We were walking home from school drop-off and chatting to a neighbour; the usual June chatter: what are you up to this summer? Heading out of town or sticking around? Camps? etc.
He said, “Well, we bought a tent trailer this year, so we’ll try to do some camping. I thought that our vehicle would pull it, but it’s very slow & heavy, so I guess we’ll be getting a new one.”
It goes something like this: I don’t want to pay hundreds of dollars a night for vacations, so we will invest in camping instead, which is WAY less costly.
It seems true. Until you buy a trailer. And a new vehicle to pull the trailer. And $20 away your financial margin on gadgets and tools and second items to live in the trailer.
Loads of people love camping and are delighted to spend the money; it’s exactly what they want to do. If that's you, fantastic! Maybe you will use that trailer for years and years and the financial equation will totally come out in your favour. Maybe it's not about money at all, and you want to access places you wouldn’t otherwise, or there are benefits that you can’t replicate in a single location rental. If all of that is the case: great. God bless. Enjoy!
Here’s the thing: I’m not really talking about camping.
This conversation is a perfect example of our tendency to look at money in isolated, incremental ways, rather than the big picture. The first thing my husband said, after we parted ways with the neighbour, was, “I wonder how many weeks of a timeshare we could get for the cost of all that camping equipment.”
His comment obviously reflects his own holiday affinities much more than a dedicated camper, but it also reveals why he’s rarely had regrets when it comes to money he’s spent.
It’s not just about comparing between types of trailers or types of vehicles… as Dan Gilbert said: money doesn’t know what it’s being spent on, whether it’s $100 saved on a car or on groceries. Do I want to spend $15,000 on camping-type vacations, or $15,000 on a house rental on a lake, or $15,000 on renovating my home, or $15,000 to give to disaster relief or refugee assistance??
It’s all the same money, and we’re too smart to let it slip away in “I guess we need a new vehicle now.”
This summer, go in eyes wide open. Practice the art of comparison! Think about the value, to you, of holiday purchases & spending choices. It may sound like a hassle, but trust me, you will actually start feeling better about your money, not worse.
And, if you're going camping, eat a s'more for me! ;)
Six years ago, my family unknowingly set ourselves on a journey toward starting a children’s clothing company.
It didn’t start with a business plan, it started with a single choice — a simple “no”.
On April 25th, 2013, the four of us — me, my husband, & our two daughters — were sitting together at the table, eating lunch. The news was on, which, in hindsight, was really unusual; we are not typically TV watchers, especially during a mealtime. I don't remember why the TV was on, but I do remember getting out of my chair, picking up my daughter, and walking closer to the television.
I received a big shipment of blankets a few weeks ago, and on Instagram I posted this photo of me with the pallet of 16 large boxes towering over me.
Subsequently, I received several DM questions about when the new blankets would be added to the site. The answer is not now but also always — both are true!
This seemed like a good time to give you all a tour into our dignify back room to explain more of how we make this colorful business work.
I've joked for many years that I think of parenting as "a slow death to self".
The death to self part (or maybe, less dramatically, a minimizing of self) is obvious : as a parent, your own "needs" & desires shuffle down a little lower on the list of importance when you have a dependent. (With the notable exception of that oxygen mask on an airplane, where I'm told you're supposed to put yours on first!).
The "slow" part is maybe a bit more arguable... When a child arrives in a parent's life, things change pretty quickly! But, in my experience, it has overall been a slow process of giving myself up for others, with acute times of change that are particularly noticeable.