Simplicity Parenting by Kim John Payne, Lisa M. Ross
Authors: Kim John Payne, Lisa M. Ross
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things that no longer fit on the floor). Topographically, the stuff functions as an archeological image of the child’s commercial life so far: the deeper you dig, the earlier the toys. The room’s pastel color scheme and basic furniture—bed and now bureau where the changing table once was—are no longer visible, buried under a thick overgrowth of multicolored, ever-growing, and expanding stuff.
Of course, not every kid’s room looks like this. And certainly not every day. This image is surely an exaggeration. But based on my sampling of children’s bedrooms, I’m certain that many parents would recognize some aspect of their own children’s rooms in this picture. It is animage by no means limited to wealthy or upper-middle-class families, either; the quality of the “stuff” may differ, but the quantity can be similar across class lines.
In my lectures and workshops, I’ve found that the issue of stuff—the sheer quantity of toys, books, and clothes that accumulate around a child—strikes a nearly universal chord. After giving a lecture with a broad overview of “simplification,” much as we covered in Chapter One, I usually suggest breaking into smaller groups to discuss issues more fully. When I ask parents to choose which of the four levels of simplification—environment, rhythm, schedules, and filtering out the adult world—they would like to focus on, the room tilts toward “environment” as most parents head in that direction.
Why do most parents want to begin by considering their child’s home environment? Why do they gather, hypothetically, at the threshold of their children’s rooms? There are two reasons. Certainly when one’s considering a big change, it’s easiest to begin with the tangible, the clearly doable. Simplification is a process, a lifestyle change that has several layers and takes time. It requires, as it builds, commitment. I have to agree that the environment we make for our children at home is an excellent place to begin simplifying. As a starting point it has traction. Simplifying your child’s room is eminently doable, and most people find that it provides results and the boost they need to continue.
Most parents also connect, personally and emotionally, with the issue. They are deep in conversation, already sharing their own moments of recognition and realization, as they gather. Despite what differences they might have—in terms of background, culture, income, or politics—they find plenty of common ground when they consider how their children’s rooms (and their homes and lives) have become deluged with “stuff.” They’ve already acknowledged, at some point or another, or perhaps several times a day, that this surfeit of stuff is oppressive. Yet perhaps never before had they thought of it as potentially harmful to their children. This profusion of products and playthings is not just a symptom of excess, it can also be a cause of fragmentation and overload. They hadn’t considered how too much stuff leads to a sense of entitlement. Or how too much stuff relates to too many choices, which can relate to a childhood raced through at far “too fast” a pace.
As I listen, I’m taken with the sense of surprise so many of us feel around this issue. It’s as though parents realize they’re on a runaway train, but they can’t believe they never noticed it speeding up. Even in the span of one or two generations, there has been a sea change, a floodof items marketed to parents for their children. Or, more often than not, marketed directly to the kids. I sometimes jot down some of the comments I hear at workshops. I remember one mother saying, “My parents are quite respectful of my husband and me as parents; they don’t ever say much about what they did differently or what we should do differently. But I’ve noticed that whenever they come to visit, they are amazed by the number of toys Jared has. We don’t even think he has that many, compared with his
Of course, not every kid’s room looks like this. And certainly not every day. This image is surely an exaggeration. But based on my sampling of children’s bedrooms, I’m certain that many parents would recognize some aspect of their own children’s rooms in this picture. It is animage by no means limited to wealthy or upper-middle-class families, either; the quality of the “stuff” may differ, but the quantity can be similar across class lines.
In my lectures and workshops, I’ve found that the issue of stuff—the sheer quantity of toys, books, and clothes that accumulate around a child—strikes a nearly universal chord. After giving a lecture with a broad overview of “simplification,” much as we covered in Chapter One, I usually suggest breaking into smaller groups to discuss issues more fully. When I ask parents to choose which of the four levels of simplification—environment, rhythm, schedules, and filtering out the adult world—they would like to focus on, the room tilts toward “environment” as most parents head in that direction.
Why do most parents want to begin by considering their child’s home environment? Why do they gather, hypothetically, at the threshold of their children’s rooms? There are two reasons. Certainly when one’s considering a big change, it’s easiest to begin with the tangible, the clearly doable. Simplification is a process, a lifestyle change that has several layers and takes time. It requires, as it builds, commitment. I have to agree that the environment we make for our children at home is an excellent place to begin simplifying. As a starting point it has traction. Simplifying your child’s room is eminently doable, and most people find that it provides results and the boost they need to continue.
Most parents also connect, personally and emotionally, with the issue. They are deep in conversation, already sharing their own moments of recognition and realization, as they gather. Despite what differences they might have—in terms of background, culture, income, or politics—they find plenty of common ground when they consider how their children’s rooms (and their homes and lives) have become deluged with “stuff.” They’ve already acknowledged, at some point or another, or perhaps several times a day, that this surfeit of stuff is oppressive. Yet perhaps never before had they thought of it as potentially harmful to their children. This profusion of products and playthings is not just a symptom of excess, it can also be a cause of fragmentation and overload. They hadn’t considered how too much stuff leads to a sense of entitlement. Or how too much stuff relates to too many choices, which can relate to a childhood raced through at far “too fast” a pace.
As I listen, I’m taken with the sense of surprise so many of us feel around this issue. It’s as though parents realize they’re on a runaway train, but they can’t believe they never noticed it speeding up. Even in the span of one or two generations, there has been a sea change, a floodof items marketed to parents for their children. Or, more often than not, marketed directly to the kids. I sometimes jot down some of the comments I hear at workshops. I remember one mother saying, “My parents are quite respectful of my husband and me as parents; they don’t ever say much about what they did differently or what we should do differently. But I’ve noticed that whenever they come to visit, they are amazed by the number of toys Jared has. We don’t even think he has that many, compared with his
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