The XX Factor: What women really think.

Lawn Ornaments

Rachael, I've got to back you up on this one, but for different reasons.

First, let me say as the freelancing, stay-at-home mother of a very active 2-year-old that those plastic eyesores save my life on a daily basis between the months of April and October, when we're able to be outside. I, too, am in the 'burbs—well, technically I'm not, being in Kansas City, Mo., proper, but to most city dwellers, my neighborhood of single family homes built in the 1920s would look suburban enough. I don't buy the Little Tikes car, the basketball hoop, or the myriad plastic containers of bubbles strewn across my lawn because I have any illusion that they look nice. I'm not trying to keep up with the Joneses; I'm merely trying to keep the peace. Get cooped up with a toddler screaming for no discernible reason, and you'll be running outside for primary colors, too—anything that will stop the screaming, provide a diversion, create a distraction. And the reason those toys are still strewn across the lawn? Because someone fell down and commenced a new fit of screaming, which needed to be tended to right away by rushing inside for a Band-Aid.

There's another key phrase here: Going to a playground becomes too exhausting for a parent to contemplate. Much of parenthood, I have found, is fueled by decisions unfortunately made because of exhaustion. I'm guessing that Michael Pollan's youth of playing in the lilac and forsythia, held up as what we should be aspiring to, had a very different reality than those of kids today. Even those who "stay home," such as myself, are typically doing some work from home, so that when 8 p.m. rolls around, kids are in bed, and there's time to take the wagon off the front lawn, there's little drive to do so. When I worked full-time, at 8 p.m. I was packing up for the next day of shuttling people off to day care before I passed out; now I'm going up to start my last shift of the evening, writing for whatever deadline I currently have.

This article also reminded me of a recent conversation I had with a rather well-off businessman here in Kansas City who was lamenting people living in suburban developments that are so self-contained, people rarely need to leave them. I don't live in one of them—yet. As I tried to explain to him that the cost of keeping my house in Kansas City proper, fashionably close to the urban core, was going to become prohibitively expensive once my son hit high school (Kansas City, Mo., public schools are notoriously very bad, as they are in D.C., where I used to live—with a few, hard-to-get-into exceptions, they're not an option unless you want to seriously gamble with your child's education), it was like my argument fell on deaf ears. Well, not deaf ears—just more-monied ones failing to appreciate that much as I don't necessarily prefer a beige house in a suburb with no trees, I might not be able to afford the current $9,000-a-year tuition (who knows what it will be in 12 years) needed to send my son to a decent school if I stay in my house and remain in my profession (either freelancing or back at a full-time job). A cheaper house in the lawn-ornamented suburbs where public schools are good will probably make more financial sense for our family, eventually. So you see, it all goes back to economics. Are leafy streets of houses with varied architecture and perhaps fewer swing sets preferable? To many, yes. Are they affordable for most families in the long haul? Certainly not with the way the economy seems to be headed.