“Stuff”

Girl time

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I had the opportunity to spend the afternoon with just my girl recently.  Since my son was out and about for special time with my husband, I offered to take her out and about for a snack; anywhere she wanted to go.  Where would she like to go for a treat?  Her choice.

Her choice?  “Starbucks.”

(Gah!!  I’ve completely corrupted my child!!  She’s only six, for crying out loud!)

So….to Starbucks we went.  It’s right around the corner from our house (wait….can’t pretty much everyone say that?) and as we pulled into the parking lot she asked if we could go to the girly-girl store that was in the strip mall behind the coffeeshop.  I bargained:  a trip to the home-stuff store for me, and I’d take her to her store.

Deal.

After thoroughly enjoying her raspberry truffle cake pop (“Mommy!  This is the best food I have ever eaten in my entire life!!”) we went to look at “her” store, one of those tween shops that’s really too old for her, with cute (expensive) clothes and a gazillion (pricey) accessories.  As we pulled up, she announced that “just looking in the window makes me happy.”  My stomach turned….am I raising some materialistic little brat?  “Why does that store make you happy?”

“Because it’s all pink and purple!  It’s just happy colors!”

Whew…

We strolled the store, and she looked at everything, her enthusiasm unbounded.  Not once did she ask for anything.  Not once did she request, beseech, inquire, suggest, or demand.  She was beyond happy just to look, to see all the fun stuff, and then, when we were done, to walk out empty-handed; chattering away about her favorite finds.

I’m still in awe of her attitude.  Her willingness to deeply enjoy everything around her (especially the food), and her willingness to walk away from all of it with a smile on her face:  she’d enjoyed it, and she’d have lovely memories of it, and now she was done.  No greed, no ugliness in her heart; just a sincere joy in everything we did together.

Joyful gratefulness?  Grateful joyfulness?  I don’t know what to call it, but I want it.

Why we will not downsize (probably)

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I’ve been reading minimalist blogs for a while, and it seems to have been a very trendy topic for young singles or young marrieds.  I often found myself rolling my eyes and muttering but wait until you have kids.

Well, now I’m being challenged by a new discovery:  blogs written by families, with children (sometimes lots of children), and their stories of simplifying and downsizing (sometimes really downsizing).  Finding out a family of four can thrive in a one-bedroom apartment is a bit of a shock to the system.  All my blathering on about decluttering loses something when I face the fact that we still have a stinkin’ big house.  I’ve wondered often in the past if the size of our home made those who knew me gag:  what a hypocrite!  what kind of simple living is she talking about?

[Full disclosure:  our home is, according to 2010 numbers (all I’m finding at this point), a totally American average 2300 square feet, with its finished basement.  I think it’s huge, but the homes 2 1/2 times the size of ours to our immediate east tend to put a different perspective on things.]

I’ve thought a lot lately about our home, about moving, about really downsizing and what that would look like.  Some things I’m mulling over:

First of all, there’s the very basic cost analysis.  The work we would need to do to sell this house, for what we would get for the house, to then buy (nope, not renting, sorry–there’s another reason I’ll never be a “true” minimalist) another house….the math doesn’t add up.  And I’m selfish:  even though I like the idea of downsizing, I tend to look at home prices and say “but our house is so much nicer for the price!”  Paying more for less house (a very real possibility in our location, especially with what we have left on the mortgage) doesn’t really appeal to me.  Paying less for less house seems to mean copious amounts of renovation…. defeating the purpose of paying less in the first place.

Secondly, I’m incredibly blessed to have the space we have, and am reminded of it each and every time we go on vacation.  Any time we stay in a hotel, I spend 95% of my time there in high-stress mode, constantly reminding the kids to be quiet:  there are people next door; there are people downstairs; there are people sleeping…. I turn into monster-mommy, trying to clamp a lid on my little ones normal noise level.  The same thing happens at home, too, on Saturday mornings:  shhh… Daddy’s still sleeping.  But wait:  at home, on those Saturday mornings, I get to say go to the basement; you can be as loud as you want down there.  Stress level:  zero.  That, for me, is a wonderful blessing.

Also:  we host.  A lot.  Christmas, Easter, Thanksgiving, birthdays….our families rotate hosting duties, and we have people over, often.  Having that space to spread out after a holiday meal is wonderful.  Even on Saturdays, if my family comes over, we spread out:  my dad might be reading in the relative quiet of the front room, my mom and sister and I chat in the kitchen while my son plays with Legos at the kitchen table, my daughter “does gymnastics” in the living room, and baby cousin bounces in her seat in the living room/kitchen doorway.  We have room to host, in a comfortable way.  And if all the people get to be too much for someone, they can hide upstairs or in the basement when needed.

Which brings me to my last point; my most important point.  We are currently planning to adopt from the foster care system.  Having that space–that ability to be away from someone–is something that I want to hold on to at all costs.  When and if we have more siblings in this house, I want to be able to have the kids separate when necessary:  Sweet boy, head to the basement for awhile; you need some time alone.  I know that there will probably be shared bedrooms in our future, which makes having extra space all that more precious.  I think of our front room our “away room,” an idea from The Not So Big House, and I joke that the big blue chair in the corner is the “alone chair,” where you go when you want to be alone.  So far I’m the only one in this house that uses it (haha), but I think that idea is going to be important when we start meshing who-knows-how-many new personalities into this home.

I know, absolutely, that my intentions of not moving don’t really matter.  We’ve “moved for the last time” three times now, and I fully recognize that my plans are not always God’s plans.  A job loss, a fire, a tornado….all sorts of things could happen to force my hand.  And I’ll take that as it comes.  But right now, I’m going to focus on simplifying and decluttering, and continue being content and incredibly grateful……but not downsizing.

Animal house

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My sweet daughter approached me one morning as I folded laundry.  “Mama…could you please help me sort through my stuffed animals today?  They’re getting a bit out of control.”  I told her of course, I’d be up as soon as I finished what I was doing; while inside I was doing cartwheels about the fact that she made the decision on her own.  No nudging or suggestions from me required.

I’d been watching her pile of animals grow.  They have an assigned spot to “live,” in an old cradle that my mother slept in (and my daughter, too, for a while), and for months–years, really–that cradle has been perfectly sufficient.  Slowly, though, my little one was making “nests” throughout her room for the overflow.  There was a little nest in the less-than-a-foot of space between her chest of drawers and the wall.  There was a nest  between her bedside table and desk.  A tiny nest in a child’s chair.  Each made up carefully with a blanket for the assorted “guests” that would live in that spot.  She had commented a few times on how many nests there were, and apparently she’d finally crossed some sort of line, because she was done.

I took a suggestion from Simplicity Parenting and made three piles:  keep, put away, and give away.  I don’t tend to like the idea of a “put away” pile; I hate the fact that we have toys in storage when some kids have no toys at all….but I also knew that there were so many animals it made sense to not keep everything out.  She sat in her desk chair while I held up each animal (no touching!  Many thanks to Sort It Canada for THAT epiphany) and she pronounced its fate.

As I suspected, the “give away” pile was small.  The “put away” pile, however, was huge.  I was completely unprepared for the amount of animals that my daughter was willing to give up temporarily, some of which I thought of as very important to her.  I was incredibly glad I’d let her make the decisions, because she was much more thorough than I would have been.

That night she went to bed with three animals in her bed.  Every other animal fit in the cradle; all the nests were put away, chairs were now chairs and the floor was back to being a floor.  She kept telling me how much better she felt, how much better the room looked, how nice it was to have everything where it belonged.  We’ve agreed that six months is a good time for a swap:  to pull out the old and put away the current.

I think, though, that I might ask her what animals she wants to retrieve, instead of just dumping out the bucket….I have a suspicion she wouldn’t miss some of those critters if they were gone.

All-American Girl

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Back in April or May, I got an e-mail notifying me that the studio where my daughter used to take dance lessons was offering a special:  half-off on their summer camps.  She decided it might be fun; it had been a year since she’d been to dance and apparently she was missing it.  I looked over the age-appropriate options and asked if she’d rather go to the morning or afternoon class; after much thought, morning was her final verdict.  I then told my daughter about the theme:  by choosing the morning session, “American Girl” was the topic, which meant that all the girls could bring their dolls and take their dance lessons together.  Ever since that moment July 9th couldn’t get here fast enough for her.

I really do think the camp was a sweet idea, but I have to admit that “American Girl” dolls bother me.  There’s something disconcerting–to say the least–about dolls that come with more possessions than many people in the world own.  (One of my favorite “Arthur” episodes on PBS is all about “World Girl” dolls, and one of the characters is surprised to learn that her favorite doll is no longer being made.  “She’s from Tibet,” explains the saleslady.  “It’s a Buddhist country….it didn’t generate enough accessories.”)  Clothes, bedroom sets, pets…..That doesn’t even get into the prices, of both the dolls and all their “stuff.”  And, of course, there’s always more; now there’s a “girl of the year” each year, with her own interests and “stuff.”  And I haven’t even talked about the books.

So while I was excited to see how excited my daughter was, I admit I was a little concerned about how the actual week would go over.  Would there be a lot of they all have the real thing and I don’t?  They had a different doll every day and I only had one?  They had matching outfits for each day of the week and I didn’t? 

Nope.  We just finished day three, and I’m so pleased with how it’s gone.  She came home the first day telling me “who” each of her new friends had, without bitterness or complaint; not only that, but she wasn’t the only girl without “a real one.”  Each day she tells me about a new friend she’s made.  I’ve heard a total of one whole comment about a girl who dressed to match her doll, and it was stated in eagerness, not in jealousy.  Four of them huddled around an American Girl catalog this morning, before class started, and I caught a bit of her part of the conversation:  “I don’t have many clothes to match my doll.  But we do have matching ‘Kit’ pajamas!”  Way to focus on the positive, kiddo.

I wish I could bottle her attitude; keep it for a time in the future when she gets caught up in what others have and she doesn’t.  So far, she seems to have been gifted with an amazingly grateful heart.  I hope that doesn’t change too much.

Piles of Ponies

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My daughter pulled out her tub of “My Little Ponies” from its cubby the other day.  She dug for awhile, and dug some more; picking out an item here and there.  Soon she was digging with enthusiasm, then frustration, and finally she looked at me sheepishly for permission:  “Can I just dump this?”

“Of course!”

So the box threw up ponies and pony accessories all over the carpet…a crazy pile, a jumbled mass of pink and purple plastic, fake hair, and “furniture.”

It was interesting to watch her deal with the enormous mess.  “Do you wanna see my favorite pony?” she asked.

“Sure!”

She shifted the pile around a bit, and finally pulled out a pegasus, carefully, and showed her to me.  Gently, she set it aside, and searched the pile for the matching crown.  That, too, was pulled out carefully and set apart.  Then she returned to the pile, much less enthusiastically.  Picking up a pony, looking at it, throwing it down again.  Shoving the pile around, pushing things back and forth, picking up another piece and chucking it down again.  The favorite pony was treated with care….the rest, apparently, was just a pile of junk.  Too much, too many, too messy…the whole of it was just overwhelming.

It’s easy for me to look at my kids’ toys and notice the “overwhelming.”  We have so many ponies, legos, doll clothes, markers and colored pencils ….the list goes on and on of the things that I should probably weed through with my children; the things that they truly do play with, but are currently swimming in to the point of drowning.  Then I take a step back and remind myself that I need to set an example in love:  what things am I “swimming in” that need to be discarded or passed on?  What things do I use, yet have too much of?  “Paper” tops the list.  Even though I do my best to stay on top of the ongoing, incoming stream of paper that enters this house, it consistently overpowers me at some point.  Books should probably make the list, too; although I do my best to cull books regularly, and our shelves do have space, I know without a doubt there are more I could let go.

Time to take the plank out of my own eye, so I can help them with the speck in theirs…..

Deal with it

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As I was weeding through piles of papers this morning, I was struck by my train of thought:  Why does this always happen?  How do I get on top of stuff, only to let it bog me down again?  How on earth can I keep up this time?  How do women who work outside the home do it–I’m home constantly and I’m still buried by junk!  How many times will I go through this pile again?

Aha!!  I caught myself, and realized exactly what the problem was.  It was suddenly so clear I felt kind of silly for not seeing it before.  While I do battle the incoming stream of papers and “stuff” that enters this home, 90% of the problem was me:  I was forever putting things aside to deal with later.

I’ll put this here for now.

I don’t have time right now.

I’ll take care of that after _______.

There’s no point in doing “x“now, I’ll do it when I do “y“ and save some time. (ha.)

I’ll stack these up and take care of them later.

Oh, the list goes on and on…..but it’s all the same.  Procrastination.

The Flylady website designates each Wednesday as “Anti-Procrastination Day,” challenging you to tackle something you’ve been putting off.  I decided this morning (a kid-free surprise) was my Anti-Procrastination morning, and got to work.  (Kid-free mornings are quite hard to come by in the summer.)  The “office” cabinets in my kitchen I am no longer embarrassed to open in front of people, and the laundry room closet was dealt with before it got out of hand.  (I guess that’s progress, right?  To work on it before things are actually falling on my head?)  The most important part:  papers are actually in the recycling bin, and trash is actually bagged and in the garage, ready to be dumped in our cart.  These are, officially, Things I Will Never Have To Weed Through Again.  Thank goodness.

I wonder what else I could get to before the kids get home?

A beautiful basement

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We had a big gathering at our home recently, which involved at least six couples and over a dozen children.  It was the “over a dozen children” part that led to some serious basement cleaning.  The original intent was to have the get-together outside, but with a high of 102, the basement playroom seemed a bit more practical for at least some of the evening.

One corner of our basement seems to be “Wii central.”  We have thirty-two Wii games (yes, I counted), which actually doesn’t bother me at all:  they line up neatly in their boxes and sit nice and straight on a little built-in shelf.  There’s something very “small” about them; even if there are thirty-two, they’re compact and contained.  The issue is all our musical instruments.

My kids love, love, playing Rock Band.  We started out with Beatles Rock Band and it seemed to grow from there; between the “Just Dance” series and the “Rock Band” series my children not only know who Tom Jones is but also know all the words to “Yoshimi Battles the Pink Robots” by the Flaming Lips.  They’re a bit obsessed; especially my son, who would pick playing Rock Band over watching TV any day.  And, consequently, we’ve got a problem.

We have one set of drums, two microphones, a “keyboard,” two Wii guitars, three (real) bass guitars, two (real) amps, and an acoustic guitar.  And about a bajillion cords with each item.  (That part may be a slight exaggeration….)

So when my husband cleaned up the basement, in the interest of keeping our “stuff” safe and making the basement more of a real play space for our visitors, he packed away all the instruments (and cords).

It’s amazing.

It is so beautiful down there, with nothing at all on the floor in front of the TV….just a basket for a few Wii accessories on the cedar chest and that’s it.  I can’t even describe the difference it’s made in the room as a whole, to have all that stuff (especially the cords) packed up and put away.  (I won’t talk about the difference it’s made in the unfinished part of the basement, where they’re being stored….I’m too busy looking at the lovely.)  I’m trying to think, frantically trying to figure out a way that we can keep the corner looking that nice, even if we get out the instruments.  What would it take?  How could we make it work?  How do we store these things where they’re usable, but not taking over?

I haven’t solved it yet.  I need to think quickly….my son is going to want to play Rock Band at some point, and if I’m not careful, we’re going to have a new batch of cord spaghetti cooked up all over the basement floor.  Again.

The slow spread of “stuff”

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It’s been a busy few days, after a mostly quiet start to our summer.  We’re starting to settle back into normal after a week of Vacation Bible School (meaning very late nights and sleeping-abnormally-late mornings for my kiddos).  As I sat on the sofa recently I looked around and got the distinct impression that things had gotten a little out of control.

I sit and write about “pursuing enough,” and around me “enough” appears to be stealthily multiplying at night.  The dining room table can’t be seen for the piles of legos and lego buckets.  The library books have escaped their basket and appear to be on every single flat surface downstairs.  My son’s steady stream of artwork and papers have crept from the kitchen counter to a small side table in the kitchen to the kitchen table to the dining room….My daughter’s goody bags from VBS have yet to be dealt with, migrating from her place at the table to the kitchen counter and back again.  The worst part, for me, is that I ruined my beautifully clean laundry room closet with one bag of random junk culled from a drawer in my son’s room (I’ll deal with this later).  That one bag will sprout tentacles and my closet will be unusable in a week; I know it.

I’ve spent my downtime this summer reading books like “Simple Country Wisdom” (charming) and “Simplicity Parenting” (amazing), and yet I currently seem to be back to drowning in the swamp of “stuff.”

Here’s the difference, though:  I now know what to do about it.

I think, before, I would spend a lot of time procrastinating about what to do and how to do it because “it’s going to take forever.”  Actually, it takes about fifteen minutes; or ten minutes, or five minutes–however long I want to devote to the problem.  I set a timer and just do it–because even five minutes of uncluttering is an improvement.  Five minutes gets all the library books rounded up and back where they belong.  Five minutes gets all the papers gathered in a single stack (although admittedly it will take another ten to go through them).  The dining table will be reclaimed eventually, ten minutes at a time.  Some things the kids will help with, and some I’ll take care of myself….but it will get done.  I just have to get up and do it.

On that note…..I guess it’s time to get to work.

“Acquired Traditional”

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I joke that our home is furnished in “acquired traditional,” but I truly realized recently that our home really is put together from hand-me-downs.  Not in a sad and decrepit way, but in a “wow, we’ve gotten a lot of furniture from grandparents” kind of way.  My daughter sleeps in my old bed, which was my grandmother’s (on my father’s side) bed.  We have a desk in our front room where I scrapbook, which belonged to my grandmother on my mother’s side.  Even the dishes stacked in our kitchen cabinets belonged to my grandparents.

I was thinking about this recently in light of the idea of “accumulating.” As I started to really evaluate our rooms, I found that often, passed-down furniture outnumbers store-bought furniture; quite drastically, in some cases.  Our front room is a perfect example:  four pieces of furniture; three of which are from family.  The dining room:  four pieces of furniture, counting the table and chairs as one item; again, three of those items are from family.  (Which is why, if pressed, I would give away my table over my corner cabinets.  The table we found at a huge furniture store.  The cabinets were my great-grandmother’s, and come complete with a story attached.)

Why does any of this matter?  Why is this suddenly on my mind?  Because there’s a foreclosure in our neighborhood that’s about $46,200 less than the current mortgage we hold.  The wheels are turning in my brain….could we move?  Should we move?  One of our biggest reasons for not moving again has been to make sure the kids don’t have to change schools; in this case, they’d be staying put, so that excuse is out the window.  So this is a real possibility.  Could we do this?

I’ve driven by the house about five times over the past week.  It’s definitely a “fixer-upper.”  How much of that $46K would end up being spent on “fixing-up?”  It’s listed as a four bedroom, but it’s technically three, plus a bedroom added to the basement.  I’m not a fan of kids sleeping in basement bedrooms….

The list goes on and on, with little “not-quite-right” and “wouldn’t-quite-work” items.  Honestly, though, the biggest problem boils down to our (read: my) hand-me-down “stuff.”  I might not be big on a lot of “stuff,” but the bit I keep is apparently very important to me.  If I don’t have a place to put the piano…or the corner cabinets…or the desk…I don’t think I want the house.

If we ever decide to truly downsize, once the kids are grown and gone, making decisions about what to do away with is going to be exceptionally difficult.  I’m currently choosing to look at the upside of this situation:  I have a beautifully furnished home full of wonderful memories of wonderful people.  As my kids get older, they’ll be hearing stories about these items and learn why they make me smile.

My Paradox

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I moved the living room furniture last week, pushing the sofa directly in front of our bay window.  (It’s air conditioner season here, so I don’t anticipate opening the window anytime soon.)  I was completely not expecting the enthusiastic response I got from both my kids, who appeared to be positively thrilled with the new arrangement.  My daughter was actually dancing around the room.  “Why?” I finally asked.  “Why do you like the furniture this way?”

“For our nest!!” my daughter announced.  And, yes, by the next afternoon there was a pile behind the sofa, and the spot was officially dubbed their “nest.”

There are no fewer than nine blankets and six pillows back there.  The amount of stuff in that nook, which is maybe eight feet at it’s very widest point (but it’s a bay, so it narrows to about 3 1/2′), looks ridiculous.  (Actually, to be honest, it looks quite comfy.)  All the blankets and pillows are tumbled and tossed together, in a jumble of chaos where the “dividing line” between my kids’ spaces is vaguely discernable by a color change:  one side is mostly blue, one side is mostly pink.  It’s the definition of “excess.”

But….

If one of the high points of my kids’ summer is the ability to make a “nest;” to snuggle in behind the sofa, in the dappled shade of the trees that grow just outside the window, and read a book; or to just hang out together (as they often do)…..then, isn’t that a definition of simplicity?