This Stuff Matters

I seem to be nesting a bit early this time, but I like the results! My basement is almost clean, the attic is clearing and I can see closet floors.

Little time left for blogging, but this winter was a very cluttering one and I need the space more than I need the break.

It's amazing how a few weeks of sunshine remind me of how unimportant all the stuff we have is. We've been spending hours puttering around in the dirt, playing with Sammie the turtle and just soaking up the sun. Suddenly the toys and CDs and even the books just seem so pointless. I know I'll appreciate them come the next rainy day, but for now, it's good to simplify.

There are times when I look around at how much we have, and I wonder if we are doing our kids a disservice. My kids rarely ask for anything. They just get. Granted, they don't see or hear any advertising, so they don't have that I-need-it mentality, but we often don't give them the chance to really wait for something. Delayed gratification is such a lost concept.

My generation was reared in entitlement. Many of us were taught that we were the best, the brightest, the prettiest, the sweetest and all-around perfect... just because. Many of us were given everything we needed and far more than we wanted.... just because. And many of us never learned how to delay spending, how to earn something we wanted, or how to appreciate what we had. Fortunately, I was not one of them.

But I fear that my kids may be.

My kids have eaten out more this year than I did in my entire life before college. And I am not kidding. My kids get sweets on a fairly regular basis. My kids have far, far too many clothes and way too many toys. I know that eating out and having sweets and wearing clothes and playing with toys is not wrong. But at what point do we say, "Enough!"? It is a question I have asked myself several times over the last seven years.

Several circumstances have contributed to my renewed concerns. I finally, at the urging of Amy, watched The Story of Stuff. Although I found it a bit fanatical, it was a great reminder of how materialistic we have become in the last few decades.

The other thing that really got me going was an incident that occured at Asker's Tee-ball game. He was a late addition to the team and my first introduction to the other players and parents was at the first game.

He proudly put on his uniform at 2am and woke me up seventeen times before 7am. After hours of "can we go now?", it was finally game time. He grabbed his new glove and we left.

When the other kids started showing up, I was in shock. These were five and six-year olds decked out like they were in the major leagues. Almost every single other child had his/her own ball bag completely loaded with gear. Multiple bats per child, loads of balls and co-ordinated batting helmets. They had special shoes and special socks and UnderArmour for the cool morning. They had personalized water bottles and energy snacks. FOR TEE-BALL!

When I played Little League, we used team bats and balls and helmets. We drank out of the team water cooler and had a snack when the game was over. Asker has his own bat, but we hadn't even considered bringing it. I hadn't bought him a batting helmet that he would grow out of in a year, and I sure as hell wasn't buying him a $150.00 ball bag.

But then as they were all sitting on the bench and the coach told them to get their batting helmets on, little Asker spoke up.

"Excuse me, Coach? I don't have my own batting helmet."

And a little knife of guilt went through me.

What kind of mom was I that didn't buy her perfect, precious first-grader a batting helmet. How could I expect him to do his best if I didn't provide the tools? Did the other moms think we were too poor? Hell, I was standing there, visibly pregnant, holding a snotty-nosed 8-month old and trying to keep two toddlers quiet. What would they think of me?

And then the coach reminded me of what it all was really about.

"That's okay, buddy! We're a team and we have lots of helmets and bats to share!"

And I remembered why we didn't buy the extra gear. I remembered why it hadn't even crossed our minds to buy the extra gear. He didn't need it.

After the game, Asker asked me if he could get his own helmet. I thought about it for a minute and told him that he needed to play the entire season and show responsibility, respect and commitment. And that if he was a good example to the (mostly younger) other players and tried his best, we would get him a helmet for next year. He smiled and said, "Awesome!"

And, in that moment, I felt sorry for the other kids' whose parents had probably not even considered not buying all the extra gear.

But I also realized that had we seen all the other kids' gear first, before that first game, we probably would have bought him a few extra things. Just to keep up. Just because it was expected and it was the norm. And that scared me.

I want to make sure that the choices we are making as parents are the right choices. not just the socially acceptable ones. I want to think through every choice and make sure my kids are learning delayed gratification, appreciation and, yes, even disappointment. I want them to understand their value doesn't come from just being, but from the respect, honor, love, joy, patience, friendship, mercy and grace they show others. Of course, we value them even when they show anger, disrespect and hatred, but I want them to realize there are better choices.

And I think reducing our materialism (yes, even farther) is a key.

So, we went through forgotten or unused toys and clothes. We talked about kids who need them and the joy their stuff will bring to others. We talked about how hard Daddy works and how we need to value the things we buy because they are a result of his labor. I reminded them of the true story we read last year of the children in the Liberian orphanage who ate a plain donut for every single meal. Every single day. Every single year.

I hope it will stick.

And maybe the next time I get a 10pm craving for Taco Bell, I'll open the fridge and just eat some leftovers.