RSS Feed

Tag Archives: old fashioned fun

The Solution to Summer Fun: Sometimes It’s Just One Simple Thing

As we are approaching the end of July, I’m realizing summer has edged past its’ full swing hitch. If we are to believe the well stocked aisles of school supplies already on display at the Walmarts and Targets around America, we are sidling up to the last hurrahs of summer vacation. Over the last few weeks I’ve read plenty of articles and blog posts on how to have great frugal fun with your kids this summer. I even listed some fun stuff to do to celebrate summer back as we all headed into summer on Memorial Day Weekend. This weekend , however, my five year old taught me an extremely valuable lesson.

Knowing that my husband would be away for the weekend working in another town I asked my son if he wanted to do anything in particular this weekend as a special treat. He beamed and said “Mom, I want to stay home and PLAY!” I scratched my head a minute and tried again thinking he didn’t really understand what I as offering.”Do you want to go to the zoo? Maybe a bike ride? The Farmer’s Market again would be good…” (since I really did want to go back). And he said, “No, Mom. All I want is to stay home and play. With you.”. Well ok then, I thought. We can certainly do that. I was a little befuddled by this. Staying home and being together is kind of our regular thing. But I’d asked and had given him free reign on this choice so I was in the soup for whatever it was he asked for (within reason, of course, and this clearly was).

So stay home we did. Over the course of our weekend, we did a little minor grocery shopping (Had to have milk, of course. And he wanted ice cream for our stay home weekend) but we mostly stayed in. Now, when I say stayed in, we really did. Between the July desert heat and then, later, the rain since we are now entering monsoon season here, we literally stayed in. We played Chutes and Ladders so many times I lost count (I only won once. And we play fair!). We wiggled and danced and stomped for hours playing Hullabaloo and laughed as my 18 month old would stand ever so proudly on the wrong color or shape (of course he’s too young to know colors and shapes yet-but he knows ‘nose’ and ‘feet’ and ‘head’ and ‘car’ and…ok, you get the picture). We baked cookies. We made popcorn and turned out all the lights and laid on the living room floor with pillows to watch Dumbo one evening. The next evening we’d decided we had so much fun the first movie night that we watched Ratatouille. We played airport and we played chase. We played Ranch with my son pulling out the Little People Farm along with his playhouse and pairing them to create a Ranch. I listened to the intricate story he was building around his creation. We built train tracks and chugged for miles. We opened the windows when the rain rolled through and marveled at the fierce sound of thunder and the incredible smell of rain in the desert. They helped me make dinners (and strangely they actually asked for broccoli-I’m a really lucky mom). Tonight while making dinner my son was playing in his play kitchen near my real one and was busily creating a restaurant. He was wearing his chef hat and apron and reading his “cookbooks” (which were really  my dictionary and a few of my antique schoolbooks). He asked how to spell “spaghetti” and I realized he was making a menu. We talked about how much he should charge. $1 for the spaghetti. $2 extra for the “really good meatballs” (smart kid). He asked for an extra long bathtime to play and see just how prune-y they could get. Afterwards, we all cleaned up the toys together and settled things down. We were in pajamas and enjoying our homemade ice cream sundaes together around the table (he had even scooped the ice cream himself-mostly) and I asked him, “So, sweetie, what was your favorite thing about our weekend?” He looked at me and smiled an ice cream-sticky smile and said “You Mom.” I was stunned. I asked “Not making peanut butter cookies? Playing Ranch?” He said, “No. My favorite thing was being with YOU.” Like that was the easiest and clearest thing in the world. Because to him it was. There was no need of zoos, or trips anywhere, no need for high impact, quick moving, big dollar fun. No need to break the budget. He just wanted Me. Even when he has me all the time and everyday. I was stunned. I am humbled.

We all tend to go looking to fill summer with zoom-pow-bang fun and activity. We look for advice on how to entertain our kids and families on a budget. But here’s the secret my five year old taught me because my five year old has it more right than I could have ever guessed: All they really need is us. With them. In their world. Front and center and present. Sometimes it’s just as simple as that. So next time you’re wondering what to do with the rest of summer, put down the list and take your kids’ hand. They will lead you where they need to go. All you have to do is follow.

Masterpiece Sundae on Sunday night-with two cherries-just how my five year old wanted it.

Advertisements

Fishing Lessons: Remembering to Budget Time Wisely

Yesterday my husband had one of the few glorious days off he will have all summer (he has only four more real days off with us until Labor Day, in case anyone is wondering). My oldest son, who is five years old, had recently begun talking about going fishing since he’d never gone before (we don’t buy cable and my husband has an affinity for the old Andy Griffith Show which we watch on a DVD collection we have. Little Opie Taylor goes fishing some and my son thinks this is cool. If this doesn’t tell you just how suggestible children are I don’t know what will.). We’d considered doing something entirely different with this rare day off. I needed a haircut and we could use a trip to town for a few things (“town,” by the way, is 75 miles away). But listening to my little boy I knew how important it was to be quiet and be still and hear his heart. You see, time is not like money. You can never earn more of it. We are born and have a finite amount of it available to us. When we look at the length of our lives we should consider that, out of an entire lifetime average of 70 to 80 years, childhood is fleetingly brief. My son will be five for only a year. In the arc of his life, and mine as his mother, this is but a nanosecond of time. I looked at my husband over our children at dinner and whispered “Let’s go fishing tomorrow. Let’s have a better memory.” He whispered back, “but you need a haircut.” I smiled and shook my head and whispered back again “no. I’d like a haircut. We need something better tomorrow. With all of us as a family.” We got into our pajamas that night, after dinner, spread a blanket on our back lawn and laid on the grass to watch the stars come out while we listened to the desert wind blow in the trees. We hadn’t told the boys yet, but we were going fishing tomorrow.

The next morning my husband came to me and said “maybe we should just practice casting on the lawn today since he’s never been fishing and then go ‘for real’ on another day. That’s what I did as a kid. Practiced first.” I considered this a moment. Then I said no. I reminded him that we have few precious days together this summer and I told him that we aren’t going fishing to catch fish. The fish were incidental. We were going fishing to catch this time in our lives because we cannot get it back. We were not seeking the perfect casting experience. This would be the day we introduce fishing to our kids. There would be mud and wet, tangled line, lots of instruction and plenty of goofy things likely to happen. He said “but we don’t have the right clothes and the right gear.” I smiled. I said, “A fishing pole, some bait, snacks and water are all we need. We’re going.” After a stop at our local store for fishing licenses for my husband and me, and an inexpensive fishing rod for our son, we were on our way.

After a good half hour drive, we wound our way back from the main highway to a small lake tucked back in the mountains. It was hard not to be stunned by the beauty of this area we hadn’t seen before and marvel that it was only minutes from the highway we’d driven many times. It was quiet. There were people hiking around the shore nearby and the quiet sound of their chatter. Mostly there were people sitting quietly with fishing lines in the water. There was the occasional sound of summer thunder in the distance, birds tittering and chirping, an occasional bark from the few dogs running free with their owners nearby and the effervescent excitement of our own children. We spent three glorious hours fishing. There were muddy fingers holding dangling worms. There was, indeed tangled fishing line. There was plenty of instruction in how to navigate the rocky, sandy shore without falling down and the discovery of how to perch on a good solid rock while bait fishing and how to watch the bobber for the sign of a fish nibbling. There was an introduction on how to reel in ‘just so’ when spin casting. There was the re-injury of a previously scratched up knee and the gentle cleaning and re-bandaging of the boo-boo while drying a few tears. There was our first and only catch of a large crawdad eating the worm intended for the trout I didn’t catch, which made us laugh. We saw fish jump from the corner of our eyes and would turn and point too late to see anything more substantial than the ring of water left by the phantom swimmer that had disappeared beneath the water. We witnessed tiny fish swimming near the muddy shore. There were, as it happened, no trout reeled in to bring home. But what we brought home was so much more than that. When the sun started sinking lower in the sky and it was getting on toward dinnertime, we packed up and climbed the rocky hill back to the car for the drive back home. My son sat in the back with the warm glow of satisfaction on his face and said “Mom. Dad. I love fishing. Maybe we’ll get a fish next time. When are we coming again?” It was a simple day with nothing more than the desire to capture our time, a brief moment.

It is so easy to get lost in the busy of our days. It is easy to overcomplicate our lives and those of our children. It’s easy to give into a life so loud with the insistence of our daily to-do list that we miss the simple opportunities to use our time wisely.  I love gadgetry and gizmos and technology as much as the next person but sometimes it can make us lose touch with what is simple and real. It can overfill our lives with multitasking, making us lose more time than we realize. It’s easy to forget that time is a limited commodity that cannot be regained. Sometimes all we need is to remember that life is simple. That our time is finite. In the end, really, we have all we needed to make life wonderful all along. Budget and use your time wisely. You’ll be glad you did.

Fishing lessons

Using time wisely

What makes you simply rich? (And our decision on the cable vs. antenna dilema)

Recently, we had family come to visit. It was a good visit. But they were deeply concerned. They could not, in any way, see why in the world we chose to live with some goofy looking rabbit ears on an old CRT television set. While they were here we started losing a few of the channels we’d previously had (we weren’t down to just the single one we had this past Friday just yet). We weren’t terribly dismayed by this but thought maybe we ought to try out a better quality antenna as we had company. It didn’t work. They took this as a sign that we must really be broke and struggling if we just could not afford cable. It took us three days and a lot of long heart-felt and loving conversations to convince them that not only are we just fine, but, for the most part we really do prefer life this way. We love the simplicity of it. We like not being inundated by a constant news loop or all the commercials causing our kids to insist that the world will end if they don’t have that new gadget that the television man swore was the very best thing ever! (I’ll never forget how hard it was to convince my five year old that Blue Bell Ice Cream wasn’t necessarily the very best ever just because the commercial said so. It IS good. Very good. But that’s not the point). This point of contention over our choice of antenna use went on, in spite of my two children happily playing outside in dirt (we have a LOT of dirt in the desert by the way), and making art on the sidewalks with chalk and reading books and playing cowboys and indians and space men and knights in shining duct-tape-covered-shopping-bag armor. My kids have some dvd’s they enjoy, but mostly they don’t miss cable tv because they don’t have it. We have old-fashioned fun. We read a lot. We laugh a lot. We listen to music a lot. And they have a healthy understanding of the joy of Saturday morning cartoons (something that my generation may have been the very last to really appreciate). We like the effusive childhood joy that rings throughout our home for lack of constant droning and distracting television. Until we limited the channels coming into our house we had no idea how much of a drain it was on our family life other than just the budget. Simplicity can bring so many rich things to our lives. I think it becomes easy to chase something we have been convinced is better, when in reality it may not be. So, dear friends, I share our choice on the cable matter as well as this old story with you I stumbled across today because it is timely to what we just experienced here at my house:

How Poor We Really Are

One day a wealthy family man took his son on a trip to the country so he could have his son see how poor country people were. They stayed one day and one night in the farmhouse of a very humble farm. On the way back home at the end of the trip the father asked the son, ‘What did you think of the trip?’

The son replied, ‘Very nice, Dad.’

The father then asked, ‘Did you noticed how poor they were?’

The son replied, ‘Yes, I guess so.’

The father then added, ‘And what did you learn?’

To this question, the son thought for a moment and answered slowly, ‘I learned that we have one dog in the house and they have four. We have a fountain in the garden and they have a stream that has no end.

‘We have fancy lanterns in our garden, while they have the stars. Our garden goes to the edge of our yard, but for their back yard they have the entire horizon!’ At the end of the son’s reply, the rich father was speechless. His son then added: ‘Thanks, Dad, for showing me how poor we really are.’

~Author Unknown~

We’re sticking with the antenna. For now.

So, dear readers, what unexpected rich joys have come into your life because of something you’ve simplified?

Crushing chalk

Art: Rainbow Rock. Medium used-crushed sidewalk chalk and...a rock. All on his own.

%d bloggers like this: