The Good Old Days: A Rant and a Resolution

Patrick and I have been married for six and a half years. I can hardly believe it. We began as poor college students, living in a tiny one bedroom apartment a short walk from campus. We only ate meat once a week and, for the other six days, experimented with at least twenty variations on rice, beans, and ramen.

We lived on the bottom--the door on the left.

We'd walk down this street to get to the school. Can your heart burst from missing a place so much?

We had a small tube TV for videos and we didn't have internet (that's what the library was for!). When we wanted to go on a date, we'd go watch a meteor shower at the Blue Ridge Parkway or set up a tent in the living room to eat Totinos dollar pizzas and watch the entire first season of The Office.

Life was awesome.

As it does, life changed. I graduated and got a full-time time job at the school while Patrick worked part time and finished his classes. We moved a few blocks down into a two bedroom apartment. Our little girl was born.

Slowly, we started improving our quality of life. We discovered that the loaves of bread that cost $1.50 actually do taste a whole lot better than the ones you can find for $1. Because I needed it for work, we finally got internet. We bought our first car together and gave our borrowed car back to Patrick's uncle.

When we could work it into our overloaded schedules we'd still head outside. And, given our surroundings, who could blame us? But life was a little busier, a little more complicated. Still beautiful, but complicated.

Our college campus

Fast forward four years. We're in Georgia now, where there are fewer hills and more fields, much like my home state of Indiana. Still beautiful. We've been through several different jobs and added two children. Our lives are busier yet in a lot of different ways. 

But strange new stresses are starting to creep in--ones that I never thought to expect or prepare against.

Like how desperate we were to get different seating in our living room. Our poor old loveseat had been graciously handed down from Patrick's great-grandparents and had lived a long good life. However, there were not enough seats for visitors, and the loveseat itself was ripped and worn. Shouldn't we get a new couch? Or at least a couch cover to freshen things up, and another chair? Don't we need that--a newer and more functional living room?

Or how our dates have changed. There's the stand by: a redbox movie after the kids have gone to bed (if we can stay awake). Or we actually try to orchestrate a real date, which is invariably (and unimaginatively) going out to dinner. Then we have to think about what fits in the budget, whom we should have watch the kids, whether we should use family or spend the money to hire a local babysitter, babysitting here or at their house, whether to go early enough that the kids won't need put down or later but worry about the kids not going to sleep, whether to bring the baby or leave him behind, whom to call, what to set up for dinner, when to pick the babysitter up, how much to pay based on number of children, number of responsibilities, general "good-ness" of each child's behavior, etc.

(Yikes. Redbox is sounding better and better, no?)

Or how going to the grocery store no longer a relaxing evening escape from the kids; it often ends up in nothing but a big, fat headache. I mean, what really is in those hot dogs? Should I get the all-beef ones, or are the mixed meat ones really fine nutritionally? Are any hot dogs okay nutritionally? What about cereal? Where is that fine line between "sugar cereal" and "palatable healthy-ish cereal"? One type might be cheaper (always watching the price per ounce) this week, but only if I buy four other "participating items," and some of those might not be on the grocery list--is it worth it in the end? And, oh, I need more fruits and veggies, because we know those are healthy and we all love to eat them, but how many will fit into the grocery budget? Are grapes on-sale enough? Can I even remember which of the fifteen types of apple my family likes, always balanced with the price per pound? And don't even get me started on organic vs. non-organic. *mental overload*

*deep breath*

That's when I grab what ever is cheapest and right in front of me, sprint through the rest of the list grabbing only what is closest to me on the shelf, and picking up a candy bar on the way out.

Cambrie exploring (and weighing) all the produce options

What is it that changes? Why do I all of a sudden care so much more about things that never seemed to stress me out before? It's not that they are necessarily unimportant. I think it's good to want a clean, comfortable, hospitable home. I think making time for dating your spouse is a solid part of a good relationship. And I know that sticking to a grocery budget and striving to eat good, healthy foods are important habits to develop.

So what has changed? What happened to the couple that would invite friends over and offer a bean bag or a large trunk or a spot on the floor for seating as we all munched on chips and watched a movie? What happened to date nights where we'd play Scrabble or card games or take turns drawing plans (with colored pencils and crayons) for our someday-dream-house? What happened to splurging on a whole box of frozen taquitos for dinner and calling it healthy because it included chicken?

Image source

So what I need is a balance. One on side I need to be wise and proactive about making changes to impact our lives for the better. This is a good thing! But on the other side I need to shut out the hype of the world (the latest and greatest in home design, relationship advice, and clean eating mania) and remember that simplicity is okay. 

Not all changes are necessary. Even if a change might be good, it might not be necessary now. Decide what I can do, do it consistently, and leave the rest for later. Throw any residual guilt out the window. Reevaluate as needed.

Take a deep breath. Enjoy my family. Spend more time outside.

Cambrie living the simple life back in Virginia

And for heaven's sake, break out that Scrabble board more often. Sometimes simplicity is more attainable than we think.