Two Months and Counting: 5 Things We've Learned So Far

When I first started writing about simplifying our life, TWO WHOLE MONTHS ago - cowabunga! - I was quick to say that we had no idea what we were doing, or what we were getting ourselves into, and that is totally still the case. Each day we face new obstacles; we have a long list of things we suck at, and an equally substantial one of things that we're better at than I thought we'd be. And all along the way we're learning stuff. Like kids actually do get tired of pancakes. Joshua turns inside out when he doesn't have coffee. Kitchen knives are only good for shaving if your end goal is death. Yogurt is easy to make. Spell-check thinks 'cowabunga' should be 'bungalow'. Shall I go on?

Sometimes cutting things out of our lives isn't beneficial, even though it may seem obvious

Like when I cancelled our Internet service to save some bucks, because we are capable adults and we can go to the coffee shop. 

It's genius. I can load the kids into the car and drive somewhere so I can unload them, buy a coffee, spill it while wrangling the kids to a table that's too close to the whispering couple next to us, unload the tablet, subject the entire store to the screams of Pearl when I tell her she can't play it right now, log in to the free-with-purchase WiFi, swipe back to the page I'm viewing each time Pearl swipes the screen, log in to the bank account, pay each of my bills, twice, because Pearl is clicking the buttons for me, scold Jude because he's under the table of the man in front of me, get nasty stares from the woman across from me who either has perfect children, or cats, finish paying my bills, log in to post my blog, stifle tears when Pearl deletes it, give up and pack up to find that Jude is now outside, drinking a frappuccino with lipstick on the straw that he found on an abandoned table. And all before lunch!

The gas, time, money and, ahem, sanity that I personally would have to spend at most places to get any work done negated the relatively small cost-savings. And although it really isn't a need, in this instance the convenience-factor is worth it for me. Then after all of this pondering, I realized that my husband telecommutes for his second job, so...Internet back on.

Being legalistic won't get you closer to your goal, unless your goal is to be an asshole

With such a stark contrast between our first month of rigid monotony that was quickly turning Joshua into a textbook "crabby old man," and our second month of, well, chaos, it was obvious to me that our third and subsequent months would need to be better balanced. I personally operate very well with an all-or-nothing approach to spending; it's easier for me to keep my focus. But I'm not alone in this journey, and as I've learned recently, empathy isn't my strong suit.

For my family, my husband especially, in order to to stay excited about this year of frugality, and for everyone to be successful in the lifestyle we're striving for, there need to be certain compromises. For Joshua, having a treat to look forward to every once in a while will keep him on the narrow path as well as in a good mood. For me, having very clear, set-in-stone parameters about exactly what those treats are is necessary to hold me accountable. Luckily Joshua is easy to please, so a treat for him might be a beer once in a while, or, like, a package of bacon. What am I, a tyrant?! I concede. 

I know we're not going to be perfect and we were never aiming for perfection. We're trying to look at the spirit behind what we're doing. Yes, we have goals and definitely need to be semi-strict with our spending in order to be effective in wiping out our debt, but not when it doesn't make sense. Bureaucracy is one of the things we want out of our life, after all. Getting takeout on a hairy day shouldn't be strictly forbidden, especially if it's the only viable option at the time, but it also shouldn't be the root of excessive online binge shopping. This isn't a social experiment. We want to make permanent changes to our lifestyle, and aside from the fact that it's completely unrealistic, denying ourselves even the smallest pleasures for the sole reason that it's 'the rules' we've established won't do anything but create resentment. We believe that life shouldn't just be lived, it should be enjoyed. And I like to eat ice cream sometimes, so sue me.

Our strengths and weaknesses can surprise us

Turns out that one of the things that I thought I'd have a terrible time at - buying piles of clothes for my children on every clearance rack I can find at Target - wasn't even an issue. I never thought I'd go a month let alone a week without entering that glorious realm. I know the store better than its own associates and I laugh every time they ask me if I'm "finding everything ok." HA! Buying things for myself on the other hand,  which I did have a slight episode with, was a surprise to me. It's rare that I shop for myself but it's not because I'm a martyr, it's because I cost more, and honestly don't usually have the time. But I've learned that in cutting unnecessary spending from my life, my affinity with getting a good deal has only increased. Saving money is even more important to me now, so when I see a great deal it's that much harder to resist. You can read about my struggle with this here.

Another weakness-turned-strength was in the kitchen. As much as I love feeding my family healthy meals, I hate cooking. Granted, I always end up trying to cook during the kids' witching hour. But before it seemed like it was at least once a week that I'd have Josh pick up takeout on the way home or suggest we go out as a family. And I'm a nutrition freak! Don't tell anyone. However, since we've been on our anti-spending campaign, we've cooked just about every meal at home, from scratch, and I've done a large part of that. I still kind of hate it, but what used to be a major weakness is now, at least, greatly improved.

Simple living doesn't have to equal inconvenience

I have what some may call high-maintenance children - I like to consider them well-attached. They love to be with me, and I them (most of the time). But I've found that the trade-off to spending less money is spending more time working around the house. Living simply requires me to do more things myself, and while cooking from scratch, making my own laundry soap, canning my own food, and using cloth diapers are all rewarding in their own ways, they can become burdensome if my kids want me and I am pulled in opposite directions. 

Luckily I'm finding the balance. Simplicity isn't always denying ourselves the luxury of convenience, it's finding ways to create that convenience ourselves without being dependent on the packaged, store-bought versions. As long as I remember to plan for the off-kilter days, things roll smoothly. Inexpensive foods like dry beans and rice save a ton of money, but only if prep time is factored in. Cooking from scratch is definitely the way to go, but only if there are quick and easy-to-prepare meals on hand for the wacky times. I mean, just because I don't buy freezer burritos doesn't mean I can't make my own to pop in the oven if there is pandemonium. A secret stash of homemade popsicles can also be life-saving when you just need everyone to shut up for a few minutes. 

millions of peaches

When we acknowledge our true needs, blessings are more evident

Do I think our former way of life was separating us from God? No, but I do think it was distracting us from Him. When we live cluttered and jumbled lives, it seems that we need God to be bigger, talk louder, and act more extravagantly in order for us to even acknowledge Him. I know that I've been guilty more than once of overlooking an attempt by Him to care for me which instead was seen merely as some incidental event that happened in the course of my day, if it wasn't missed altogether. I've found that as our life has been intentionally cleared and the excess continues to be weeded out (and believe me, we have a long way to go), we've been able to see more of the ways our God has chosen to show His love for us, and we've been able to give credit where credit is due. Whether it's in the form of a few bucks found stuffed in an old coat, or a dinner invitation on a night that there's no food in the house, we're beginning to be more thankful for all of those 'ordinary' things that happen to us, that are actually quite extraordinary.

Have you ever wondered where your loyalties lie? Do you want to know what drives you? It's a challenge, but try not spending money for a month. Money isn't just the sinews of war, it's the sinews of life, at least in the Western world. It can't be avoided. We need it for just about everything, both good and bad. When my family quit spending, it put a lot into perspective. We recognized things in our life that needed to take a backseat, but what was even more interesting was our discovery of the things that continued to motivate our spending, even after the purse strings were tied.

So, here we are, still learning, messing up and moving forward. It's both exhausting and exciting but my heart is still in it, which is, hopefully, a sign that stubbornness isn't my only driving force. Have you ever done such a thing? Would you? I'd love to know your story.

How My Bender Altered My Perspective

It's possible that we've experienced a small hiccup in our objective to fully eradicate unnecessary consumption from our lives. I've been pretty transparent this far, so when I say that we fell off the wagon, it's because I want my blog to be honestly written, not because someone caught Joshua at Costco buying pizza and beer. 

Say what?! 

It was late January and we had gone over a month without spending a dime on anything but two tanks of gas and minimal groceries, and I was fired up, man! We had made considerable progress with our debt, and I had already observed palpable transformations to our family life in just thirty short days. It was cathartic, to say the least.

And then I relapsed. 

It was one of those days when things just didn't align. We all have them, granted, but I'm pretty sure I have them more than most. So when Jude and Pearl required my undivided attention and the demands of motherhood came bidding, I put my children first, of course, but I didn't prepare myself to readjust for the "off" day. So at the end of it, yes, I had two happy kids, and I definitely consider that a win. But they were also kids up past their bedtime without dinner, and all I had on hand were dry beans and a raw chicken. And I gave in.

Enter Joshua the hero. The fixer of all of my mistakes. The one I can count on to look the other way. A victim of sublime manipulation. With dinner that I may or may not have influenced him to buy while we both talked ourselves out of talking ourselves out of breaking our streak of awesomeness. It was quite splendid. Never mind that Josh is lactose intolerant or that there wasn't a single logical explanation for buying an entire case of beer. Nonetheless, we had invited the possibility of failure in, and we reveled in it. 

The pizza was my gateway drug. A few days later I bought some yarn on eBay. I needed it to finish the shawl that I was crocheting, because everyone knows that I wear shawls. At the grocery store I bought some wine along with my staples with the excuse that I was going to cook with it. I didn't even drink it while cooking. Then I bought some books for Jude, which are educational, and they made me feel better about the wine. And then it snowed. 

Snow. My ultimate weakness. The reason they invented whiskey. A legitimate excuse to stockpile random crap, because who knows if this is going to be "The Big One." The weatherman might be wrong. It could be the end of the world. And don't forget all of the extra, non-essential, and therefore expensive groceries for our favorite late-night comfort foods. Because at our house, being snowed-in requires that our kitchen be temporarily converted into a gastropub. 

I was, by this time, in danger of completely reverting back into my old spending patterns, and Joshua wasn't complaining, because I was buying meat. Using the snow as an excuse for a vacation from day-to-day life, I randomly looked at one of my forbidden shopping websites that I hadn't so much as thought about since Christmas. Of course I was overwhelmed with sale after glorious sale. And I didn't have snow boots. Do you see where this is going? Needless to say, what began as an innocent and forgivable pizza dinner ultimately culminated in my purchase of a pair of boots that are, to be frank, never going to be worn in the snow. I knew I had gone too far. But with final sale items there are no returns, and in the words of John Lennon, "living is easy with eyes closed."

I have since gotten back in the saddle and am behaving myself once again, but that momentary lapse in judgment was a good reminder of just how easy it is to slip back into our old habits. In addition, it further strengthened my desire to be unaffected by the lure of material wealth (i.e. shoes), which I am not yet immune to, as much as I try to be. 

While we continue to make significant headway with our debt and unquestionably learn from our mistakes, the light in the darkness is that after only two months, I feel that my mindset has been permanently altered. Because although I still spent money on things that were far from necessary, I wasn't completely oblivious to it as I had been in the past. Does that make our little joyride ok? No, in fact it most definitely makes it worse. But I feel that acknowledging this also confirms the wisdom that I've gained through my trials, which rather forcibly establishes our carelessness in our financial affairs as past tense. Our days of feigning ignorance are over, whether we like it or not. And for that, I am grateful that I have these most excellent boots as a memento of irresponsible days gone by.

"When I was a child, I talked like a child, I thought like a child, I reasoned like a child. When I became a man, I put the ways of childhood behind me."

-Paul the Apostle

1 Corinthians 13:11 NIV

"For wisdom is more precious than rubies, and nothing you desire can compare with her."

-Solomon
Proverbs 8:11 NIV

How Duct Tape is Making Me a Better Human

I just fell off of the toilet. 

Let me preface this by saying, two days or so after we started our anti-spending campaign, Joshua let me know that our toilet seat was broken. One of the hinges was in fact snapped off at the seat but, while it was a bit wobbly, it was still being held together for the most part. Since it was so early in the game we were adamantly against spending money for something so stupid. We decided that since it was still getting the job done, we'd just live with it and be careful until it completely fell off.

Apparently one never knows just when their broken toilet seat is going to effectively die. I'm thinking it's because most people don't wait this long to replace them. I was obviously unaware of its progression, and so while peeing and simultaneously trying to reach for Pearl's toothbrush (I like to multitask), I was thrown from my resting place, along with half of the seat.  

My immediate reaction as I was still flailing in midair, thankfully not mid-pee, was, ok this has gone far enough. I'll ask Joshua to get a replacement on his way home from work. The problem is that we have been living on a ridiculously small budget. So while we have money in our savings for the current bill we're hacking away at, aside from a true emergency, we're not supposed to be dipping into it. And we haven't! Not even for a bottle of wine. Insert sad emoticon face here. And that means that our budget for incidental expenses is shot until Joshua gets paid again. 

But come on crazy, it's a cheap toilet seat. Ten dollars isn't going to break the bank. You're getting a little too obsessive about paying off your debt. I know it's what you're thinking, because I said all of that to myself already. And as I was shopping for a replacement on Amazon, I was reminded how we got here in the first place. I mean, all of that little stuff adds up, and regardless of what it is, I can find a justification for buying just about anything. It's a superpower of mine. I knew that if I caved for this one thing, it would start a domino effect and before I realized it, the savings would be gone. Again. 

Quite frankly, I have a throw-away attitude when it comes to 'junk' that I've chalked up to living in a small house with a severe lack of storage. I don't like keeping crap around, so as soon as something isn't doing its job, it's on the curb and a replacement is found. I think "Hoarders" is one of the grossest shows I've ever seen. And until recently, I've prided myself on this ethos because I've considered it a way to validate my belief that we're not materialistic. So in attempting to prove that my money-spending habits don't stem from a temporal vein, I have, instead, been ignorantly demonstrating that I am exceptional at being lazy. Oh, and prideful. 

I don't think my attitude is any different than the vast majority of people in our country. Our reaction to practically everything in this culture is to spend, then think. Our first inclination when something breaks isn't necessarily, how can I fix this? More often than not it's how much money will it cost to replace it, and how quickly can I get back to my life? It's not the desire for that instant gratification that makes the consumer-driven lifestyle so ugly, though. It's the ridiculously narcissistic notion that as 'Americans', we're entitled to it.

What are we as a family working for? Freedom from consumerism? Or a toilet seat? I mean, hopefully my eccentricity makes the answer obvious. But I also couldn't just leave the wreckage at the risk of one of my kids falling off the pot, so I found an alternative solution. Duct tape, baby. It really works! I might seem cheap, and my toilet definitely looks cheap, but the goal of being debt-free is more important to me than appearances at the moment. And, added bonus, while we have a less-than-perfect-looking bathroom, I also get a lesson in humility. Take that, materialism!

(For those of you who may be guests in our home, please be advised that this is a temporary fix, and has been safety tested by a professional pooper.)

Duct Tape

Let's just be clear - it's life, I get it, and crazy frugality only gets one so far. No, not everything is under our control, and stuff is going to pop up that will probably set us back a few steps. I can't put duct tape on the speeding ticket my husband got last week. I tried, but apparently also can't put duct tape on the laptop that was haphazardly launched from a moving backpack yesterday. Warts? Yes. But being thoughtful with the things that we can control before making decisions to just spend, even when those decisions seem totally straight-forward, can be eye-opening. And aside from the obvious benefit of reducing the ridiculous waste that's so prevalent in our society, using our God-given brains once in a while is great exercise. And I can't help but think, if I could have just looked to my creativity before pulling out the checkbook every time I thought I needed something, how much closer would we be to the life that, until now, we've just dreamed of?

Changing the Rules

I just ate glue for dinner. To be fair, it was supposed to be pasta I guess? But Joshua didn't have all of the ingredients because our budgeted grocery shopping day isn't until tomorrow, so he improvised. A lot. I'm not complaining, au contraire, there's no denying who the better cook is in the house. I was actually surprised that his pasta paste didn't magically turn into "I have just made a mess in my trousers, this is amahzing," because that would by typical. But, come on, I'm married to a trained chef who thinks the best thing I ever made was a tater-tot casserole. I'm going to make fun of his food when it sucks.

Yes, tonight's dinner was pretty much epic. The kids laughed when we put their plates in front of them like they didn't know what to do with the food (?) on it. When Pearl held hers up at arm's length to get a better idea of exactly what she was looking at, it literally started dripping on cue. Jude was busy smacking the globs of noodles (?) on his plate with his fork and making some pretty convincing farting sounds while Joshua and I tried not to laugh and not to taste the food (?) that we were choking on from laughing. I mean really, how do you tell the kids to stop when you yourself want to know how well your dinner would stand up in a Papier Mâché contest?

Before all of this I would have been irritated and put out by a shitty dinner. Ironically, because then we could have and probably would have just run down to a local taco cart and gotten burritos to remedy the botched meal. But even so, I know I would have been unpleasant for the rest of the night because, well, it's happened before, and apparently I'm uptight. Can anyone say control freak? I mean why?! And here we are now with a completely unsatisfying dinner and no way to remedy it if we're going to keep ourselves on track, and I'm laughing about it. 

What changed?

When I look at our current situation I really don't see it as that extreme of a transition in any way. If you boil it down, we're just going without the extra. We're not suffering, we're not in poverty, we're certainly not martyrs. But before we decided to sever our ties from the self-centered way of life, I felt like we were all of those things. Victims of circumstance. We weren't in control, we were being controlled. And when everyday things happened that didn't go my way according to the rules of the world, I considered myself a failure. Whether it was a fried egg that I didn't cook to perfection, or a beer that wasn't quite cold enough, or a day with the kids that didn't have a perfect storybook ending, or a turd in the bathtub, or my house not looking exactly like one out of a magazine - I could go on - I managed to let the most ridiculous things ruin my day.

But when we quit allowing ourselves to be subject to society's standards, something shifted. We no longer have an obligation to the world or to its ideals. Our measure of failure or success comes from God alone. And because of this, life feels...dare I say it? Easier. It's as if a weight has been lifted and we're getting a little taste of the freedom that we've been pursuing. I'm not saying that I'm always cheery or that we don't have bad days, I mean, shit still happens. But lately everything, even when it doesn't go our way, has been just a little happier, a little richer, a little easier to laugh at. Because we're not bound by the rules we used to live by anymore.

Despite one sucky meal, we're together, doing something we're excited about, having fun, and making hilarious memories along the way. To top the night off, Joshua wouldn't accept that his pasta dough was unfit to eat, so while I was writing, he was in the kitchen, trying to salvage it and write a new recipe. He just emerged with what looks like a bowl of crackers and what tastes like "I just crapped my pants, this is amazing."

"Come to me, all you who are weary and burdened, and I will give you rest. Take my yoke upon you and learn from me, for I am gentle and humble in heart, and you will find rest for your souls. For my yoke is easy and my burden is light.”

-Jesus

Matthew 11:28-30 NIV

~alternate translation~

"Are you tired? Worn out? Burned out on religion? Come to me. Get away with me and you’ll recover your life. I’ll show you how to take a real rest. Walk with me and work with me—watch how I do it. Learn the unforced rhythms of grace. I won’t lay anything heavy or ill-fitting on you. Keep company with me and you’ll learn to live freely and lightly.”

-Jesus

Matthew 11:28-30 MSG

Waking Up

One of the things that we did when we put a freeze on our bank accounts was set a strict grocery budget. And when you only eat whole, organic food, money does not go far. Some may wonder why we still eat this way if we're trying to save so much money, but one of the things we said from the beginning is that we aren't going to sacrifice the health of our children, and for us, that means that we're still very careful with what we put into their bodies. 

So far we've been really good at substituting what we have on hand or just going without if it's not important. The past couple of days have been particularly sparse since it's the end of the month, but we've still been eating nourishing, well-rounded meals, and for the kids who don't care about having the same breakfast several times a week, that's just fine. 

In order for Joshua and I to keep the kids eating well, however, our tight budget meant that when we ran out of coffee, we had to start drinking the tea that we had on hand, and when we ran out of that, Joshua suggested we just drink hot water and lemon like old people...but we didn't have any lemon. Cue the tiny violin: and that's when we began drinking our own tears. 

Because getting out of bed is one of my least favorite activities, and that morning cup of freshly ground organic coffee can either make or break my day, this may have been difficult for me. Let's face it, I'm a bitch in the morning, and I'm a food snob. Those two things put together make for an ugly morning when I'm waking up to being strangled by necklaces that my kids are attempting to decorate me with.  But after going to the store with $3.00 in glass milk bottle deposits and finding that we could buy enough loose-leaf, even organic tea to last a couple weeks and still have change leftover, I had to admit that my daily coffee fix wasn't at the top of the priority list. Reminding myself of our goals and the many reasons behind what we're doing, I was surprised that I was completely on board, without any complaint, resentment or reluctance about canceling our coffee subscription.  In fact, I found the whole situation refreshing and liberating, and damn it, I was pretty proud of myself.

So when my brother showed up on my doorstep, fresh in from Afghanistan, with a can of coffee under his arm because, well, he didn't want my tea, I realized just how incredibly blessed we were. I mean yes, my brother was home from deployment, but he had brought me coffee. I dwelled on that for the next few days: the fact that I had given up coffee for our cause and how my brother had just shown up with some, like it was some amazing "God thing." We were so blessed, I thought, even in the most tangible ways. Yeah, shallow much?

It was a slap in the face when I realized that I had, myself, become prey to the profound deceptions of this world. We find joy in the utmost insignificant. We gratuitously consume, we keep tiresome and verbose lists of the things that we expect God to oblige us with because "he loves us." We, humanity, are gluttonous to our cores, unable to appreciate even the most fundamental offerings that we should see as precious. So absorbed with what a "blessing" the coffee was that my brother brought us, I barely realized what a treasure he himself was, sitting there healthy and safe, home for the holidays, in my kitchen.

What's really important in this life? A decent cup of coffee? A hot shower? Our blinding preoccupation with the things that make us feel good, even those that are in and of themselves estimable, like feeding our growing children healthy food, doesn't come close to the people that we have in our lives. Because let's face it, if I didn't have my brother to share that cup of coffee with, or my kids waking me up every morning, violently assaulting me with costume jewelry, then what would be the point of waking up at all?

The Grey Area - Is Toilet Paper Really Necessary?

I might be insane. But I'm ok with that. We're three days in and I'm already trying to find new ways to challenge myself in the not-spending-money department that are maybe a little, tiny, baby bit weird. But I'm ok with that! I'd say I was trying to challenge Joshua too but he's already been crazy for several years. I wouldn't be surprised if I found him naked and covered in mud, running around in the backyard attempting to poach squirrels for dinner. Was that too detailed? 

In all sincerity, I have become really excited about the prospect of doing with what we already have and being, well, creative for this next year. I find myself asking maybe weird questions, like, what does prison wine taste like? Why did I buy light bulbs when we have all of these candles and oil lamps? Do people still buy human hair?

In a moment of dumb, I found myself thinking, awww, my daughter loves it when I take pictures of her. I should buy her a toy camera! Seriously Elissa? Christmas was how many days ago? Luckily I snapped out of it -no pun intended - and went and built her one out of duplos. To which followed the question, what else can I make out of Legos?

I did finally hit a wall today when my suggestion to try out "family cloth" was met with some resistance by Joshua. And by resistance I mean that he threatened to stop using the toilet altogether. For those unfamiliar with this concept, family cloth, in layman's terms, is reusable toilet paper. To be fair to myself, I didn't think things through and the idea of washing rags that previously removed poop from my husband's butt didn't really sit well with me either. Touché.

So today we had to go buy toilet paper since the restaurant napkins that we found in the car were about to run out. Yes, it's toilet paper, considered a necessity in most modern homes. But knowing that there was another less convenient but still plausible, and darn it, GREENER way around buying the stuff, I felt that we had somehow failed by making that singular purchase. But marriage is about compromise, right?

Yet, I still find myself thinking that there are people in the world who use leaves, or their hands, or fancy water fountains, and I can't get around the fact that no, toilet paper is not really essential to our survival. But then, what is? Aside from the black and white food, water, air, and shelter, just about everything else in this life falls into the grey area. If our plan is to make only the most "necessary" purchases in order to get out of debt and live closer to life itself, then we have to decide what things we take with us from our current way of living, and what we leave behind. 

I know that to many, even the consideration to avoid a toilet paper purchase seems asinine, and whether you think I'm an extremist or not, this was the first time that I really felt challenged by the prospect of being a little bit uncomfortable in order accomplish something that I feel Christ is calling us to. We knew we would eventually have to face the fact that some of the things that we can't live without are actually things that we just don't want to live without. I just didn't expect it to happen this soon.

What we're attempting to do isn't for everyone, and I'm not saying that when this year of radical financial moderation is over we're going to continue in every aspect of it. Some changes we make may stick, and some we might be glad to be done with. Regardless, we are learning how to survive and thrive, and without many of the things the world tells us we "need." We are becoming more flexible, adaptable, innovative. And when it's all said and done, if we walk away from a year independent of the figurative toilet paper but more dependent on Jesus, then what did we really lose?

So have we had a change of heart? Are we ditching the TP? Not yet at least. As it stands now, the materials for a sanitary setup would cost us a little bit of money, which we're obviously trying to avoid spending, especially since we just paid for a bunch of paper that was made specifically to be thrown away. But to be completely honest, as we go through these glorious rolls of luxury, Joshua and I have agreed to reconsider the possibility that buying toilet paper may not be necessary for our family at this time. I feel like it's the only option if we're going to be true to ourselves and to what we're doing this year. Fortunately, we did shop for the best deal, which happened to be in the form of a 48-roll package the size of a small human from the neighborhood Costco, so we have a 4-month supply before have to decide how far we're going to take this.

“I didn't go to religion to make me happy. I always knew a bottle of Port would do that. If you want a religion to make you feel really comfortable, I certainly don’t recommend Christianity.”

-C.S. Lewis

If the idea of family cloth has struck a chord with you, I encourage you to check out Penny's post over at Penniless Parenting's blog - she makes some pretty convincing points.

Starting Strong

Admittedly, the past few days have been pretty easy for us as far as spending goes. We're actually up by $8.00, go figure. We didn't intentionally plan to go AWOL right after our biggest holiday of the year, but I am really thankful that we did.

On the one hand, if you're going to re-brand your lifestyle, just doing it cold turkey might be the only way that you'll ever make the leap. But some may feel like it's such a huge change that planning for it isn't such a bad idea. I feel like we got the best of both worlds by impulsively starting the day after Christmas. We ripped the band-aid off, but conveniently, with a few cash gifts from generous relatives still un-spent and leftovers in the fridge. 

Obviously I don't want to put anybody into one single category. We all come from different social, religious, economic, and cultural backgrounds. Maybe every day of the year is the same for you. Then pick one and go. The important thing isn't having a cushion starting out, it's that you're starting. But if I could give any advice to the few reckless souls who might find themselves following in our footsteps, it would be to wait until your most boisterous and merry day of the year, enjoy the hell out of yourselves, and then pretend that Ash Wednesday happens every day for the next year.  Because starting strong with some good things to eat or new toys to keep the kids busy, or even some extra money to put toward a debt takes the sting out of the initial realization that you're not a wayward consumer any longer. 

"The life that I aspire to live

No man proposeth me,

Only the promise of my heart

Wears its emblazonry."

-Henry David Thoreau