Starting Out...

Welcome to 2009 and although I hesitate to call them resolutions, this is the time when I tend to (over)evaluate how I am doing. This is beyond the level of status update, i.e. Facebook, that seems to encourage pithy superficial phrases in the third person. It's more of a look at how my day to day choices reflect my values. Of course now that we're shaping the next generation, it becomes a battle of guilt vs. sanctimony - step right up, everyone is a winner.

Part of this year's Christmas preparation was having the kids help me round up a trunkload of clothes, toys, and books we'd outgrown and bringing it all to Goodwill. We had a surprisingly good time with this project and it got me thinking - why not celebrate the other end of the consumption spectrum? Too much whining energy goes into the "gimme" phase, where tired parents give in on occasion just to get a tad bit of peace and quiet.

Full disclosure here: my name is Karen and I'm a shopaholic. Hi, Karen!

According to my charming husband Bob, I buy toys like a divorced dad. And I don't think he meant it as a compliment. To me or to divorced dads. This has become a capital-I Issue.

Let me explain. No, there is too much. Let me sum up:

I am, at heart, a cheapskate. Compliment me on a new sweater, you'll be greeted with "Like it? Garage sale! 2 bucks!" (Insert the universal symbol for oversharing HERE.) There is something vindicating about buying things on extreme sale - the thrill of the hunt rides roughshod over the question: Do I really need this? It's classic consumer thinking - a deal too good to pass up, who cares if I don't need an elaborately beaded quilted down tea cozy? It's 90% off!

So my inherent frugality doesn't result in less stuff, but more cheap stuff. This is also an Issue.

Why do I shop? Occasionally it is a source of entertainment, a way to kill time, a default value. I'm not proud, but I am a tired stay at home mom. Plastic rocket launcher with light up foam rocket: $4. Keeping several preschoolers entertained for a few hours on a rainy weekend at camp: priceless.

All justifications aside, this has resulted in displeasing the spousal unit. Nothing ruins a homecoming in our humble abode like the banshee call of "Look what Mom bought us!" And now the kids have picked up on it, they ammend their requests to include the caveat "We won't tell Dad!" Not exactly a healthy dynamic to set up, unless of course I'm trying to assist future therapists everywhere by providing a steady stream of clients.

And then there's the internal/infernal inconsistency: I am always saying we should value people and experiences over things. My rant about relatives sending too many presents isn't unique. I have made some inroads: encouraging grandparents to get the family a membership to the zoo or children's museum as a gift of year-long entertainment. In Minnesota, indoor activity options are essential to survival 6 months of the year. Think The Shining, people.

So time for me to address my own toy-giving tendencies. To best limit my chances of lasting behavioral change, I've decided on overkill. Yup, I'm going to work out every day too. Here's what I've come up with:

For one year, I will not buy anything new. Nada. Of course groceries are excluded. If I need something, I will either make do with existing stuff, or buy it second hand. We're still in negotiations about whether the samples at Salvation Army qualify... That's a whole 'nother entry. And I have to go work out. Really.


Coming up:
- Benefits of Hypomanic States re: Housekeeping
- Talking with Mary Beth and Tim, who have actually done a year already...
- How to get the kids to sign on, as it is VOLUNTARY simplicity, right?
- Best places to find second-hand stuff in the Twin Cities.
- Reactions from others.