It Takes a Village to Raise a Child

Since the family left and after reading this article (about an experience I would give me left arm to have), I have had a few opportunities to ponder the truth in that statement.
As I've grown up, my thoughts on the definition of family have evolved. As a result of my parents divorce, I had a much different family than many of my peers. The nice thing about this was that I had more people to "choose from" for lack of a better term. I was a very sensitive kid and needed to be treated gently and with support - tough love didn't do a damn thing, but develop within me a sense of mistrust. Having some really great friends in my mom's circle and an aunt and uncle and cousin who took us in as though we were their own whenever necessary really benefited me at the time and long term, helped me to feel okay surrounding myself with supportive, kind people who genuinely care about me, rather than a huge group of fluff friends and acquaintances. This is how my village helped me.
The village that took up residence in my own home over the last month benefited my children as well. They are still quite small, so the benefit was less specific, but their needs were better fulfilled than I could ever manage on my own. They had lots of playmates, reading companions, cuddle-givers and general supervisors. The house was kept more orderly than it has been in months, despite the fact that logic dictates more people equals more mess. Most significant though was the fact that the children saw different people - different personalities, different problem-solving styles, different mannerisms. They heard conversation and jokes and human interaction which, with a small household, isn't in as great a supply and isn't nearly as dynamic. They heard stories and learned their family's history. I could go on and on, but suffice to say that I am now a firm believer in this philosophy and look forward to the next insurgence of villagers.