It really is All Too Much

Thanks to Molly Ellen for the book suggestion It's All Too Much as a helpful guide to paring down one's belongings. It's written by the Peter Walsh, the Clean Sweep guy from whatever cool cable channel - I must admit I've never seen the show, and anytime I'm around cable TV I'm outvoted when I want to bounce between HGTV and Discovery.

It's inspiring, in that it makes me want to write a book, because it apparently doesn't take much talent and writing well is merely an added bonus not an essential feature... Actually, I liked how the arguments pro/con stuff got me thinking.

The essential point is this: do not have anything in your living space unless it is beautiful or useful. Eventually, possessions own you. Organization is nice, but really - there's only so much space and it doesn't matter if it's in color-coded Tupperware. By carefully culling down your possessions, you can fit your stuff to your space available, rather than trying to cram more in. He harshes on self-storage as a huge waste of money and a symptom of an underlying pathology. "Collectors" are villified. Those ever-encroaching piles of paper on every available flat surface are strongly cautioned against. The hopeful half of the closet - items awaiting your eventual sewing attention or massive weight loss - is banished.

Full disclosure: for years when asked what I wanted for Christmas, etc. my reply is always "Nothing I have to dust." I wish my house reflected that, but I have accumulated many curios/tchotchkes/souvenirs and whatnot. Most of it was given as gifts, and I always feel badly about not having whatever on display when whomever comes to visit whenever. I outwardly proclaim the "once it's yours it's your decision" but balk when it comes time to actually let it go. Admiting it is the first step, right? Back to the book...

The take-home message encourages an honest appraisal of what you keep, and why. If an item has sentimental value, is it displayed and honored - or stuffed into a dusty box in the recesses of the basement? If it matters to you, find a way to display it. If it doesn't have sentimental value and isn't useful - or hastn't been useful for quite some time - out it goes. Let the culling begin...

The rule about clothes is that if you don't love it, wear it and look great in it - out it goes. Half of my closet is now gone. I can't say that I love all that remains, and I probably should do another round.

I went through all the kids' clothes - brutal! My daughter had 34 pairs of underwear, in 3 different sizes... And some socks from toddler days! I actually went through the bag of Hosiery without Partners, paired up what I could, and put the rest in for ragstock at Goodwill. And the pile of sewing projects is down by half - some I fixed, some I pitched.

Ah, the bookshelf; the display for all my intellectual pretensions... If I haven't read it yet, I probably won't. If it was so good I need to read it again, I have 6 months. If I really need a certain book eventually, I can always get it from the library. And at some point I must admit I will never 'get' Neruda or Borges, and that's okay... Bob's band was over, and I foisted off many books on them. The rest will be going to our local coffeeshop which is a drop-off for a lending library. Unless, of course, I get impatient with tripping over the multiple boxes and just take them to Goodwill too. Even after all that, we still have a pretty full bookshelf.

This is intended to be an ongoing project, continually going through closets and drawers and cupboards (oh my! ) and some days I am in the mood to be merciless and other days I'm too darned sentimental to give up anything. Two major problem areas remain: kids artwork, and my zillion craft supplies. That's going to hurt.

What has been most disturbing about this whole process is you feel so darned accomplished, trunkloads to Goodwill, etc. - but it's almost impossible to discern what's gone. My house is still over-stuffed. But at least it's a work in progress.

Big kids and little stuff

We live vicariously through our children, wanting to give them opportunities we weren't able to have. We try to direct them to things that interest us, in the hopes of having a shared hobby we can indulge in, together. Or, less flattering but more accurate, I just really like toys and am glad the kids are an excuse to have them around. Kind of like seeing a Disney movie in the theatre; you feel a tad creepy unless you are accessorized by pint-sized persons.

My downfall: miniatures.

I remember getting a zillion catalogs when I was little, and some of them were entirely dedicated to dollhouses and furniture. I remember turning the pages and looking at the pictures for hours, home decorating for tiny, nonexistant people. I didn't have a "real" doll house, other than a Weebles Tree Home I got long after it was developmentally appropriate, and some townhouse for Barbies that never amounted to more than a storage case with aspirations. So when my daughter was able to score a dollhouse made by my friend Sheila's dad, it was pretty gratifying. I even built another dollhouse from a kit, although it still needs trim and paint. But they are all mere vessels to holding all sorts of clever, tiny furniture and accessories.

What is it about things in the miniature scale? They are known to bring about shrieks and exclamations and words I rarely say, like "Darling!" I'm pretty opposed to crappy plastic toys as a rule, but if it's a teeny-tiny crappy plastic toy, it gets a pass... Storage issues are usually not a problem, and they have an added bonus of being small enough to get easily lost.

At the Salvation Army I picked up a Barbie dress set and the coolest popcorn set, complete with bowl, popper (with crank to produce lifelike popping noise and motion), and a 6 pack of diet soda. I couldn't NOT buy it; it didn't even occur to me. It was a buck. My daughter loves it; I came home last night to find a teeny little 6-pack ring carelessly discarded, capable of strangling miniature seabirds, and the dollhouse scattered with empties. Like Barbie on a bender. It was awesome.

Last fall I had purchased four super cool rooms of doll furniture and the Loving Family dolls they had at SA, and wrapped it all up for Christmas. Both kids play with it, for hours. It's much better now that I moved it up into their room (from our icky basement) and set it up in the sunniest window. Imagine, quiet play. It's a beautiful thing.

I guess I'm fairly unrepentant about shopping yesterday, partly because of the cool stuff. I must admit this year would be a lot harder if I didn't have the option of shopping at the Salvation Army basement of Cool and Random Bargains. Although, most thrift stores do have new items and closeouts from major retailers. If I was hard core, I'd have to say I could only buy reused items from thrift stores. I'm not capable; I don't have that kind of restraint. Especially if the stuff is little, and cheap, not to mention darling! Lest you think this is purely a girly thing, I must admit hours spent on Ebay finding an awful lot of vintage MicroMachine playsets and cars for my son. Even the cool firetruck that opens up into a city with parking ramp, collapsing bridge, and factory on fire still elicits an "Awww!" from me. By definition, though, I don't consider this a BIG problem. Nope.

In the interest of full disclosure, I spent $36.61 total yesterday at the Salvation Army. A pair of gloves for me, a pair of pj's for X, and a bunch of school supplies - hoping I can minimize the buying binge come Sept. I also scored three Klutz Press books/kits for $4 each, two for a niece that I spaced on her birthday, and one to put aside for to Christmas. And a Hotwheels scooter for X. This is borderline child abuse, as the scooter is really cool, but there is still snow on the sidewalks...

I did have a lot more in my cart at one point, and had seriously considered buying the 1/2 size air hockey table ($65!!!) but calmer minds did prevail, and I put back several toy vehicles, pillows, placemats and shirts. I know I sound like I'm rationalizing my behavior, which I am, so... there! It's what happens when my inner child takes my actual child shopping.

Putting the FUN in fundraising

I have two fundraisers today, one for each kid's school. Both offer an opportunity to dress up. At the kids' disco, yours truly gets to don the awesome Hello Kitty suit, complete with oversized head, girly-girl shoes. Tonight the St. Mark's gala has a pirate theme, so I'd been on a mission to accessorize accordingly.

It's taken several visits to thrift stores but yesterday I was able to score skeleton earrings, a piece of fabric for a sash, and the all-important parrot. I was able to stitch together some cool fabric for a headscarf, borrow a cutlass, and make some hoop earrings and a necklace of gaudy beads. Because we know that pirates are all about the bling... I felt pretty good about my outfit. I had given it some thought, managed to procur it only by borrowing and thrifting, and it was on the fine line between semi-slutty and fun. Until I tried it on.

Ah, well. I have a lovely, reversible bustier from my days of Renaissance Fest and Morris Men. It was to complete the look. Apparently I've been in denial about a.) how long ago were those erstwhile days and b.) how much poundage I'd acquired since then. Nothing like a body-image bitch slap to bring you to reality. Perhaps if I had much longer laces and a maidservant to wrestle me in - and didn't have that pesky need to breathe - I could have pulled it off. So I've had to develop plan B (more like DDD) and it's ...okay. Provided the lighting is dim, I remain standing at all times, and much wine is involved, I'll probably look pretty good.

Back to the main point of today: fundraising. That's a touchy subject in the world of voluntary simplicity. If we're cutting back and have more money, we should be able to honor or exceed our usual charitable giving. But we're in a cash crunch right now. We're still reeling a bit from our Florida trip, and have had a bunch of expenses come due simultaneously - seminars, registration for school, car insurance, credit cards. And the visit to the tax man wasn't exactly reassuring.

The kids disco isn't too much of a challenge - I bought a bunch of tickets to give away, but everyone seems to be busy! And we can spend some reasonable amount on snacks, face painting, and the all-important photo op with - ahem! - Hello Kitty. These are all experiences vs. stuff, and basically affordable. Bob is providing the sound system and music, and the kids are really looking forward to dancing and seeing their friends.

The tough part will come with the Gala tonite, and the silent auction. The catalog is filled with many tempting items that probably won't be cheap. There are a few experiences (gift certificates, tickets, etc.) and we'll try to focus on those. I have the impression that we're not the only ones cutting back this year, and I worry about how well the fundraiser will turn out. I'll sit down with Bob today and come up with a budget and some parameters. Of course the last time I tried that, I had a few too many martinis and didn't realize how many things I was bidding on and didn't I just "win" them all ! The gift certificates are still here, but now they've expired.

Aaaarrrrgh. Them's the breaks, matey!

Excuses, excuses...

It's the week that ate my brain.

The kids have taken turns being ill enough to skip school, and I've been homebound with the Walking Whiney. Let me make a public apology to all of those parents out there that I haven't been nearly sympathetic enough as you recounted the rounds of cold/flu/consumption/etc. I hadn't realized how beneficial having one or the other or all of us occupied with activities/outings at least part of the week. We're all getting on each other's nerves, from too much togetherness. It has been really challenging not relying on the electronic babysitter. That, and I've had to fight the urge to smear lamb's blood on the doorway and run screaming down the street.

Also during this week: Bob has had multiple projects requiring the laptop during the day at work, as well as projects in the evening. There is something ironic about my desire to blog about non-consumption resulting in my craving my own computer.

The other missing piece: cyber-shopping. Nothing spells mid-winter pick me up like wandering the virtual aisles on-line, filling a shopping cart, and wandering away, never to actually complete the transaction. If I did this at retail stores, they'd up and take my Macy's card! And, interestingly enough, my first job (other than babysitting) was at a small grocery store in Tonawanda NY. When checkout lines were down, it was my job to collect all the abandoned groceries and return them to their rightful places. Like the one time an evil, evil woman had a huge order but when she realized it wasn't freakin' triple coupon day, she whipped the sheaf of coupons out of my hands and just walked out, leaving me with the Mother of all Voids. (Which would be a great name for an alternative band. I'm just sayin'.) So hopefully in the virtual shopping world, my egregious behavior doesn't smite the electronic equivalent of minimum wage workers.

Off for a fun-filled evening of preparing our taxes. The hits, they keep on comin'.

Odds-n-Ends

Various things to mention here pop up in the course of a day. Sometimes they aren't enough in and of themselves to warrant a whole entry. There's a parallel to my ongoing battle with housekeeping.

Whenever I'm having people over for dinner, or trying to get all the assorted clutter picked up so my bimonthly cleaning lady can actually get at surfaces to clean, I always run out of time or energy. At some point, I admit defeat, and get a laundry basket to put the last few items in, and stick it out of sight in the basement. I usually get around to putting all that back within a couple days, but by then the same or greater amount becomes freed from the "everything in it's place" and the process starts all over. I shouldn't take this personally; it's probably an obscure branch of physics I didn't bother learning about. Entropy of clutter. It's a corollary of the missing sock and charging dust rhino sciences. Like free-range laundry which can never be simulateously and completely washed, dried, folded and put away. Damn that laundry fairy! Can't everything just get clean and stay that way long enough for me to feel smug and take a deep breath? It's still something I strive for, when I'm not tilting at windmills and such.

Although our kitchen is too small for a junk drawer, we have a couple of cabinets that serve the same purpose. Much like the linen closet, that jettisons travel-size toiletries everytime I open it. It's a daily battle that usually has me muttering unflattering things under my breath. My mom refers to this phenomenon as "Fibber McGee's closet" which has been explained to me as part of a radio serial. I don't know why I put up with it. At this point, I should throw out half the stuff just to save myself the aggravation. My bathroom cabinet was the worst offender, sending me into diving saves as the trajectories of various health and beauty products ominously headed towards the toilet or waste basket. I've been attempting to use up the multiples of personal care products - finally the lavander bath salts from 12 years ago! Avon crap. I can't even remember when/where I got half this stuff. I needed to be okay with throwing out unopened bottles of this or that based on age or indifference. I am a believer in toner, but not a regular user of it, etc. I'm sure switching between shampoos is a good idea, but in practice I can't have 6 bottles in circulation. It doesn't matter how much I paid for this or that ridiculous beauty product; it's probably well past it's shelf-life. So a week ago, I purged all sorts of crap and now each time I open my bathroom cabinet, I still cringe in anticipation of an avalanche, and then I see how everything is neat and organized and sparse, and I have the smallest flush of triumph along with a sigh of relief. One has to appreciate the victories, no matter how paltry.

Party Post-Mortem

We survived L's birthday party extravaganza without any major mishaps. There were a few tears from the b-day girl and her friends who had to leave early, but a fun time was had by all. Final count:17 for the party, 10 for the sleepover. So much for the theory that other parents would be hesitant to send their kids to an unfamiliar home for the first foray into the rite of passage inexplicably known as the "slumber" party. To which most thinking people would reply "Duh! Free babysitting for Valentine's weekend!"

After pizza, cake, and much shrieking, the girls got into the dress up clothes - which is a zillion scarves of all sort of colors and sizes. They got into our basket of assorted instruments, and I had Bob play some bouncy accordion tunes and next thing you know there are a bunch of girls singing and dancing and being crazy-joyful. I kicked myself for not having the video camera out, but I never do, so that regret can sit next to its' fellows in a long long line of self-recriminations. Ah, well.

I must admit while running around cleaning, making the cake, preparing games and activities I had a brief panic that it all wouldn't be enough, somehow. And I thought longingly of the pre-packaged, themed birthday party items that seem to be an instant party, just add plastic and Disney characters. I'm well aware that scratch baking isn't for everyone, and that most houses don't come equipped with a talented accordionist. It's just that now I have to be really strategic and resourceful, because easy answers come from Target, not the thrift store. Although the two bags of balloons I scored from Goodwill last month produced all sorts of entertainment: balloon animals, fun with static, using respiration for purposes other than shrieking at a pitch high enough to threaten the storm windows, and the like. But the essentials were simple: a house full of energetic kids, snacks, and opportunities to play. Cake was just a bonus.

In the hopes of slowing down the pace prior to bedtime, we did a movie and popcorn. The birthday girl chose "My Neighbor Totoro" which is a wonderfully drawn film filled with magical creatures from Japanese folklore. Only her best buddy had seen it, and it was amazing to watch the girls' reactions to something entirely new and different. They were still humming the theme song as they (reluctantly) left this morning. Pretty gratifying, all in all.

In case you were wondering, there were only two presents from guests. One was a handmade purse from a crafty gal and her grandmother, and the other was a great assortment of art supplies. Several parents pointedly mentioned the "no gifts" as a nice change of pace from the norm, and various other supportive comments. Which is reassuring, but let's face it: I've never been particularly skilled at appearing normal. I'm bucking the trend but just following a different one.

ReUsing cont.

Trying to get in a post before the midnight deadline, to make it appear timely. And I wonder if I can really get through a year living this and talking about this, much less writing about it. And the name is bugging me! Obviously was watching way too much School House Rock that day...

Yesterday I did a tour at the preschool which significantly cut into my 3 hours of freedom. As the day was already dismal, I decided to go wait at the Social Security Office - with the poor, huddled masses that were rather malodorous - to get my replacement card. Why, you ask? Well, I did a search on those unclaimed property websites and Lo AND behold - I have a whopping $266 from some bank account in New York I forgot to close before moving to MN. And these days, a couple hours of paperwork certainly rates $266. It'll be found money, in a way.

I studiously avoided going back to the Salvation Army, but still had some time to kill. The library doesn't open til noon. So I checked out the haven of all do-it-your-damn-selvers, The ReUse Center. It's a crazy salvage place for all things architectural. I spent an unseemly amount of time petting a particularly lovely mantel, that was scaled for a house roughly triple ours. I still wanted it, in its' hand-carved bas relief glory. A mere $800! I've always heard about the ReUse Center and have certainly benefitted from its' bounty - but had never actually been in there. 'Twas very cool. Highly recommended if you're hoping to do home renovation on the cheap and green side.


From there to Savers, a paltry two blocks away. I wandered, not quite lonely as a cloud. I was looking for puddle boots for X and a stuffed parrot to complete my slutty pirate ensemble for the upocoming gala at St. Marks. Struck out on both counts. I did find a nice aluminum bottle I didn't technically need for a mere 99c and a cute pair of pants for my daughter for $2.99. But what was priceless: the all-too-earnest clerk explaining to me that although it was, in fact, Tuesday, I would not be receiving the Senior Citizen Discount. Such a flatterer!

Meanwhile, back at the Barnesyard: turns out the whole birthday/pizza party/sleepover combo is a bit more popular than I'd planned on. So far, 12 for the party, and 9 "sleeping"over. I am screwed. The redeeming factor: I will forever be able to point at this ill-begotten social occasion as the party that effectively ended all parties. When the whining begins, I can just say "Remember that 7th birthday party fiasco????" and be given a pass on all future social obligations. I have to take my compensation when it occurs!

Great job purging! Now let's binge!

Friday I wandered the aisles of the Salvation Army Store downtown. An upside of the downturn: they've inherited decent store fixtures, so everything is fairly neat and orderly. Too many clothes to go through, which is fine. A bit of disincentive is a good thing. They had lots of games , toys, shoes, etc. which was impressive for a Friday. (They generally have the new stuff out on Mondays and Tuesdays (you didn't hear it from me.) I picked up a couple of pairs of kids mittens, but didn't find anything else that met the new standards of need vs. want. And I had little or no cash with me, and they have a minimum for credit card sales, so I left with nothing. Nada. It wasn't as elating as I'd thought; for some reason it made me a little depressed looking at all the stuff, the assorted detritus of imagined needs and insatiable wants. Apparently it was enough to make me wax poetic. Sorry 'bout that.

Much of my weekend was spent mercilessly culling possessions - and it felt good. I rearranged the kids' room. I got rid of over half of my clothes, 4 crates of books, and assorted junk. The kids clothing will go to a swap my church is having on March 1st. Some books were donated, others will enter the stream of borrow/lend at our local coffee shop. I keep hoping that with less stuff to keep organized, day to day life will be a little easier. It's rather gratifying.

Today X and I did a few errands, then went to a neighborhood playdate. For some reason he wasn't into it, and we didn't last long. We swung by the Social Security office but the line was too long. I just need a replacement card, not to wait for an hour with a squirmy preschooler in a crowded office. Since we were downtown anyways... And since L has a birthday this week... And X wanted to help pick out a birthday present...

Insert your favorite justification here:




So back to the Salvation Army, although were supposed to stay upstairs in the secondhand store part. (Downstairs has more samples and closeouts, so aren't exactly used, and it feels like a cop-out.) For $3, a nice dart board. A couple of movies, a buck each. For $2 a playground for Littlest Pet Shop creatures. And a frame for $2, so I can start displaying some of that amazing kid art, rather than letting it accumulate in piles that get unintentionally ruined/recycled. But I draw the line at used stuffed toys, and we were in search of puppies although we'd rather have a real one...

Two cuddly dogs, $2 each. Two mini car sets, $2 each. A fully poseable horseback riding doll for a friend's stable, $3. A magnetic toy set for the preschool, $5. You should sense a theme... Such a bargain! I like to buy for others. But mostly I just like to buy. Admitting it is half the battle; I guess the rest of it is simply blogworthy.

I'm waiting for the guilt to kick in.

Rightsizing my thinking...

Yesterday was all about cognitive restructuring, which sounds more labor-intensive that it is. And I am by no means a skilled craftsperson in this endeavor. Which is funny, since I help other people with theirs, for a living. (sort of... it's a small living at present.)

Recycling day usually meets with annoyance in our household. Everything has to be separated and bagged and out early. With the snow and cold - and our recent vacation - there was much muttering and cursing as I wrangled our larger-than-usual pile to the curb. Since I've started using my own fabric bags for shopping, we are now out of paper bags ( for recycling) and plastic bags (for wastebaskets). This is annoying - the job gets harder as I try to maximize the usefulness of the remaining bags. But - I need to look at this new challenge as evidence of the impact of downsizing; less buying and reusable bags has already impacted our household waste. Plus, it's just so gratifying to have a big pile of stuff leaving the house, hopefully to be recycled. I have to admit to some trust issues as to what they actually do with all that paper/plastic/glass/metal etc.

So I am leaving for preschool, backing out of the garage carefully to a.) not 'downsize' the mirrors and b.) avoid knocking over the admittedly precarious pile of recycling. I cranked the wheel at precisely the wrong moment - which landed my front end over the no-go zone of ice between the alley and our driveway. Much rocking, shifting, ice melter and shoveling got me exactly nowhere. Meanwhile, my 4 year old is offering me helpful hints like "You're going to have to get out and push. We're really stuck." I was taking this in stride, considering I usually have the frustration tolerance of a toddler on crack. Until - I looked up and saw the garbage truck coming down the alley that I was presently blocking. My mental process was as follows: "Just great! Here come's the ^%$#@! truck and I'm stuck and blocking them in." Then, in a rare but appreciated moment of ah-ha, "Great!!! Here's the truck, I'm stuck, and blocking THEM IN." After watching me struggle ineffectually for a couple more minutes, two burly gentleman get out, tell me how to point my tires, and push us out. I only got a minor lecture on my inferior snow-clearing practices that got me stuck and make their jobs tougher all winter long. I told them I'd pass their concerns on to my Supervisor of Maintenance (shout out to Bob!), thanked them profusely for their help, and with a cheery wave I'm off. Almost on time. Because I was still running late for school and my massage appointment. But I'm late for my MASSAGE appointment. It's all about the perspective.

Damned if I do / don't

This Sunday's NY Times Business Section had a brilliant assessment of the decline and fall of our economy and how our overspending habits are both the cause and the cure of our depression woes. Basically, the present economic meltdown (where it can't be blamed on Wall St. or mis-mortgaging) can be linked to our love affair with malls - and how 70% of our spending is on personal consumption. The article goes on to describe it as a toxic relationship, in which we need to quit our overspending to be more financially healthy as individuals but right now quitting overspending is making our economy generally ill. It's wonderfully written - you barely notice you're in the business section - and a very concise description of the consumer connundrum. Here's the inelegant but effectual Permalink:


http://www.nytimes.com/2009/02/01/business/01mall.html?partner=permalink&exprod=permalink

In case all the cathartic self-disclosure hasn't tipped you off yet, I'll admit I do have SOME guilt issues, especially as relating to all things monetary. As my husband reminded me this week, that famous FDR quote "The only thing we have to fear is fear itself." was addressing consumer jitters during the Depression Era. (Disclaimer: I haven't bothered to fact-check that, and Bob is a repository of all sorts of trivia. He also has a great ability to bullshit, just because he's smart and says thing in his authoritative way. ) So - voluntary simplicity may be helping my own family's bottom line but cutting back on spending is adding fuel to the fires of economic meltdown. It's all about confidence - and since there are no guarantees about jobs right now, spending less and saving more is the smart move, right? But less spending means the economy is stalled longer - demand is down, jobs are cut. It's a vicious cycle.

Originally when I started this year with the hopes that by limiting my buying to used things, I'd hoped to achieve a smaller footprint in terms of stuff: packaging and raw materials. And becoming more mindful of reasons for shopping and the urge to accumulate would be an added bonus. But with my raised consciousness I've also cut back on buying in general. I still spend money on experiences - entertainment, dining out, etc. but it seems I'm not spending quite as much. Case in point: I've only had $6 cash in my wallet for the last week and it was only today I spent $4 on coffee and a danish (plus tip). Of course there are the recurring charges for my life's necessities - mortgage, school fees, utilities, insurance - but those are fixed costs on automatic bill-pay so it seems less painful. It's my discretionary spending that is way down. I'm not sure that this translates into actually saving money, as grocery bills alone are noticeably higher each week. (case in point: Hershey's miniatures, 2 bags for $9. An advertised special? That's not even decent chocolate! It's what you grab when nothing else is available, and even if it's old enough to go all white and chalky it doesn't taste any worse.)

So I feel it's a good choice in the microcosm but bad timing in the macrocosm. And I know I'm not alone. Recession chic is actually prolonging the economic downturn. Even the uber wealthy are cutting back, and it's noticeable. But the average family can't - and shouldn't - fill the gap. The challenge is finding the balance. Isn't it always?

Birthday Quandry, continued

First off, can I say how aware I am that I don't have any real problems and am unbelievably blessed ? The fact that birthdays rate as a "quandry" probably means I'm in denial or completely out of proportion with my concerns. But that's a whole 'nother blog!

I spent most of yesterday hand-writing numerous invitations, decorating them, painting and cutting out hearts for valentines, etc. I was enjoying it because I like doing futzy stuff like that, and now I couldn't just up and buy invites so at least I felt noble. It became less enjoyable as the day went on. Three four year old boys for a playdate weren't exactly conducive to my creative process, but still I slogged on. I even tried to get them involved, but for some reason they found it more entertaining to glue numerous hearts and shapes together to make monsters. Sigh.

When my daughter came home from her violin lesson, she was excited about the invitations. She didn't feel like decorating them, however, and wanted to move on to other projects. This is the part where I forget that adult agendas really don't apply in kidland, and I turn a fun project into a Chore of Much Whining. We were nearly done when she starts identifying other girls she'd like to invite. There are two first grade classes at her school, and we had agreed on inviting all the girls in her class, plus one neighborhood friend. But there are a couple of girls in the other class that are in Girl Scouts with her, and she'd like to include them. Not wanting to offend or exclude anyone, more invitations are required. So this small pizza party with optional sleepover potentially has 18 guests, which is enough to make me have an outbreak of tics just contemplating it.

I'm betting on a couple of things in my favor of this birthday roulette: it's a 4 day weekend (President's Day) and maybe people will be out of town. And some kids aren't ready for sleepovers at this age. And I've turned self-delusion into a hobby.

Bob and I decided on the no gifts option, but differed on the approach. He suggested saying something like "No gifts and we'll return the favor by not giving out gift bags of crap. It's a win-win." Miss Manners was not amused, gentle reader. So I put in a line "In the spirit of voluntary simplicity, please no gifts." Then I started to think that was a tad sanctimonious... look at me! we're swell. see the blog!!! But I didn't know how else to frame "no gifts" and I physically couldn't write out another 18 invitations. (Handwriting is a lost art form. And, oh yeah, our printer is busted.)

Getting my daughter's buy-in (pun intended) was another story, and she reads now, so I couldn't sneak it in. In a 7 year old's view, there is no reasonable explanation as to why 18 birthday gifts is not an inherently good idea. She points out that she didn't take this pledge, and that it's not fair. Yeah, but.... yeah. And now she's counting the money in her piggybank, waiting to have enough to purchase - ugh - another freakin' Barbie. Insult, compounded with interest, upon injury. So the compromise was hatched - she can use her money to buy what she wants, within reason. She'll probably score another few dollars (main sources of income are from the tooth fairy and great-aunts) so then I will take her to the store of her choice to purchase whatever her little heart desires. Whilst my feminist heart breaks with concern for her unrealistic body image. Sigh.

Back home and broke

...but not really. I hadn't really imagined that "no new crap" would really impact our travels. A week in Florida, along with Bob's band, equipment, and one grandmother had a few unique challenges.

Packing is always an adventure onto itself - that fine line between covering all eventualities and dragging way too much is now painfully razor-sharp thanks to the new baggage charges imposed by the airlines. So I put everything I thought we'd need, took out a bunch of pieces which all happened to be mine, and then packed a duffle bag within the mondo suitcase in case we were over our weight limits. Now, finally, a use for theoretical math! If each bag is $15 for the first and $25 for the second, and the overweight charge is $50, how many bags of n size are needed for that train to go to Cleveland travelling 100 miles per hour??? Aaaargh. But when I wrestled that monster onto the scale and saw the gate agent's jaw drop - the readout was 50.0 - I felt vindicated for my obsessiveness. It's the little triumphs that keep me going, some days.

One of my mantras on high-pressure packing has been "hey - they have stores there!" I didn't really see the conflict there until I was without two essential items: a sun hat, and a bottle opener. Neither was a major hardship, and I'm almost done peeling... Of course walking past shops en route to the beach was a bit tough on the kids, and I'd like to say they stopped asking eventually, or perhaps I'm just less senstive to their angst. Bob and I did a walk-through of the original Ron Jon's Surf Shop (open 24 hours) and they did have some nice sales, but I wasn't really tempted. Although a coconut bra and a muu-muu would hide a multitude of figure flaws.

L's birthday is coming up, and Nana brought her a present. She was proud of herself - it was a regifted item from one of her friend's grandchildren. I appreciate the gesture of support, and L was happy with her new playset of these bobble-headed things with ginormous eyes.

So the upcoming birthday demon raises it's ugly head...
Check out www.birthdayswithoutpressure.org for some of the do's/don'ts which were out there before everyone started pinching pennies. I get so frustrated with the one-upsmanship, and kids are great at keeping track lest you forget the particular party trauma.

For several years now, we've thrown birthday parties and specifically said NO GIFTS, which would sound heinously cruel if it weren't for the fact that lots of grandparents, aunts and uncles send plenty. And, oh yeah, about half of the folks disregard your request. So there are some presents, which must be paid homage to, but the folks who didn't bring a present feel badly even though they were following our wishes.

Last year I decided to do an art supplies potluck: bring whatever items you had on hand, we'll put them all together and see what creativity emerges, and everyone gets to take home what they've made as well as a grab bag of art supplies. It was surprisingly fun, and went fairly well until kids were being picked up and then the frequent query: "So where's my gift bag?"

So, fast-forward to this year, and my daughter is approaching 7, and a party is called for. Our normal approach is to request no gifts, and it seems disingenuine to change that so OTHER people can buy stuff and alleviate the pressure on us. But L's requests for gifts are getting so darned specific, and she tempers them with asking us what we'd like, so she can ask for that too.
Ouch. An additional complication: we're inviting all the girls in her class to a pizza party and sleepover. Our neighborhood friends are understanding of our quirks, but her school friends are another story. I'm attempting to design an invitation tonite, with some sort of message about the no gift thing, that will be clear but not offensive or sanctimonious. My mission, whether I choose to accept it or not. Stay tuned.