I am a frugalista, there is no doubt. But for some reason, I'm struggling with my decision to give my son a kitchen set that I bought at a garage sale for Christmas. This, I realize, it the stupidest thing I have ever written.
A) My son doesn't know what Christmas is.
B) My son doesn't know what a garage sale is.
C) My son thinks a Pottery Barn magazine is the best present ever.
D) My son thinks a Duplo block is a phone. ("Hi... hi. HI HI HI.")
I bought the (adorable, wooden, high-dollar) kitchen set from a friend at her garage sale last summer and left it at Kalli's because Johnny was way too young for it then. I have noticed that he likes the kitchen set at daycare, so it's time to bring ours home. VOILA. SANTA. It all makes perfect sense, especially given HE DOESN'T EVEN KNOW ABOUT CHRISTMAS YET.
But, I have a nagging feeling that I am a total a-hole of a parent, for pulling this gift charade over on my unsuspecting baby. Will I have to tell him one day that Santa brought him a used refrigerator for his second Christmas? Will he hate me for it later, and tell his therapist about it?
My son has very few things that have come to him shiny and new. Which is great. Reduce, reuse, recycle. Cheap. Love it all. But, sometimes is something new worth it? If so, when? Or, is it a good message to him? Shall I raise him on garage sale Christmases, so he learns to respect items and money and value?
Or am I just using recycling and "lessons" as an excuse to be myself: namely, the cheapest bitch in town?
Showing posts with label Megan. Show all posts
Showing posts with label Megan. Show all posts
Thursday, December 2, 2010
Monday, November 8, 2010
Within reason
I find myself worrying far too much, far too frequently, about what other people will think, about living up to, or even exceeding, "their" expectations.
I do it regarding my mother. She worked full time, had three kids, cooked dinner every night, and kept our house spic and span. I had clean sheets once a week, and my Keds were never dingy. She's a tough act to follow. She was active in her church, responsive to my grandparents' needs, and even managed to do some socializing, although probably not as much as I'd want to do. The woman ironed our jeans.
And with friends. I keep mental track of all the nice things my friends have ever done for me, and I want to make sure I "pay them back" adequately. I think about all the talents my friends have, be they crafty, sporty, cook-y, musical, or otherwise, and I think I should be able to do all that stuff, too, as well as all the stuff my mom did (I need to learn to sew so I can make Johnny's Halloween costumes!).
Even strangers. I look at the women I see online, and while I know that what I see online is only a "persona", I figure I better be as witty, savvy, and clever as they are, or even moreso. I look at how they take care of themselves, how their kids are in private schools, how their homes are full of just the right objects d'art, and I think I better get a move on. I see how they are feeding their families "unprocessed" foods and how they are managing their gardens and making daily bread from scratch. I feel bad for the box of Kroger Brand 'Nilla wafers on my shelf.
The trouble is, I say to myself, "WHEN?" I leave the house at 7:00 every morning, baby in tow. I get home after 4:00, usually closer to 5:00 because I have to do the shopping, and then I have to cook dinner, do laundry, bathe the kid, and pick up our messes. I need to spend some time just playing with the baby, and talking to my husband. By the time all that happens, it's 7:30, and I'm sitting down to watch a TV show while I upload and edit photos, or fold the last load of laundry for the evening. And dinner? It might have been Kraft Mac and Cheese, or it might have been homemade chicken and noodles, but I guarantee you even if it was the latter, those noodles came from a bag. I DO NOT HAVE THE TIME.
I do not have the time to get my eyebrows waxed, let alone get a facial. I do not have the time to bake a pie from pumpkin in a can, let alone roast and puree my own. I want to make all of my family's food from scratch, I want to do it more than anything, but it is not reasonable.
So, reasonable. That is what I'm going for these days. I can't keep our sheets clean all the time, and there will probably be a spill on the floor, and my outfit won't be the most fashion forward, and my cooking will only be semi-homemade. My blogs will contain unedited photos and my laundry will be sitting on the dresser instead of hung up neatly.
But we'll be clean, fed, and dressed. We'll be relatively healthy and I'll force a vegetable on us every night. It is reasonable to expect that sometimes my car will reach critical mass, and reasonable to assume my friends will be better than me at a lot of things. It is also reasonable to allow myself to go out now and then, to say "yes" to a beer and "no" to the laundry.
What I need most is to remember that while it may feel like everyone is judging me, that mostly comes from within. No one is spending time thinking about how my walls need better art, or how my outfit is from last year. And if they aren't thinking about it, why am I? I cannot do it all. I can't work, be super-mom, crafty-girl, homemaker and journalist. It's not reasonable. So I pick. I sometimes pick television over clean floors. I'll have to forgive myself, because I'm probably the only one who cares.
I do it regarding my mother. She worked full time, had three kids, cooked dinner every night, and kept our house spic and span. I had clean sheets once a week, and my Keds were never dingy. She's a tough act to follow. She was active in her church, responsive to my grandparents' needs, and even managed to do some socializing, although probably not as much as I'd want to do. The woman ironed our jeans.
And with friends. I keep mental track of all the nice things my friends have ever done for me, and I want to make sure I "pay them back" adequately. I think about all the talents my friends have, be they crafty, sporty, cook-y, musical, or otherwise, and I think I should be able to do all that stuff, too, as well as all the stuff my mom did (I need to learn to sew so I can make Johnny's Halloween costumes!).
Even strangers. I look at the women I see online, and while I know that what I see online is only a "persona", I figure I better be as witty, savvy, and clever as they are, or even moreso. I look at how they take care of themselves, how their kids are in private schools, how their homes are full of just the right objects d'art, and I think I better get a move on. I see how they are feeding their families "unprocessed" foods and how they are managing their gardens and making daily bread from scratch. I feel bad for the box of Kroger Brand 'Nilla wafers on my shelf.
The trouble is, I say to myself, "WHEN?" I leave the house at 7:00 every morning, baby in tow. I get home after 4:00, usually closer to 5:00 because I have to do the shopping, and then I have to cook dinner, do laundry, bathe the kid, and pick up our messes. I need to spend some time just playing with the baby, and talking to my husband. By the time all that happens, it's 7:30, and I'm sitting down to watch a TV show while I upload and edit photos, or fold the last load of laundry for the evening. And dinner? It might have been Kraft Mac and Cheese, or it might have been homemade chicken and noodles, but I guarantee you even if it was the latter, those noodles came from a bag. I DO NOT HAVE THE TIME.
I do not have the time to get my eyebrows waxed, let alone get a facial. I do not have the time to bake a pie from pumpkin in a can, let alone roast and puree my own. I want to make all of my family's food from scratch, I want to do it more than anything, but it is not reasonable.
So, reasonable. That is what I'm going for these days. I can't keep our sheets clean all the time, and there will probably be a spill on the floor, and my outfit won't be the most fashion forward, and my cooking will only be semi-homemade. My blogs will contain unedited photos and my laundry will be sitting on the dresser instead of hung up neatly.
But we'll be clean, fed, and dressed. We'll be relatively healthy and I'll force a vegetable on us every night. It is reasonable to expect that sometimes my car will reach critical mass, and reasonable to assume my friends will be better than me at a lot of things. It is also reasonable to allow myself to go out now and then, to say "yes" to a beer and "no" to the laundry.
What I need most is to remember that while it may feel like everyone is judging me, that mostly comes from within. No one is spending time thinking about how my walls need better art, or how my outfit is from last year. And if they aren't thinking about it, why am I? I cannot do it all. I can't work, be super-mom, crafty-girl, homemaker and journalist. It's not reasonable. So I pick. I sometimes pick television over clean floors. I'll have to forgive myself, because I'm probably the only one who cares.
Monday, October 18, 2010
Taking off
I am trying to travel more.
It goes against my frugal sensibilities to travel, seeing as it means a bunch of eating out, a bunch of gas-use (or worse - plane tickets), and paying to sleep in a bed when I'm already paying the mortgage on my house.
It goes against my frugal sensibilities to travel, seeing as it means a bunch of eating out, a bunch of gas-use (or worse - plane tickets), and paying to sleep in a bed when I'm already paying the mortgage on my house.
Monday, September 27, 2010
The big tent
My first Brewfest with Todd was in 2007. In 2008, he was on the road, and in 2009 we had a brand new baby so no one went. Todd joined me again this year, 2010, for a day of beer sampling, eating, and live music, and a night of campfires, friends, more beer, and camping. Since it had been a couple of years since he had been able to go to this favorite-of-events, Todd has been thinking about it and preparing himself for quite some time. It's one of our favorite things we do together,
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