I stumbled upon this fabulous tea set the other day and couldn’t resist. Stella is just now starting to enter a more imaginative phase, and we’ve been feeding each other make-believe cookies and tea at night after bath with the Papa and the cats. So a tea set seemed in order. And while there are countless beautifully painted porcelain sets, my wee one’s tendency to drop (or shall we say huck?) precious items for fun prompted me to look for a wooden set. Non-toxic? Check. Durable? Check. Super cute? Check.
What groovy Mama could pass up a set of wooden tea bags to help her babe perfect the art of steeping. Too stinkin’ adorable.
But this tea set didn’t arrive without any struggle. I felt really good about treating Stella to a new toy. She’s an amazing kid, and she’s frankly outgrowing a lot of our toys at home right now. But I have to admit that any purchase over, well, three dollars produces a minor but significant inner battle for me. You see, the Papa and I strongly believe in fostering a sense of contentedness in the world that isn’t based on material possession. Simply put, we’re just not that into things. We totally appreciate the finer things in life, and we’ve filled our home with what we find aesthetically pleasing – art, books, books and more books, photos of the people and places we adore and a few knicky-knackys here and there that serve no purpose other than making us smile. So it’s not like we’re didactic minimalists, but we consciously make an effort to kick stuff out when we pull stuff in.
Oh, and did I mention that I’m sort of cheap too?
The gist is that we hold our possessions dearly and we hold our experiences even more dearly.
Buying stuff is cool, but we’re just very aware of the trap of buying for happiness. And this applies to how we approach parenthood as well. It’s all too easy to fall into a slight panic when I see other moms at the park with a new gadget or a new toy that just seems, well, so sexy. Yeah, sexy. I’ve literally started looking at sippy cups like some women look at lingerie. “If I buy that cup, my life will be easier, more fun and way prettier.” Hmmmm.
I know this isn’t new. Countless parents struggle with this conundrum everyday. How much is enough? What do we really need? What can we afford? When will this ever stop? And I’m not preaching here. Trust me. I spend my fair share of time at Target browsing the dangerously cute leggings for two year olds thinking, “I know Stella already has enough clothes for the next year, but three more pair of pants can’t hurt. They’re only $4.99 for goodness sake.” Rather than delving into issues of fair and equitable labor or environmental impact, I guess I’ll just say it’s downright overwhelming to parent in light of this constant barrage of apparent need.
In some ways, I suppose I’m looking for an of absolution of sorts – only to be granted by yours truly – for buying a silly little tea set rather than widdling my own out of recycled cedar from the tree we cut down last summer as we landscaped our backyard. That would have been cool, totally cool. But sometimes you gotta go with ease, and laying down twenty five greenbacks was about as easy as it comes. Of course, the battle I fought within myself as I bought the darn thing wasn’t exactly easy. The fact that I’m writing about it days later is more than telling. But the battle wasn’t entirely futile. It prompted a deeper reflection on my part that in turn caused me to forgive myself for buying thoughtfully deliberated stuff and for being part of a system I see as so trivial and distracting. Because sometimes buying stuff for your kid just feels good. A treat is a treat no matter how new or used it is.
But above all the cool gadgets and toys and doohickeys that seem so terribly tempting in those glamorous stores and catalogues, seeing my child delightfully dive into imaginative play is about as good as it gets. Actually, it’s blissful. And Stella seems to be entering that magical stage of embarking on worldly (and otherworldly) adventures with ordinary (and free!) household items like an old tissue box and a watering can. And in doing so, she reminds us, once again, of the importance of regularly taking stock of what makes us truly happy. It’s about time spent together; it’s about stories read; it’s about digging into the dirt with our bare hands; it’s about laughing and shouting as we wrestle and cuddle; it’s about chasing one another around the house when it’s pouring outside; it’s about watching one another and knowing what would make that person feel loved and special; most of all, it’s about connection and love.
But this tea set didn’t arrive without any struggle. I felt really good about treating Stella to a new toy. She’s an amazing kid, and she’s frankly outgrowing a lot of our toys at home right now. But I have to admit that any purchase over, well, three dollars produces a minor but significant inner battle for me. You see, the Papa and I strongly believe in fostering a sense of contentedness in the world that isn’t based on material possession. Simply put, we’re just not that into things. We totally appreciate the finer things in life, and we’ve filled our home with what we find aesthetically pleasing – art, books, books and more books, photos of the people and places we adore and a few knicky-knackys here and there that serve no purpose other than making us smile. So it’s not like we’re didactic minimalists, but we consciously make an effort to kick stuff out when we pull stuff in.
Oh, and did I mention that I’m sort of cheap too?
The gist is that we hold our possessions dearly and we hold our experiences even more dearly.
Buying stuff is cool, but we’re just very aware of the trap of buying for happiness. And this applies to how we approach parenthood as well. It’s all too easy to fall into a slight panic when I see other moms at the park with a new gadget or a new toy that just seems, well, so sexy. Yeah, sexy. I’ve literally started looking at sippy cups like some women look at lingerie. “If I buy that cup, my life will be easier, more fun and way prettier.” Hmmmm.
I know this isn’t new. Countless parents struggle with this conundrum everyday. How much is enough? What do we really need? What can we afford? When will this ever stop? And I’m not preaching here. Trust me. I spend my fair share of time at Target browsing the dangerously cute leggings for two year olds thinking, “I know Stella already has enough clothes for the next year, but three more pair of pants can’t hurt. They’re only $4.99 for goodness sake.” Rather than delving into issues of fair and equitable labor or environmental impact, I guess I’ll just say it’s downright overwhelming to parent in light of this constant barrage of apparent need.
In some ways, I suppose I’m looking for an of absolution of sorts – only to be granted by yours truly – for buying a silly little tea set rather than widdling my own out of recycled cedar from the tree we cut down last summer as we landscaped our backyard. That would have been cool, totally cool. But sometimes you gotta go with ease, and laying down twenty five greenbacks was about as easy as it comes. Of course, the battle I fought within myself as I bought the darn thing wasn’t exactly easy. The fact that I’m writing about it days later is more than telling. But the battle wasn’t entirely futile. It prompted a deeper reflection on my part that in turn caused me to forgive myself for buying thoughtfully deliberated stuff and for being part of a system I see as so trivial and distracting. Because sometimes buying stuff for your kid just feels good. A treat is a treat no matter how new or used it is.
But above all the cool gadgets and toys and doohickeys that seem so terribly tempting in those glamorous stores and catalogues, seeing my child delightfully dive into imaginative play is about as good as it gets. Actually, it’s blissful. And Stella seems to be entering that magical stage of embarking on worldly (and otherworldly) adventures with ordinary (and free!) household items like an old tissue box and a watering can. And in doing so, she reminds us, once again, of the importance of regularly taking stock of what makes us truly happy. It’s about time spent together; it’s about stories read; it’s about digging into the dirt with our bare hands; it’s about laughing and shouting as we wrestle and cuddle; it’s about chasing one another around the house when it’s pouring outside; it’s about watching one another and knowing what would make that person feel loved and special; most of all, it’s about connection and love.
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