Back to Basics: Part 2

My last Back to Basics post was completed in my usual manner: hurried, and on the tail end of a two-day migraine that was still causing some nausea--surrounded by the noise of my offspring. At the time I published it a little voice nagged that the post felt disjointed, not quite pulled together, but I had already spent a considerable amount of time trying to patch it up and just felt like pulling the flusher at that point. I've since gone back and edited the post to satisfy that little nagging voice.

The post was, no surprise, something I started writing two years ago, and have added to on and off ever since. To say it was all over the place is an understatement, but it does illustrate the fact that simplifying my life is far from a new ideal. In The Great Purge: Part I I described my desire but struggle to minimize our things. The Great (Furniture) Purge: Part II was about finally letting go of large unfinished projects and space gluttons. The (Not So) Great (Book) Purge: Part III illustrates my ongoing struggle to get rid of books, which is currently what I'm dealing with. The Great (Mostly Clothing) Purge: Part IV details the most overwhelming area of clutter for us... clothes. While I've shed copious amounts of tears over the baby clothes (specifically a stained box of burp rags that all four boys used), it's not particularly hard for me to part with most clothes. There are just so many of them. (I've also found in the past a minimalist wardrobe for boys does not work very well. The rate at which they grow out of and wear out clothes is mind blowing.)

This got me wondering, how many people from the past struggled with an excess of things? How many felt slaves to their possessions? I've certainly come across stories of the old time eccentrics and hoarders, but it definitely does not seem to be the norm for back then.

It's apparent that people are busier than ever these days. Just trying to schedule a day to get together with friends takes chess-like strategy and actual effort on both sides to make it work. With all the modern-day conveniences that we have, it should be easier keeping up, right? In theory we should have loads of free time. After all, we no longer have to scrub clothes over a washboard in a tub, or even run them through a wringer after washing, thanks to speedy spin cycles. Dryers have eliminated the need to spend time hanging clothes, and waiting hours for them to dry. We don't even have to leave the house to run a mile. Dishwashers have reduced post-meal clean up to some rinsing and wiping down (if you own one, that is!) Room-sized rugs no longer need to be hung over a railing to have the dust beaten out of them; vacuums can get the job done in minutes. There's a market full of creams, supplements, and machines that "do most of the work" for our bodies. Despite these aids, we seem to have a decreasing amount of time, and an increasing amount of health issues and disorders. What is going on?!

All these ponderings and ramblings have led me to the conclusion that we need to make changes to the very core of our lifestyles to simplify and find peace and happiness in our lives. This should be easy when viewed in light of what's coming in eternity, what really matters.

The theory I'm working off of, is that taking inspiration from our grandmothers' and grandfathers' ways of life will shed light on how to get back to the bare necessities if we find ourselves always falling behind, always stressed, always struggling to keep up. I'm still trying to find the balance of a simple life, and probably always will be, but it has gotten so much better lately.

For illustration sake, let me take you back in time to a much simpler way of life.

My personality naturally clings to traditions and classics, a lover of history, which is why I have to take care not to let my mind run away with the romance of an idealistic yet unrealistic lifestyle. There were obviously so many hardships that people endured because of the simpler times they lived in that most of us would not trade anything for. My goal is (simply) to simplify every aspect of my life. Even though swearing off the dryer in exchange for hanging all our laundry (which I really enjoy doing!), or dragging an old wood stove in here to cook sounds pretty stinking exciting to me...these are definitely not realistic. The new "in" word is minimalist, but whatever you choose to call it, there really is something to it.

Our grandparents worked hard. They taught their children to work hard and to be frugal. You cannot beat the satisfaction that comes from being productive, from the fruits of labor and being self-sufficient. It's freeing. There's also no need for a treadmill and the time to use it if you're on your feet most the day. Besides that, there is no way around it: working close to the earth makes you feel closer to God; a little cog in the wheel of creation. This is the main reason why I enjoy keeping a garden.

During the second World War people were encouraged to grow gardens in their backyards to help relieve the burden of wartime rationing. They were called Victory Gardens, and they made people feel part of the war effort. The thing is, they actually made a positive difference. Take a drive around suburbia now and you'll find very few edible gardens.

The older generations were mostly self-sufficient. Not only in growing, making, and preserving their own food, but they also built their own houses, barns, and furniture. They often sewed their own clothes and blankets, and did their own home maintenance. The time this took also meant that they made do with less. Paying others to do these things for them was almost unheard of in rural areas.

The skills needed to do these things were learned by passing the knowledge down from generation to generation. You didn't learn about animal husbandry or how to build steps that successfully reach from one floor to the next in a classroom, (paid for in all likelihood by borrowed money) but from Pa, and because he needed help with it. I would rather my sons knew how to plant a garden, or the basics of carpentry, than how to punch/kick/fireball in the latest video game. So many modern parents have adopted the mindset that children can't do much for themselves and need their hand held most their childhood. Give them the reigns to try, and I guarantee they will find for themselves how not to do things. Better yet, by getting hands-on experience, they will be less likely to forget how to do things. Staying busy with chores also helps eliminate a whole lot of trouble kids get themselves in because of boredom. Most kids, that is...there are exceptions to this, even in our family.

The older generations used things until they were literally unusable, instead of replacing things with the newest model--just because it was what the neighbors had. And often when something had worn out it's original purpose, it was reused in another capacity. As a child, many of the quilts I wrapped myself in were previously Grandma's polyester pants and Grandpa's Sunday shirts that had worn a little too thin. I remember sitting with Grandma and watching her knobby, work-worn hands point out this or that patch, and listening intently to what occasion she had worn it for. Each quilt was a collection of stories if only you cared to listen.

We call a lot of these ultra-frugal habits Depression-Era throwbacks or wartime habits, mannerisms learned during a time of great want. But is it that much different than simply living resourcefully with little waste? Nearly half of American homes put no money away in savings. How much poverty could we eliminate if we changed some of our living habits? How quick we often are to throw something out and buy new when all it needs is a little repair! Or worse--simply because we're tired of it! Our landfills are a monument to this waste.

Everything was simpler back then, from clothing to food. Meals were generally simple, nutritious, and enjoyed together as a family. Classics never go out of style, and neither do the basics.

Rather than making our lives easier, perhaps most of these gadgets we're filling our homes with are complicating life and stressing us out. Turning to a screen has become second nature for most of us. Isn't it a little disturbing that many children fail to know how to behave once they're disconnected from a screen? Being constantly entertained is creating a generation who will not be able to think for themselves, and a feeling of loss when they're deprived of it. It's no wonder so many of our children lack impulse control: they've been fed a steady diet of instant gratification.

People used to tell stories and play music around a fire. It was part of life, not just an occurrence during the annual family camping trip. Can you imagine the pioneers' reactions to how we "camp" now, and that we do it for recreation?! What in the world?!

They said daily prayers and read books as a family. They used their minds and imaginations instead of zoning out in front of a television, letting it direct their mind. Attention spans were longer; they had to be because critical thinking skills were essential for life. "Extracurricular" activities did not include shuttling children around for hours to practices or games, or staying on top of complicated schedules. And I say this as a mother with boys in little league. I hesitate to sign them up for anything else because of the chaos it would cause our summer.

People used to hand-write letters or physically called on friends and family. Recipes were written out and hand-delivered or mailed. Showing people you cared was true charity; visiting someone in person takes much more effort than shooting them a text. Is it really that much more work to show someone you care?

How do we glean usable habits from what we know of the past? I've been jotting down a few things that have helped us simplify our life:

• First of all, minimizing happens in layers. We can't expect to raze our lives and homes and boom: stress free life. 
• Remember that these are just things. We don't want relationships with things, but people.
• Start with the obvious junk, the stuff that is really useless or trash. 
• Then ask, if it broke would it be a serious inconvenience? Would I really miss it? If not, try letting it go and never replacing it. 
• Next eliminate multiples of things or many similar items. Try keeping just one, or just one per person.
• Are there things that have been stored for over a year without use? If so, you can probably live without it for much longer. Like forever.
• Does it have a home? If an item does not have a proper place to be (and I do not mean a storage tote or tucked in a corner): it's gone.
• Declutter in zones. Splitting our homes into trouble areas helps prioritize the spaces that need the most help, and keeps us from becoming overwhelmed with too much at once. 
• STOP SHOPPING. Well, yeah, right? But I don't think we realize how many things we actually buy. It doesn't help us get ahead of the excess if we just keep adding to it. This is especially hard in this age of Amazon "Buy With One Click" buttons and impulse buys at the corner of every check out lane. When we try, we really can live without most things. I've found the best success in deleting shopping apps from my phone and just staying out of stores. And when you need something only pick up that thing instead of browsing around the store. I'm working on this one, so if you see me in the store and I don't see you it's because I have my eye on the prize and am making a bee-line to the toilet paper aisle.
• Once you've decided to part with something, get it out of your house. I can't count the hours of extra work I've spent re-removing things that found their way back into our lives because a box was left just sitting around. Or the things I fell back in love with just because I looked at it one too many times! For the things I'm selling, I move them out to the garage for two weeks. If it hasn't sold in two weeks, it's donated. And since I don't have the time or energy for a garage sale, anything worth less than $5 is just donated.
• Watch others declutter. Knowing we're not alone in this ongoing endeavor is comforting, and helps give us ideas of what to tackle and how to do it. (Or how not to do it.) There are helpful videos on YouTube. Here are a couple of my favorite:

The Messy Minimalist (Rachel has an endearing personality and I find I have quite a bit in common with her house keeping skills):

And the more extreme minimalist, Darci Isabella, though a Catholic homeschooling mother of ten (she keeps just one cup/bowl/plate for each of her children!):

Minimalism looks different for every one, and once you begin you'll discover what it looks like for you. Even among my boys the differences are very obvious. One is completely content with a toy sword and his bike to play with, and wears the same two T-shirts and two pairs of shorts over and over. Another I can't even ask to throw anything away for me because I'll find it stashed in his closet, and if something breaks you would think he was physically wounded.

Each "layer" you succeed in simplifying gives you a boost to tackle the next. The reward: liberation from things and a more peaceful life!

Back to Basics: Part 1

There is a seemingly never-ending battle I've been waging since the moment I moved out on my own and into my first apartment. I'm sure most of you have struggled in some capacity with the same. And it needs to end.

The battle is twofold: it is with possessions, and also others' opinions of the lifestyles we build with those possessions. Things which were meant as a means to make a reasonably comfortable life and home have a way of accumulating, forming a sort of entity that suffocates and overwhelms. And unnecessary concern over what others think of the life I have built has dictated my actions for far too long. This presents itself in many different ways, but mostly as stress: stress about the maintenance of things, the kinds of things we have, and on and on.

I'm done apologizing for my home. I've often felt panic at unannounced visitors because they might see something I haven't done around the house, or see me with unruly hair or paint speckled clothes. Oh the horror of someone finding out I'm human! If something bothers me enough I need to work harder to change it, or adjust my standards so that I'm okay with it. The end goal here is a peaceful home and attitude, even if the house isn't always immaculate, isn't always fixed. We have to live within these walls, and making sure nothing ever gets fingerprinted or smudged or cluttered with projects is no way to live. This is why I'm trying so hard not to inflict ridiculous standards on my children. I'm done explaining to others why the dishes didn't get done, why there's clutter everywhere, why we still have the same old ugly floors in the house, why that boy still has peanut butter all over his face...or why I've gained 25 (or 50) lbs., for that matter. We all know why, deep down. (Besides the fact that five kids can trash a clean and tidy home in about 5.3 seconds.) Nothing here is perfect, it turns out. We're all human! We all struggle to keep on keeping on at times. For some it's harder than others: most days I feel like I'm really terrible at life in general. Yet I often have people ask me how I get so much done. My husband knows the truth of it: I start somewhere in the neighborhood of 20 projects a day, work at a manic speed soaked in anxiety, break five things in the process (including myself), freak out that I can't get everything done, and end the day exhausted, irritated that only a couple projects were completed, and drive myself and everyone in this house crazy. Stressful.

When we bought this house I thought it was huge. Coming from a house just half it's size, it was. But as we started moving things in, and boxes piled up, and rooms no longer echoed with space, I started feeling a tightness in my chest. A sort of panic gripped me that we had made a mistake! We had bought a house that was, in fact too small! How was all this going to fit? A few months later I discovered a thread of conversation online (the bane of housewives, I'm here to tell you) between women who were in a similar state of life: stay at home homeschooling mothers with many children. They were discussing the square footage of their homes, and it turns out I was right! Our home was too small! All these ladies were living in 2500-3500 square feet homes. At almost 1900 square feet, no wonder we were cramped, right? And the extraordinary situation of having only one bathroom? We may as well be living in a cabin in the woods!

The average size of the American home has nearly tripled over the last 50 years...to hold all our possessions. There are 300,000 items in the average American home. 25% of people with two-car garages don't have room to park cars inside them. 32% only have room for one vehicle. And still, one out of ten Americans rent offsite storage. The $8 billion home organization industry has more than doubled in size since the early 2000's, and it's growing at a rate of 10% a year.

It took my slow self some serious self-talks to realize the ridiculousness of my reasoning. I thought about my grandparents raising 11 children in what was then barely a three bedroom house, and probably not much more than 1200 square feet. I thought about the stories Mom told about sharing a double bed with two other sisters. I thought about the Soubirous family who lived and slept in one small room together. Often very great things come from so much less. It was not our home that was causing trouble, causing us so much stress. It was our possessions. Our home is the perfect size for our family. Our possessions have taken over. Our homes are not storage units. We waste an incredible amount of time cleaning and organizing things that we neither like, nor are they useful.

3.1% of the world's children live in America, but they own 40% of the toys consumed globally. GLOBALLY. The average 10 year old owns 238 toys--and plays with just 12 daily.

It sounds ridiculous when written down, but it is a genuine struggle to have the life everyone else thinks you should have--or what you think they expect of you. Even when you know it's none of their business, that others' opinions have nothing to do with your happiness, it is hard. Struggling with contentment is an issue for most people. How many of us secretly long to be the "perfect size", to have the trendiest clothes, to be completely pulled together at all times? I can't be, and I've tried. And it's unfair to expect anyone else to be.

Judging someone based on appearance or status (or possessions!) is a conditioned way of thinking that's very hard to break. For sure it's part of our fallen human nature; it's also partly why first impressions give me severe anxiety; my deeply seeded desire for perfection in all things is difficult to stifle. You walk into someone's house or you meet someone new and you have an instant opinion of the kind of person they are, whether it's a fair assessment or not. It takes time to train your mind to look at all things through the lens of charity (true love of our neighbor), and detachment from things that really don't matter.

It's not realistic to expect perfectly staged houses, perfectly toned muscles, sleek hair and blemish-free skin. It's awfully hard to live life when you're constantly putting things back in their places and making things perfect. Something's going to give. The more things that require maintenance in our lives, the more stress there will be, regardless of how laid back we try to be about it. Doesn't charity trump all? Shouldn't we spend more time on the relationships in our lives than on the work our possessions create for us? In the end, what I think of someone always boils down to how they treat me: not their size, or their looks, or what kind of house they live in or car they drive. Be happy that someone cared enough to stop by to visit, and stop stressing about the piles of laundry on the table and the jam on the backs of the chairs!

On average an American family spends $1700 on clothing in one year. The average American throws away 65 pounds of clothing per year. The average American woman owns 30 outfits: one for every day of the month. In 1930, that figure was nine. Americans spend more on shoes, jewelry, and watches annually ($100 billion) than on higher education.

While we can't control what people think of us, and it really shouldn't concern us, most people will take you at exactly the same value as you put on yourself. I've been reminded a lot lately to love myself through the journey. It's something I need reminded of often! We can be so very hard on ourselves at times, even for things we can't control. I've resolved this year to make changes to those things that I can change, to the things that really matter. Not for the world and its opinions, but for the health and happiness of my family and myself. This campaign to get back to basics will focus on the things we have that contribute to the kind of lifestyle we live.

I finished out last year in a state of frustration, and knew I had to do something differently in my life. It seemed that I had fallen off track in just about everything that meant anything to me. I was limping along but not excelling at anything, allowing myself to be spread too thin. At the beginning of this year I sat down with an empty notebook and began making lists, scribbling out notes as inspiration struck. It became my goal book for the changes my life needed.

It's amazing how writing things out for me can shed so much light on what I need to do. A few minutes jotting things down in a notebook highlighted what makes me happiest, what holds the most joy for me: simply God and my family, and anything that adds beauty to life and improves my relationship with both. An honest look at why I lost sight of that illustrated all the trivial gunk that I have allowed to creep in and usurp that joy.

What is my goal for our home?
Peace
Simplicity
Happiness

From unnecessary concern over opinions to unhealthy relationships, from my clothing to my food: this year for me will be an attempt to simplify, to minimize things, and minimize time taken away from what's truly important, from what fulfills me. I invite you to join me in getting back to the basics!

Read the next part of this series here: Back to Basic: Part 2

You may also enjoy:
The Great Purge: Part 1
The Great (Furniture) Purge: Part II
The (Not So) Great (Book) Purge: Part III
The Great (Mostly Clothing) Purge: Part IV
The Great Purge (Ready, Set...): Part V

The Great Purge (Finale & Stories): Part VI

It is finished. The garage door was rolled down Saturday a little after noon and leftovers from the sale will be hauled off for donation later this week. Every single thing, other than clothes, that is. We have a large amount of boy clothes left, which have been separated by size for a couple friends to look through, and the rest will be donated to a family who is in need. After this weekend I have absolutely no desire to step foot in a garage sale, thrift, or junk shop for a long long time. It's just too much.

Thursday and Friday my dear Mom came to help with the boys while I was in and out for the sale. Friday afternoon Eli woke up early enough to watch the garage for an hour so I could run out to look for big boy pants. At one sale I found what I needed: four pairs of jeans in husky sizes (one pair still had tags on them!), three pairs of shorts, a pair of sweat pants, a pair of black dress pants, and snow pants which Gavin will need next winter, all for $16. For that price brand new I may have been able to get one pair of jeans and maybe a pair of the active-wear shorts.

Saturday dawned gloomy, and soon was raining true to the forecast. I had dim prospects for last-day sales, but during the last hour there was a flurry of rain-braving souls. We sold a lot of stuff I feared wasn't going to move. The "recipe-dex" went home with a lady who was super-excited about filling it with recipes, a couple came in and bought coats just because they were cold, and a guy fell in love with our Harley-Davidson clock hanging on the wall that wasn't even for sale. It sold for $5. The last things to go were the vintage brown-drip "bean pot" style soup bowls "because it's French onion soup weather".

This is what we were left with after the garage sale. Yes, it's a lot. If you need something for a boy, let me know.

My first garage sale ever, while we only had two boys, brought in $66. Our sale last fall during the motorcycle rally made $365. This year, despite the cold, the mist, and the rain, we made $268. This is especially surprising considering most of the boy clothes were priced at 25-50 cents a piece. While part of the proceeds will go toward camp for the boys next summer, we found out a wheel bearing needed to be replaced in the Suburban earlier in the week. That bill effectively absorbed the money we were going to put into the new house fund. Sometimes it feels like one step forward and two steps back around here.

As usual, there was a cast of characters that graced our sale. Some I remembered from last year, like the lady who could own no dolls as a child. I still didn't ask her why...it just never seemed appropriate. The mystery still haunts me.

Then there was the lady who argued with me on every price last fall, who was super cheerful this time and kept up a constant monologue about how various things could be repurposed. Perhaps it was because of the fuzzy pink camouflage hat with ear flaps she was wearing? It looked impossible to be in a bad mood with that on.

An ex-boyfriend's parents stopped by during the hour I was off hunting for jeans; they don't know I live here, so I can only attribute the peculiar timing to my guardian angel's whispers for me to leave.

An older lady raided the old sheets and pillow cases from the "Free" box for a church's quilting circle, and seemed surprised I would get rid of such treasures. When I told her I already had a whole tote of sheets and clothes to repurpose for quilting and rugs her face lit up, and she excitedly suggested dropping it off at the church if I changed my mind about keeping it. I had to laugh.

Another sweet lady picked out three well-worn cookbooks from the "Free" box for her granddaughters, and insisted on paying for them anyway. What's right with the world right there, folks.

One man stopped in and bought a movie, and then returned ten minutes later because he couldn't remember being here before.

There were a lot of Mennonite ladies who also had bunches of boys. They are ruthless on a pile of jeans!

Some old men have the best senses of humor. One in particular commented drolly, "I don't think you have anything in my size!" and chuckled, peering over all the boy clothes.

To the man who came for a leather coat, him-hawed about my old leather coat, and then returned the next day to show me the leather coat he bought for half the price: good for you, but not cool.

And about all the boy clothes: they inspired a lot of questions about our children. "No, they're not in school, they're in the house with Grandma and we homeschool." It's amazing all the fellow homeschoolers who were out, and the people who had family or friends who homeschooled. It really is growing. When I was being homeschooled a lot of people would ask, "What is that?" You never hear that comment anymore.

There were a lot of little girls (and moms of little girls) who excitedly traipsed in looking for girl treasures, only to shuffle out empty-handed.

One man (who I guess was in his 40's) said, "I salute you for having more than the standard number of children." He said it was a shame the large old families are disappearing, as they are such a blessing. He said, "It's too hard for people to take care of more than two kids anymore." You don't hear that very often; most often I get people's condolences as if our boys were "accidents". Thank you, sir.

There was a very frazzled mother accompanied by a young son, full of sighs and eye-rolls, who let that little guy walk all over her. Despite her begging and whining at him, little man insisted on sneaking into the back of our garage and stealing one of our boys' Tonka trucks. Instead of making him put it back, she commented, "And to think I'm pregnant with another one!" I could only imagine how afraid she was of a melt-down, but that horrible comment stung. I got up, knelt down by the boy, and put my hand on the truck. "I know you like this truck a lot, but so does my little boy. It's his, so I cannot sell it. Your Mom would like to keep walking with you to other sales, and you may find other cool toys there that you can have. I'm going to put this truck away now so you can listen to your Mom." The boy nodded and climbed back into the stroller. The mom whispered "thank you", to my relief. I hoped I hadn't crossed a line. Mamas: motherhood is hard. It's the hardest thing you'll do in this life. But when you rescind your authoritative role as parent, you are making it a 1000 times harder on yourself, and set your child(ren) up for heaps of trouble later on. And complaining about a pregnancy? Just don't. Your young son is hearing every sneer, every sigh, every humph. It's a horrible legacy to leave him, a horrible attitude to foster. Having lost three precious babies, and knowing the heartache people experience not being able to have children at all, I will never, ever complain again about the discomfort pregnancy has caused, or the children I was blessed with.

Then there was the lady who went into great detail about the surgery she was going to have that required five surgeons, because of specific and various parts of her needed work...while there were several other people browsing my sale. The garage cleared out fairly quickly.

I felt so bad when a (very tall) older gentleman hit his head on the garage door. Not ten minutes later another gentleman with a cane sauntered in, explaining how he was wearing a hat because he had cracked his head on a garage door only the day before. He had time to kill because he had just taken his 16 year old son to the emergency room with a broken finger from playing ball. He knew it was broken because he had been a boxer, and had broken all his knuckles before. He finally explained the cane: he was in the beginning stages of Parkinson's disease.

Then there was the man who couldn't stand to be at home alone because he had just lost his wife three weeks ago. I wish I knew just the right things to say to everyone. People need so many prayers.

I took a long nap this afternoon. The past two weeks have successfully drained me. Here's to no garage sale next year!

For other posts in this series, see:

The Great Purge: Part I

The Great (Furniture) Purge: Part II

The (Not So) Great (Book) Purge: Part III

The Great (Mostly Clothing) Purge: Part IV