It’s a familiar joke among my partner’s colleagues that we resemble a “modern Amish family.” This label doesn’t stem from our attire (let’s be real, I wouldn’t pull off a bonnet, and I doubt any Amish folks sport graphic tees), but rather from their misconception that our uncomplicated lifestyle equates to being “sheltered.”
In truth, I don’t see my family as sheltered. We own a couple of vehicles, use smartphones, and depend on electricity (my coffee maker is my lifeline!). We even navigate the digital realm to connect with friends and family via social media platforms. We’re not reclusive nor do we keep our children locked away from the world outside our cozy home.
Yet, some of our decisions—like choosing to stay in on weekends for family movie nights or treating a visit to the playground as a significant social event—are often perceived as hermit-like in our fast-paced society.
We don’t dine out often, our travel is limited, and we don’t subscribe to cable or have Wi-Fi at home. The latest tech gadgets? Not for us. Our largest yearly expense is grocery shopping, simply because food is a fundamental need. We lead a simple life—not out of necessity, but by choice.
I firmly believe that children don’t need to be inundated with endless experiences or possess every trendy gadget to enjoy life to the fullest. I also don’t view myself as an irresponsible parent for making our home the primary hub for their fun and entertainment.
From my perspective, a busy schedule leaves little room for reflection or the opportunity to transform experiences into cherished memories. The saying “Less is more” resonates for a reason.
Reflecting on my own childhood, I recall simple yet profound moments. The specifics of our yearly trips to amusement parks or the extravagant gifts I received during holidays fade from memory, but the joy of digging for worms with my neighbors or curling up on my mom’s lap while she read to me remains vivid.
Like diamonds formed from rough coal, my most valued memories arise from the ordinary and mundane, yet they shine brightly with clarity and significance. Those are the kinds of memories I aspire for my own children.
I want them to remember things like:
- Sneaking snacks from the pantry to indulge with siblings while building blanket forts.
- Transforming stuffed animals into a pirate crew, “walking the plank” into a pillow sea.
- Mixing “witch potions” in the backyard and witnessing Mom’s reaction when she’s asked to taste them.
- Creating quirky drawings in the gravel driveway with branches.
- Hosting picnics in the yard, sharing ghost stories around a campfire, and engaging in hedge-apple battles with neighbors.
- Putting on fashion shows in my old bridesmaid dresses, strutting down the hallway like models.
- Playing marathon Monopoly games on snow days, enjoying hot cocoa loaded with colorful marshmallows.
- Tracing each other’s bodies with sidewalk chalk, erupting in laughter when Dad surprises us with the hose.
- Relishing the taste of cake batter on spoons and pleading for one last taste of cookie dough.
- Splashing around with a sprinkler in the summer heat, or enjoying a cheap plastic pool in the backyard.
- Crafting a makeshift movie theater in the basement and personalizing popcorn bags, taking full advantage of Mom’s free refill policy.
- Staging wrestling matches with Dad’s old socks as gloves, and selling tickets to family members.
- Curling up with stacks of books on rainy days or dancing barefoot in the puddles outside.
- Capturing fireflies in jars and giggling when they light up, only to shriek when one lands in someone’s hair.
- Enjoying long bike rides under the sun, with a slushy reward at the local ice cream shop.
- Helping Grandpa in the garden, even if it’s mainly to play in the dirt (because what child doesn’t love dirt?).
I don’t want my kids’ memories to consist of fancy vacations, expensive restaurants, and lavish gifts. I want them to truly experience childhood—to discover the extraordinary within the ordinary and appreciate the beauty in simplicity.
After all, adulthood inevitably brings complications. I don’t view our lifestyle as sheltering my children from the real world; instead, I see it as revealing all it has to offer. For more insights on creating a fulfilling family life, you can check out this article as well as resources on pregnancy that may be helpful.
Summary:
Living a simple life doesn’t mean being sheltered; it’s about creating meaningful memories through everyday moments. Instead of focusing on materialism and constant busyness, embracing simplicity allows children to find joy in the ordinary. This article emphasizes the importance of lasting memories over extravagant experiences and highlights the beauty of a less complicated lifestyle.
Keyphrase: Difference Between Sheltered and Simple Life
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