watching closely. 

I was shocked because I throw the doors open as soon as the breakfast dishes are cleared—sometimes before—and let our four loose in the yard. My kids are like sheep dogs; they need to run. They need fresh air and dirt and sand and make-believe in the bushes. Hell, I need all of those things too and most days I'm out there with them. 

But sometimes I'm not. Sometimes, I steal a quiet moment in the house while they play in the gated yard. I put away dishes, pick up books strewn across the floor, fold laundry or, gasp, try to have an uninterrupted conversation with my husband. 

And all of this takes place well before 9 a.m. 

So, I took the issue to Facebook and asked my friends where they stood on the 9 o'clock courtesy kid rule. And again, I was floored when the majority agreed that kids should stay inside until 9. Just like lawnmowers, noisy dogs and tools. 

I told my husband I felt like I entered a portal to a different world because I seriously had no idea my kids and I might be annoying neighbors by playing with chalk and jump ropes on the front sidewalk at 8 a.m. on a Saturday morning. A glorious spring morning, mind you. So magnificent that it would have felt criminal to me to keep the kids inside. 

Then, yesterday, I read a friend's post and realized our sins run deeper. Meredith at Bueno Baby wrote a hilarious piece about a conversation with her husband in which he asked why they had a large appliance box in the front yard. 

"Because, I got sick of looking at it in the living room, obviously, and the kids wanted to use it as a fort," she said. To which her husband replied: "So, we're those neighbors now."

And I realized, oh my God, we're those neighbors too! 

Because the morning my kids were outside with chalk and jump ropes, they also played with two oversized boxes that held the compost tumbler my husband and I recently put together. Every day for more than a week, the kids dragged the boxes from the porch to the yard to play houseboat or library. They ate cookies in the boxes, tied jump ropes through them to drag race them, and decorated them with chalk and fallen flowers. 

The boxes migrated to the backyard a few days ago and one of them is so seriously destroyed it's just about headed to the recycling bin. But not before it gets a few more rounds of afternoon and, yes, early-morning play. Because here's what I realized after all of this, we are those neighbors. And I'm OK with that. 

Click here to read more of Dana's Feast After Famine.