domestic dilettante, humorless feminist shrew

First, the mystery berries have been identified! The brilliant crowd over at MetaFilter IDed them as mock strawberries. Nick and I tested that theory tonight by tasting them, and it seems that once again, the internets were right–pretty like wild berries, but no flavor whatsoever. I have to admit that I’m rather disappointed that they’re not real wild strawberries, but so it goes.

It did give me hope that my rather shady yard could sustain a berry patch, though, so I’m thinking that I may try to put in a strawberry patch next year–smother that chunk of the yard with black tarp and newspaper and rocks, and then come spring, rip that all up, top it off with some nice soil and peat and compost and see what I can do. Eventually, this whole yard’s going to end up being food. I’m hoping that we can get some blueberry bushes in at some point, too. As my friend Lindsay has pointed out, berries grow in forests all the time, and forests are pretty much always shadier than my yard. We’ll see.

In other exciting backyard news, I’m having a bit of a crisis with the the neighbor kids. The thing is that I’m pretty laid back about where Maura plays. We live at the end of a dead-end street, and we have three houses in a row with kids–we’re the first, then our neighbors with a two-year-old boy, and then next to them we have a nine year old, five year old, and two year old. The three backyards are pretty much connected, and the kids run back and forth between them. For the most part, they stick to our driveway (since our yard is the smallest, is full of trees, and is also lots of food) and the other two backyards.

Maura’s pretty aware of her limits–she’s allowed in those three yards, front or back, isn’t allowed in the street, and has to respond when I holler for her. I’m not bothered if she’s outside by herself, because she’s really good about doing those things–she might bitch and moan and cry when I call her in, but she comes.

The thing is that it seems like all the other parents feel like they need to supervise rather more than I do. I can hear the kids from the kitchen, and if there’s significant fighting or crying, I go outside. I think that’s plenty sufficient–the older kids look out for the littler ones (if the little ones are even out) and they all seem to know their limits.

Of course, this means that while I’m making supper or whatever and more often than not, other parents are outside with the kids, and I’m not sure if I should feel guilty about that or not. Maura’s allowed outside regardless of if anyone else is out there, so it’s not like I’m using them as free childcare, they just happen to be be doing it.

And, you know, sometimes they’re all over here–when it’s really hot, we’ll set up a big paddling pool and all the kids will come over and splash around, and Nick and I will keep an eye on them for the afternoon. Obviously, though, that happens rather less frequently when they’re all running around in the afternoon.

Opinions? Should I feel guilty? Should I do something else entirely? Any input would be appreciated, because for the time being, I’m driving myself crazy trying to cook supper and be outside at the same time.