It’s a lighthearted quip among my partner’s colleagues that we resemble a “modern Amish family.” This amusing label has little to do with our attire (I can’t pull off a bonnet, and I’m pretty sure the Amish don’t sport T-shirts featuring dinosaurs), and more to do with their misunderstanding that our uncomplicated lifestyle is akin to being “sheltered.”
In truth, my family is anything but sheltered. We own a couple of vehicles, have smartphones in hand, and heavily depend on electricity (coffee maker = my sanity). We even navigate the online world, connecting with friends and family through social media. We’re not reclusive, nor do we keep our kids confined within our home to shield them from the big, scary world outside.
However, certain lifestyle choices—like opting for movie nights at home or viewing a trip to the local park as a social event—can appear hermit-like in our fast-paced society. We seldom dine out, rarely travel, and don’t subscribe to cable or Wi-Fi. The latest tech gadgets? Not in our budget. Our biggest yearly expense is our grocery bill since, you know, food is kind of essential. We choose to live simply and frugally—not out of necessity, but because it aligns with our values.
I firmly believe that children don’t need to be bombarded with endless experiences or the latest gadgets to savor life. I don’t view making our home their main source of fun and entertainment as irresponsible parenting.
In my experience, a packed schedule leaves little room for reflection or the chance to turn fleeting moments into lasting memories. The saying “Less is more” exists for a reason!
Reflecting on my own childhood, it’s the simple moments that stand out. I may not recall the specifics of our annual trips to amusement parks or the extravagant gifts I received, but I vividly remember digging for worms with my neighbors and snuggling on my mom’s lap while she read me stories.
Like diamonds formed from coal, my most cherished memories arise from the ordinary, yet they glisten with undeniable clarity and significance. That’s the kind of nostalgia I wish to create for my children—memories like these:
- Sneaking snacks from the pantry and sharing them with siblings while building a blanket fort.
- Transforming stuffed animals into a pirate crew, navigating the “seas” of pillows, and facing off against Captain Hook.
- Crafting “witch potions” in the backyard, stirring random ingredients while chanting made-up spells, then watching Mom’s face as she’s asked to taste them.
- Drawing whimsical characters in the gravel driveway with fallen branches.
- Hosting backyard picnics, telling ghost stories by the fire, and engaging in hedge-apple battles with neighbors, proudly displaying our “battle scars.”
- Putting on fashion shows in Mom’s old dresses, strutting like runway models down the hallway.
- Engaging in marathon Monopoly games during snow days, followed by hot chocolate topped with colorful marshmallows.
- Lying on the ground as a friend outlines your shape with chalk, bursting into laughter when Dad sneaks up and sprays you with a hose.
- Licking cake batter from beaters and pleading for just one more taste of raw cookie dough.
- Setting up sprinklers for a splash party in the yard on a hot summer day.
- Converting the basement into a makeshift movie theater, complete with personalized popcorn bags and unlimited refills (thanks, Mom!).
- Organizing wrestling matches with Dad’s old socks as gloves, selling tickets made of construction paper to family members.
- Selecting stacks of books for cozy rainy-day reading or dancing barefoot in puddles outdoors.
- Catching fireflies in jars and marveling at their glow before shrieking when one lands in your hair.
- Taking long bike rides in the sunshine, celebrating with slushies afterward.
- Helping Grandpa plant his garden, which is mainly an excuse to dig in the dirt (because what kid doesn’t love dirt?).
I don’t want my kids’ memories to be filled with high-end hotels or planned vacations; I want them to recall what it truly means to be a child—finding joy in the ordinary, discovering the extraordinary within the mundane, and embracing the elegance of simplicity.
When adulthood hits, life inevitably becomes more complex. In my view, our lifestyle doesn’t shield my children from reality; rather, it reveals all the richness the world has to offer.
For more insights on parenting and the beauty of simple living, check out this post that delves into the world of home insemination, or visit Make a Mom for expert guidance. You can also find valuable resources on pregnancy at Kindbody.
In summary, a simple life embraces moments of joy, creativity, and connection without the distractions of modern consumerism. It’s about making memories that matter, not just filling time with busyness.