Posted in Holidays, Insight

Our Culture of STUFF!

“You can never get enough of what you don’t really need.”

Stewart Emery

“If we have become a people so self-centered that we are willing to step over a lifeless body to get a bargain, we have problems that go beyond terrorists, a credit crunch and bad mortgages.”

Bob Shieffer

Last week, we spent an entire morning working on the chaos of toys, games and gagets in the cellar with our son Aidan. There were tears and yelling and complete meltdowns. For everyone.

Once again, we’ve created beautiful, manageable order; and we’ve agreed that at 8 years old, Aidan will be accountable for that which he wishes to keep. But, how appropriate is it for us to allow our child to be immersed in stuff and then to berate him for it? And with Christmas on the horizon and his bedroom wobbling on the constant precipice of cluttered chaos, what’s a family to do?

Surely, everyone loves new things and it is a delight for us as parents to “present” them- but at what cost? Isn’t it a call to action when fellow Americans crush another human being in order to get the best deal in Wal-Mart?

In some ways, consumerism is easier on our family than others because we just can’t afford to buy much of anything, particularly this year with my husband’s continued unemployment. This limitation forces us to put needs, desires and holiday shopping in perspective with the rest of the country and the economy.

And yet, even we– in our modest one-income rural life– are responsible for passing on the culture of “stuff” to our children.

Did you know that one of the largest growing markets in this country is– “storage”? People buy storage units for their extra things while other human beings live on the streets. Something is off with this picture, isn’t it?  And it’s off for all of us–not just the poor or the wealthy.

Imagine what we could do with our time and energy if we didn’t spend it managing our stuff– and that includes everything from our houses to our bills to our cars and our nicknacks and family treasures and photos and catalog orders and box store purchases and boats and bikes and…

With an “overstuffed” mind, I searched for support with this crisis and found two solid resources that I’d like to pass on:

The first gem is a “clutter-free gift list” posted by parents at Flylady.com.  Ideas for all ages include:

-recording books on tape

-family memberships to local museums

-gift certificates for art classes.

Named for her love of fly fishing, “Fly Lady” is a self-described “personal on-line coach to help you gain control of your house and home.”  Her “services” are free in the form of daily email reminders. You can also follow on her Twitter and Facebook.

A popular offering on the Fly Lady site each year is the “Holiday Control Guide,” complete with weekly Holiday Cruising Missions—“so that you can sail through the holidays” without clutter.

While “decluttering” doesn’t address the problem of “stuff” at its roots, it does offer some breathing room while we re-think our priorities.

The new book, Simplicity Parenting, by Australian born educator Kim John Payne, is just the place to do some of that re-thinking. Each chapter highlights both the philosophy and tools of “Using the Extraordinary Power of Less to Raise Calmer, Happier and More Secure Kids.”

Payne’s trademark compassion and sense of humor make this an enjoyable and practical read.  Chapter Three of Simplicity Parenting discusses the toll of “too much stuff” on our children’s emotional and mental health.

Payne offers a “10-Point Checklist” of types of toys to discard and suggests getting rid of half of them—and then another half— and maybe even another half–while holding on to those sentimental items that are most precious to your child.

Surprisingly, Payne applies the same approach to books, as well as clothes and other items that crowd a child’s life.  Even lighting and “scents” are addressed as issues of “too much.”

“Embrace experience over things, and ‘enough’ over always more,” counsels Payne who works on behalf of social well being in schools and communities around the world. “Clear out space, literally and emotionally (to create) a container for relationship and the slow unfolding of childhood.” For more information about Payne’s work, see simplicityparenting.com.

As parents it is often a challenge to feel that we are “enough.”  This may be the root of our constant striving toward “more.”  Perhaps if we slow down and take the time to notice just how much we truly have, our need for “more” will dissipate and our holidays will be filled with just “enough” of all the truly good “stuff.”

Kelly Salasin


Posted in Holidays, Teens

The Thanksgiving Miracle (a.k.a. the teen who stole Thanksgiving)

A few years ago, our Thanksgiving was completely swiped–the likes of the Grinch Who Stole Christmas. Only our villian–or should I say, “our hero,” was an unlikely teenage boy.

Here’s the story:

After we got the turkey in the oven that morning, we went for a family walk.  Our reluctant teenager even joined us.  We circled the pond and tested the ice and watched tiny flakes fall from the sky; then crunched our way home through the as the boys threw snow at each other.

Before leaving for my sister’s for pre-Thanksgiving hors d’oeuvres, we prepared our dinner table, only to discover that we didn’t have eight of anything! Worse of all was the realization that there were only 4 forks left from our silverware collection.

In response to this crisis, the reluctant teenager created a new tradition: setting the table in half blues and half greens (placemats and dishes) with matching silver on one side and a pot-luck assortment on the other.

My husband, a strong Virgo, had to leave the room, but our eight-year old was inspired to contribute an interesting tradition of his own:  filling a piñata that he had scored at the second-hand store the day before.

The day was filled with many, many happy moments and a few “mommy dearest” ones–like when I arrived home from sister’s to find that the turkey was done an hour early… while my teenager moved in slow motion to each desperate request for help.

Our youngest shined in this hour of need, asking eagerly, “Is there anything else I can do?”  At 8, he was naturally helpful, relishing in any moment where he could outshine his big brother.  Plus he had a vested interest in the dinner meal as he had peer arriving to join us, while his brother, dejectedly, did not.

In true adolescent fashion, he was sullen during dinner and dramatically opted out of the post-turkey walk with our guests, plugging himself into his ipod and plopping down on the couch instead.  “At least start putting some dishes in the dishwasher,” I called before leaving.  I dreaded coming back to that mess, but the sun was getting low in the sky, and it was now or never to enjoy what was left of this day.

Our guests laughed at my suggestion that our teen begin the clean up, promising that we would all tackle it together when we returned. We enjoyed a nice long walk up MacArthur Road and arrived back home as the sun dropped behind the mountain.

When we walked in the door, I gasped, as if our house had been robbed. I looked around, confused, bewildered, concerned even.  My teenager was no longer on the couch. He was at the sink. I suspected he jumped up just in time to start loading the dishes when he heard us come up the drive.  And yet something was different…

The wood stove was still there in the middle of the room, but everything else… There was absolutely no evidence of our Thanksgiving Party left behind–not in the living room or the dining room or in the sink. In fact, the kitchen was eerily spotless.  Not a dish or a crumb, not a pot or a pan. Nothing but the smell of turkey and a single glass of chardonnay.

Beguiled and giddy, we put our coats back on and headed down to our neighbors for the pumpkin pie and the piñata… while continuing to marveling over what was sure to be forever called, The Thanksgiving Miracle.

Kelly Salasin

(To read more about the suprises of parenting a teen, click here.)

Posted in Insight, Teens

Flu

Rusinol (visipix.com)

I’ve been horizontal for three days–hit hard with a stomach bug.  This morning, when my 14 year old stops in my room to see if he can call a friend, I ask him to  (please) go downstairs and get me an Advil.  And do you know what he says?!

I can’t right now Mom. I’m doing something else.

He can’t right now, he’s doing something else???  Can you believe he had the gall to say that to the woman who conceived him (with difficulty), carried him (with complication) and birthed him (by emergency caesarean)?

What about the first five years of his life when I nursed him through countless colds, bouts of bronchitis, the occasional pneumonia and the incidence of pleurisy? (Who has even heard of that last one!?)

Not to mention, all the rides to school, to friends, to events…

Of course, I could write a book about just WHY he absolutely HAS to get me an Advil the second I ask–and within moments of my TIRADE on that subject, he did just that–and later today he didn’t blink twice when I made another request.

Is this a teenage thing or a boy thing, I wonder?  I’m guessing it’s largely gender based with a teenage twist.

I remember my sister Michelle telling me about the time her head was in the toilet with morning sickness.  Her daughter placed a wet washcloth on her neck, while her son asked her repeatedly if he could play Nintendo.

I had a similar experience this summer when I sliced my finger on a garden slate. Just as I felt myself beginning to pass out (a first for me), I yelled to my boys to get me a homeopathic for trauma upon which my teenager spilled the bottle on the floor.

Instead of just giving me one, he repeatedly asked what he should do with the ones on the floor.  With an ashen face and the room spinning, I tried to give him a look that said, “Is that relevant right now?” but he just kept on asking.

What is it about the male psyche that can make them oblivious to what is going on inside another?  Probably the same thing that makes my husband look at me suggestively when I have barely eaten in three days.

This is the same guy who encouraged me to “send the baby to the Nursery” after our home birth was transferred to the hospital.

“We need our sleep, that’s what it’s there for…” the traitor said before dozing off, leaving me holding our newborn after 8 hours of labor and a c-section to boot.

To be fair, my husband takes good care of me, bringing me tea and apple sauce and crackers.  Hopefully his tenderness will rub off  on my boys by the time they’ve become husbands and fathers themselves.

(How about you?  Do your sons or daughters take good care of you?)