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Tradition:  noun.  The practice of passing down customs, beliefs or other knowledge from parents to their children.

When I was a new mom (I had just one child, and he wasn’t quite 2 yet) my brother gave me some interesting advice.  He said his only regret was not developing family traditions.  You see, his son was grown and living in another state.  They rarely saw him as there was no tradition to pull him home.  You know, the “But we always…(fill in the blank) for Memorial Day, Christmas, Birthdays, etc.”   My brother is of the generation that rebelled against the establishment and tradition for tradition’s sake.  So they carefully raised their son with no traditions.

As parents trying to craft an Uncommon Childhood, we might be tempted to do the same.  After all, aren’t traditions just meaningless repetition? (more…)

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My son just turned one last week. Cringing at the idea of being gifted with countless toys, my husband and I decided to request “no gifts” on his birthday invitation. It’s not that we don’t like toys, we do! It’s just that we like to screen and limit the toys that enter our house to those that foster creative and problem-solving play.

In my previous life (the one before marrying a musician and quitting my stable job to live on the road in a green conversion van) I was a Child Life Specialist. My entire job revolved around working with children in a medical setting to maintain socially and developmentally appropriate skills through play. Play is so essential to a child’s development. Play is how children learn.

Aware that play is my son’s primary occupation, I want to surround him with the toys that allow him to be an active participant in his work. (more…)

“A flower garden? Sounds like a chick trip to me,” said my husband, peering over my shoulder as I clicked the ‘English’ icon on the Dutch website.

Having been born and raised in Iowa, I recalled the hubbub that occurred every spring over the Pella Tulip Festival.

Now, living in central Europe, I had the opportunity to visit a place that had been exporting its bulbs before America was even discovered, the garden that started it all—the Keukenhof.

The words “tulip garden” inevitably conjure the image of old ladies trailed by reluctant husbands who shuffle from bench to bench, as the women chatter and snap photos for their scrapbooks with disposable cameras.

Despite initial misgivings (and groans in more than one quarter of the household), the Keukenhof Gardens near Leiden, Holland, turned out to be one of the best trips our family has ever taken.

Granted, the park contains more retirees than a Florida golf course, but in the presence of such vibrant and unusual flowers, it is easy to feel you’ve been transported to a land more wonderful and magical than even L. Frank Baum could have described.

If you think the Keukenhof is just a bunch of tulips, take a closer look. (more…)

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One of the things that AMAZES me about the internet is the sheer volume of information available. There is just so much out there; it seems endless!

From time to time we’re going to take a Monday and throw out some links to things that we think are pretty cool and might be of interest to families dedicated to living Uncommon lives. If you have suggestions for links we haven’t found yet, or books you’d like to nominate for review, please send us an e-mail! (more…)

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My mother is an artist. If you were to ask her, “Do you consider yourself an artist?” She would shift uncomfortably and finally say something like,“Well, I don’t know, what’s an artist? No, not really.”

But she is; and not because she went back to school when Josh and I were nearly grown and got an art degree (although she did just that).

She was born an artist, it’s in her soul.

• When I was two she was painting flowers on bread paddles.
• When I was four she learned to do stained glass and has subsequently filled an entire church with windows and more.
• When I was about 13 she was dabbling in water colors and acrylics.

Throughout my whole life she has sewn and patched together a life of beauty no matter whether home was:

• A log cabin with black tar slopped between the logs that got soft and warm in the summer and stuck to my fingers when I pressed on it.
• Or antique Ford van in the middle of a desert.
• A tent compound surrounded by electric fencing.
• Or camper.
• Even a chicken coop… yes, I lived in a chicken coop (no chickens, thankfully).

She is an artist.

I’ve been thinking lately about the Art of Life and the many gifts my mother gave me. (more…)