My young childhood was spent living in the country. The big backyard with a garden, an unsafe very 90s swing set that came literally out of the ground when you went to high, a pond filled with frogs and fish, and a forest where animals could frequently be seen coming and going. Deer, black bears, wolves. They all roamed the edge of the woods that could clearly be seen from my back door.
I lived in that world from birth in 1989 until just before I turned 11 in 2000.
After that we moved a few times, first to New Hampshire where I went through middle school and then to Maine where I barely survived high school. Maine has come to be the place I think I really call home, but there is a small part of me that misses the wide open spaces of my young childhood.
Unlike a lot of the 90s nostalgia that I see, we didn’t have streetlights to call you home by. There were no other kids in my neighborhood to go run and play with. We didn’t have the Disney channel (all of the time) and Saturday morning was not spent watching cartoons while eating name brand cereal. Even as the world progressed forward, we didn’t have all of those modern conveniences, like a computer (till I was in 7th grade) and the early internet. It wasn’t till I started driving that I got my first cellphone – a Trac phone if you remember those!
As I’ve watched some of these reels or read the posts about 80s and 90s nostalgia, there is part of me that feels jealous for the life that some of you got to live. The fun, carefree, easy life that seemed to have flowed effortlessly through your days. The simple joy that you were able to find just hiding around the next corner on your bike.
And yet – I do find I can resonate so well with that simplistic joy that I see described. A slower world where things just felt lighter. We didn’t run at a pace of a million miles an hour, and there wasn’t a new thing coming flying at us every few minutes (or seconds). If we needed (not wanted) a new outfit, we had to go to the store, not click a few buttons and have it delivered later that day. Homemade meals were not elaborate, but they were everyday. The modern convenience that the food industry has created was certainly taking hold in those days, but not to the extent it is now.
As a mom, living now in a wild world of chaos, change, uncertainty, and unexpected distance, I find myself trying to create that sense of joy more and more for my children. More often I find myself saying “Let’s go outside” or “Help me make dinner”.
My boys are still little, freshly 2 & very soon to be 4, but I can already see the impact that technology is having on them. They know what phones are and what we use them for, my oldest one understands an iPad, even though we don’t have one in the house because it gets used at daycare. When we do watch TV, more often than I’d like to, the panicked “more, more” sound from them often with frantic sign language from my two year old to ensure I understand, is like nails on a chalkboard.
It’s shocking and yet also totally normal based on conversations with other parents.
I’m not sure it’s bad to be normal, but I’m also not sure I’m thrilled to be part of it either.
Even in my own world I’ve felt the strain of this pace and have taken steps away after going deep into the world of consumerism and corporate life. Since having kids it’s felt more and more like a place I didn’t belong, a place I didn’t even recognize myself in.
While I’m thankful for technology that allows me to connect with others, I’ve also found that the pace of some platforms is way too much (Facebook & Instagram immediately spring to mind). And while I absolutely went down a dark road with the click of a button shopping, I’m finding myself pulling back and returning to the days of thrifting to get what I need.
The simplest way forward has become the only way I’m interested in pursuing.
In some ways, this life is being born out of necessity. With the cost of everything on the rise and a third baby joining us next year, I simply don’t have the same disposable income I once did. That in itself is a hard realization. However, as I reframe it to be a choice, and a positive movement back to joy, it feels easier to make the jump.
I doubt that I’ll ever be able to fully return our lives to the full peace and tranquility we once had as children ourselves. But I’ll be damned if I won’t try.
This week, as October comes along, I’m focusing on being excited for the little things.
The crunch of leaves under my feet.
My hot coffee against the stark cold contrast of the air.
Parking in my garage again to stay dry during the rainstorms.
Seeing my babies run effortlessly around the playground or our own little piece of heaven back yard.
Closing out a successful garden season.
Baking more than anyone should eat because I firmly believe that homemade is calorie free.
Delighting in simple recipes that can be eaten over and over.
Choosing to not let the outside chaos permeate my mind and body so I can remain calm in my home.
I hope this week you can also find some simple joy in your life. An easy path back to who you are inside.
Or at least the version of you that you love to be the most. ❤️
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