It happens every year. I take down the Christmas tree, the lights, the green and red decor. I purge. I throw away the dried-out Christmas cookies in the ugly and unsealable tin. I rampage through our fridge, tossing the limp and long-forgotten produce in the bin.
And then— I take it a step further. Because who doesn’t love to push the boundaries just a little?
(image via Pinterest)
I make my way, sneakily, stealthily to my daughter’s room. I open drawers she hasn’t opened in months. I take out shoes and clothes she grew out of in September. I find sad, dried markers that have not been united with their caps in a lifetime. It’s all got to go.
I wish I could explain the sense of moral superiority I feel when I drop off a huge bag of this stuff at the Goodwill. It’s a unique high I don’t think I’ll ever stop chasing.
Because here’s the thing: I want LESS. So much less. It is with less that I am truly my happiest and calmest self.
As parents, I think we are so over-stimulated much of the time, both physically and mentally. But it has seeped in slowly, over time, so that we don’t realize until we’re swamped beneath it. I have been on a simplification journey for much of my adult life, but especially after becoming a parent. However, our hyper-consumerist culture fights me at every turn.
We live in a world designed to capitalize on us. Our time, our attention, and of course, our money, are all precious commodities that people and businesses are thirsty for. Remember when Instagram was ad-free? Neither do I. I used to log into that silly little app to see pictures of my friends on vacation, but now it’s ad after ad designed to target me and my wallet. I hate it so much.
The thing is, that next purchase does not hold the key to my happiness. No matter what thousands of reviewers and my favorite influencer might say.
I’ve realized that wanting less stuff is a tricky space to navigate when it comes to children. Americans are ingrained to believe that kids need so. much. STUFF. I don’t need to prove this to you, just wander through the toys section at Target sometime. My skin has started itching.
I felt this so strongly a few years ago when my daughter was invited to a 2nd birthday party of an acquaintance. The family lived in a modest suburban home. Upon entering, I figured the mom must run an in-home daycare, due to the amount of toys and children’s items piled in every room of the house. The birthday girl in question was an only child, so why else would they have so many items?
But of course, dear reader, there was no in-home daycare to explain the literal hundreds of children’s toys. There was just one girl, and her loving, adoring family. Parents so in love with their daughter, they shelled out for a trundle bed. You know, a bed with another bed hidden underneath it? Yes, the little girl needed two beds in her room, one for her, and the other to accommodate her growing collection of stuffed animals that became so large they were able to unionize and fight for better living conditions. Honestly, good for them.
I’m not trying to shame this family or any family like them. Because in reality, this is the norm. I was appalled to learn that the average American child receives 70 new toys each year (!!!!!), yet studies show that children become overwhelmed and overstimulated by too many options. Their little brains are not wired for so many choices.
Just like my little brain is not wired for so much stuff. Because more clothes mean more laundry. And more shelves to hold more things mean more surfaces that collect dust. More dishes mean more washing and more toys mean more minutes each day spent tidying. And yes, I do love shoes, but I only have two feet that can only wear one pair of shoes at a time.
If you’re on a simplification journey, I applaud you. And if you’re on this journey as a parent I applaud you even harder. It’s not for the faint of heart, but I truly believe it’s so so important. If you want to get started, here’s a few nuggets I can leave you with:
Remove a few toys your kids don’t play with. Stick them in a bag in the closet. Wait a few weeks— has anyone come looking for that stuff? No? Away it goes.
Invest in experiences over things. Museum tickets, trips to the aquarium, Lego Land, the theater— these are all things we’ve gifted my daughter instead of toys that she has loved and enjoyed.
Don’t buy ‘just because’ stuff. My kids don’t get things just because they went to the dentist, or did well on a school project. Maybe that’s mean? But I don’t want them to correlate rewards = more stuff in their brains. (Also, I don’t get ‘just because’ stuff!)
Clean surfaces are soothing. Maybe this is just a me thing, but I love a clean surface in my home. Try it and see.
Maybe cancel Amazon Prime? Okay, okay, I see I lost some of you there. All I’m saying is we’ve been living Primeless for over a year now and the sky hasn’t fallen in.
Wishing you a year of less!
Interesting how we came to a similar point by different paths.
After my first year of piano lessons, I felt deeply unsatisfied—not because I wanted more, or less, or better things.
I wanted different things.
All I longed for was a room big enough for a grand piano. In a small house by the sea, where I could swim in the morning.
Then a notebook, to write. And internet, to read.
Nothing else.
As a big fan of decluttering, I'd favor this big!! I'm always on a quest to give away old scraps, clothes, and things that haven't been of much use to me in months from the house! Yes, the point is to always live simply, and why not a bit lighter too!