Stuff is too cheap

When our twins were infants, I read somewhere that the average American toddler has around 150 toys, only a fraction of which she actually plays with.  I scoffed self-righteously, sure that our children would never be so pointlessly over-indulged.  After all, when I was a kid, all my toys fit in one little trunk.  There were probably dozens of them, at most.  Certainly not hundreds.  My wife claims to have had even fewer toys than me.  And most of them were sticks and rocks.

But as our girls approach their second birthday, this is what their playroom looks like:

I don't even want to know how many toys are in here

Then there’s the nursery, which I won’t post a picture of out of fear that someone will call in a hoarder intervention on our household.  There’s a dresser and a wardrobe that are chock-full of baby clothes in there, as well as several plastic tubs of clothes that are either too big or to small for the girls.

And shoes!  Good Lord, these kids are twenty months old and they already have more pairs of shoes than most grown women.  Shoes are a big part of their lives.  In fact, the younger twin’s first word was “shoe,” and now both of them can say “shoes” in three languages.

It would be easy to blame this acquisition of stuff on our consumerist society and the ubiquity of advertisements that cajole us into running out to buy the latest gadget or outfit for our little darlings.  But it’s more complicated than that, and maybe less nefarious.

As much stuff as we have accrued since the kids were born, our monthly expenses have actually decreased. This stuff that’s filling up our house (and yard, and garage) hardly cost us anything.  Between gifts, hand-me-downs, bargain shopping online, and second-hand stores, we’ve furnished our house in Fisher-Price (along with a few tasteful wooden items) for less per month than what we once spent on going out to eat.

It seems to me that, although there is definitely plenty of pressure for parents to buy expensive stuff for their kids, there is also a whole culture of bargain hunting that creates a different kind of consumerism, in which  parents feel compelled to buy anything that seems like a good deal.

Last weekend I had the opportunity to see this culture in full effect, when I attended a massive swap meet (a.k.a “flea market” to you East Coasters) that featured children’s clothes, toys, books, and furnishings.

My wife met up with some of her mom-friends an hour before they opened the gates to school parking lot where the swap meet was held, and I showed up later, after feeding and dressing the children.  I missed the opening of the gate, but I heard reports that it rivaled the Running of the Bulls in Pamplona for sheer chaos and danger.  Moms (mostly) shoved and jostled their way to the vendors selling the most coveted items, laying claim to playground equipment, Stride Rite shoes, and all manner of kids’ wheeled vehicles.

When I arrived, the first hint of how serious people were about getting their bargain on was the parking lot.  Handicapped parking spaces were completely filled, with nary a handicapped tag to be seen on a license plate or rear-view mirror.  The fire lane was was blocked with minivans, and cars were parked on the street for as far as the eye could see.

In addition to the variety of family wagons, there were many full-size vans and pickups sprawled around in the anarchic parking lot, as well as trailers and rented moving trucks.  I saw a station wagon pulling out with an entire swingset strapped to its roof.

Within the gates, the swap meet was a hive of shoppers, buzzing from one table to the next.  The initial feeding frenzy was over, and now the bargain hunters were working steadily and with a great sense of purpose, sifting through bins, comparing products, and negotiating prices.

Hive of consumerism

My wife and I had agreed that we would only buy clothes and shoes, since there was a legitimate need for those things as the girls outgrew their current stock; but that if we bought toys, we would have to get rid of something equal in size from our house.

And we almost adhered to our policy.  There were just a few impulse buys, which generally went down like this:

My Wife: [picking up some fuzzy stuffed thing] Oh, this is cute…

Me: [rolling eyes, sighing] But they don’t need any more stuffed animals…

Wife: But it’s a giraffe!  They love giraffes!  See…[dangling stuffed toy in front of kids]

Twin A: [with glee] ‘RAFFE-’RAFFE!!!

Twin B: [reaching skyward] TALL!!!

Me: Okay…that’s pretty cute…

Wife: Two dollars…

Me: Okay, okay…

We managed to make it home with nothing more than a bag full of nice shoes and clothes, and a couple toys.  Although I must admit: I got swept up in the spirit of the event at one point, and was ready to purchase a great big pedal-powered tractor with a bucket that the kids could control with levers, just like a real front-loader.  The girls took right to it.  Unfortunately it was already sold.

What?  We’re planting a vegetable garden in the back yard.  It’s totally practical.