Updated: July 29, 2016
Originally Published: Oct. 10, 2005
I was the pioneering mom in my family— the first to experience pregnancy among my peers. From the early days of revealing my news, I faced a steep learning curve about parenting: diapers, playpens, and figuring out when my baby was unwell.
As they grew, new challenges emerged: finding the right vacuum to handle Cheerios, teaching myself to use phrases like “sugar!” instead of “crap,” and instilling simple truths like “Hands aren’t for hitting.”
Along the journey, I unexpectedly found immense joy in parenting, especially through its existential dilemmas. This month’s big question: “Mom, what is a hippie?”
My five-year-old declared, “An old man.” His eight-year-old brother chimed in, “No, it’s a teenager with long hair…and funny clothes…and…” He then described Shaggy from Scooby-Doo before faltering and asking, “Mom, what’s a hippie?”
This moment became a profound exploration. Even in their innocent ways, they sensed there was a deeper socio-political meaning behind the term—an awareness that a “hippie” was more than just a character in their cartoon.
As I began to explain, I realized that to define a hippie, one must understand the cultural backdrop they were rebelling against. In today’s world, where my sons’ teammates sport long hair thanks to trendy moms, how can they grasp the significance of letting one’s hair grow in an era where it was unthinkable? Back when hats were the norm and my grandmother wouldn’t be seen without her pristine white gloves?
To my children, hippies are simply colorful images on party supplies or rhinestone peace signs; they don’t comprehend the radical shift toward a gentler, nature-inspired lifestyle that once challenged the mainstream during tumultuous times. How do I articulate the memories I have of butterflies on my aunt’s wall, floating above a black-and-white poster of Bridge Over Troubled Water?
Though not a hippie myself—my parents were staunchly Republican—I remember associating them with broken bottles at the playground. Yet here I am at 40, driving my SUV with my boys in the back, reflecting on avocado-colored appliances and wondering what the fascination with rainbows was.
Having children has broadened my world, not just in terms of space needed for high chairs and scattered toys, but in how they offer fresh perspectives on life’s wonders.
What was once just dirt is now something to explore; soil becomes something to collect and examine in jars. My son proudly explained how shaking a jar of dirt in water separated layers of mulch, peat, and sand into distinct colors—a beautiful revelation about density.
Life is full of mysteries, each twist and turn offering moments of surprise, joy, and beauty. Whether it’s witnessing a breathtaking sunset or exploring an art piece, these experiences are magnified when shared with someone meaningful. Children, however, discover awe not just on vacations, but in the mundane. “Look!” they exclaim, pointing out the simplest things. They fall in love with the most ordinary flowers at the market, leave treasures like feathers beside my bed, and fill my purse with unexpected rocks.
They take concepts we’ve long known—like the word “hippie”—and transform them into something deeper that we must ponder.
“What is a hippie?” I repeated, preparing to dive into a discussion about self-expression through clothing or the culture of the ’70s. But their laughter interrupted me. Just as they drew me into this complex riddle, they moved on. In their natural way of enriching our lives with depth, they also embraced simplicity, deciding that “hippie” would become their new favorite term for anything unusual, regardless of its true meaning.
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In summary, parenting is an existential journey that reveals the beauty of life through the eyes of children. Their curiosity and simple interpretations of complex ideas invite us to rethink and rediscover the world around us.