six steps to have a late 90s/early 2000s summer
and why I'm having one
It’s no secret the late 90s and early 2000s are having a moment. Decorative geese are making a comeback in cottage-core kitchens everywhere. Black stretchy chokers, platform shoes, and butterfly clips are back on the scene. I, a side-part forever kind of girl, have been wearing a middle part in my hair.
The throwback has everyone in a chokehold, yours truly included. Nothing is better than my happy childhood viewed through the lens of rose-colored nostalgia.
Time is swiftly fading, and it makes me want to chew up a Flintstone’s vitamin and really get my health in order. It also reminds me of how different childhood is now versus then. I want to give my kids and myself a 90s/00s summer like the ones I had growing up.
There was a show on PBS called Frontier House. (I watched it as a kid with my family in the early 2000s, funnily enough.) Several families decided to spend a year living in Montana like it was 1883. If it didn’t exist in 1883, they couldn’t use it.
I’m envisioning something similar, with fewer constraints. A summer like the ones I had in my youth. Already this is way easier because I’ve yet to chop my own wood to cook. I may decide to buy some of those Kid Cuisine meals and watch Seinfeld in front of the TV just to feel really authentic.
Why have a 90s/2000s summer?
Because I’m tired of the constant connectivity. Everything we do now is somehow tied to our phones, and I want to break myself from it.
I’m an adult, have been for many years, but somehow still feel like I have a guardian in my pocket making sure I don’t get lost, don’t need help, never feel uncomfortable or bored…And I think it’s okay if I get lost, need help, or feel uncomfortable or bored. At least occasionally. We used to have big blocks of time where people just trusted we were alright out in the world, and we almost always were. Again, rose-colored glasses and all. I guess I miss the implied simplicity of the time. We didn’t have to live twice, once in real life and then again recreated for the internet.
So, how am I having a 90s/00s summer?
I’m focusing on analog media like physical books, DVDs and CDs.
I know it’s annoying to give up the convenience of the endless scroll of all the streaming services, but in the amount of time it takes to decide on something to watch, I could have watched an episode of whatever boxed series set I bought at the store. Which, by the way, if you’re worried about the expense, it’s actually cheaper than you think if you thrift. DVDs are $2.92 at my Goodwill, even cheaper if you buy them from a non-chain thrift store. Plus, scoring Ferngully on DVD for your kids to watch feels like such a win. Honestly, I’d buy VHSs if I had something to play them on. It would be worth it to show the girls how good they have it not having to physically rewind a tape.
I recently saw a post on by IG user @byooooob about how we are more likely to appreciate and care about something we own versus something we stream. When we stream something we are “renting” the feeling of ownership, but we don’t really care about it. To quote the post “No one teaches us how to love something that’s always available.”
I won’t write that poem for you, but that hit me pretty hard.
This also explains why we love the shows and movies we watched as a kid gathered under blankets on a lumpy couch watching the same VHS tapes in the glow of the flickering light of our small television.
I still have my heart in my throat every time Milo and Otis, the quintessential BFF duo, is in mortal peril, which is pretty much the entire movie. My girls were equally enraptured, especially during the live birth scene. So many questions after our first viewing, but it made for interesting supper conversation.
It’s a silly example, but I couldn’t wait for my girls to watch Milo and Otis when I found it at the thrift store because it was such a pillar of my own childhood. Plus, barring an accidental breakage of the physical DVD, it will be around long after Prime has quit streaming it. Streaming services come and go, but somehow that shiny disc will float around in a forgotten cabinet forever, just waiting to be rediscovered.
I’m treating my phone like a landline.
I used to have a telephone shaped like a piano. The buttons played an actual C scale with the numbers on the white keys, and the top of the piano lifted as the receiver. Before that, our house phone was clear with bright and fun innards, making it interesting just to look at. Society once offered us the opportunity to have variety and whimsy in our lives, and these phones were a prime example.
Remember when we had phones with cords that necessitated us to sit in one place and chat until our dad yelled at us to get off the phone because someone needed to use the internet? Remember actually CALLING people as a child? I used to call my mom at work to ask if I could have a popsicle out of the freezer. This was after I spoke to Mary Beth at the front desk and asked, “May I please speak to Lois Weeks?” in my squeakiest nine-year-old voice.
It truly is a different time now. I think the most my children have spoken on the phone is when their grandparents or their great-grandma called to wish them a happy birthday.
Being unreachable is so appealing to me. Maybe it’s the eldest daughter part of my brain that feels responsible for everyone and everything all the time (even though no one is actually asking that of me lol), but there was a time when the phone ringing automatically made my stomach hurt.
But back when we were kids, the phone could ring and the answering machine would catch it. Maybe our parents would check the machine, maybe they wouldn’t. Now, there’s no way to miss a notification because our phones are in our hands at all times.
The fact is, I should’ve been treating my phone like a landline a long time ago. There’s not a world where I need to carry my phone in my pocket while walking around my own home. Almost everyone that needs to communicate with me lives in my two bedroom house, and if they don’t live here, my phone has the ability to only allow certain calls through. The world isn’t waiting for me to solve a problem.
Plus, if it’s in my pocket there’s a distraction at every turn. One email turns into a downward scrolling spiral. (Are we sensing a theme here? I have no self-control.)
My goal is to leave my phone in one spot of the house instead of it hitching a ride in my pocket all day. I’ve seen people make a little phone “jail” where they keep it locked up during certain times of the day. I don’t think I’m at that level just yet, but I think sitting it on the piano and only picking it up when I actually need it is the sweet spot. And then discovering how little I actually need it versus when I use it as an adult pacifier.
I also bought an alarm clock from the thrift store because there is no need for me to spend my nights vegged out on my phone and then start my day the exact same way. I’ve been charging my phone just a few more feet away than usual, but it’s been enough of an inconvenience that I don’t reach for it first thing like I did before.
I’m using a digital, screen-free camera.
Since obviously our phones are our cameras now, I needed to figure out what to do about that. Some of the best photos from my youth were from a crappy disposable camera that I shoved in my purse and took photos with at school. Yes, some were absolutely impossible to decipher what I was attempting to take a photo of, but the ones that came out? Gold.
The disposable cameras, unfortunately, led to a lot of chopped off heads.
My 20th high school reunion was last month, and while I wasn’t able to attend, I did enjoy seeing all the pictures people sent in. Most of them were either scanned into a computer or were cell phone photos of a picture because the originals were hard copies. So, I found something that’s kind of the best of both worlds. CampSnap cameras are screenless digital cameras that were originally created for kids to take to camp because they were not allowed to have screens, and their parents were tired of paying for disposable cameras that had maybe 10 good photos on it.
Which I get.
I have no idea how much it costs to develop a roll of film these days, but as a compromise, I’m using a digital camera that has no screen. All the convenience of digital but the screenless option of a disposable with none of the waste.
It’s been so fun not knowing how the photos turn out until I look at them on my computer. It’s freeing to take a photo and not second guess every aspect of it before deciding to take forty-three more on my phone. In fact, if the photo turns out half decent, I am thrilled. The bar for satisfaction is much lower here. It also doesn’t lead to an accidental scroll sesh when I go to post the photo.
Here’s an example of one of the photos I took with it last month. Joy is living her best life on an Alabama beach.
Here’s an old school selfie from the same trip with my CampSnap camera. (Also, Jared’s Dr. Nefario glasses CRACK ME UP.)
This is not a sponsored post or anything, I don’t think CampSnap knows I exist, but I really have enjoyed using their camera, and the vintage vibes are perfect!
I am THRILLED to report that digital cameras are making a comeback with the youths. My cousin Cambryn, who I think is one of the coolest soon-to-be seniors around and has a killer arm in softball, had a shiny pink digital camera at the Fourth of July party we attended. Her and her friend were so dang cute taking photos with it, and it filled my heart with GLEE to think of the days when we would bring our cameras to school and snap our hearts out.
I’m trying new things.
Someone at my church brings little cubed fried potatoes to every gathering and the salty, onion-y, starch-y combination brings my little heart and stomach so much joy, I can’t deal. Yesterday, in spite of never making this particular type of potato, I decided to add it into our breakfast-for-supper routine. (Another childhood staple! Breakfast for supper!) The potatoes stuck to the bottom of the skillet and overall did not remain in their cubed form, but the mess was delicious and I learned what not to do for the next time. Every attempt at something new doesn’t have to be good. It just has to BE.
I’ve played guitar and sang most of my life, but I usually don’t take the time to figure out some of the songs I hear floating around my day. I decided to take Stella, the guitar Daddy technically gave Jubi but I occasionally commandeer, and figure one out. It hurt my brain in a new way, and I learned something.
I’ve always loved a good arts and crafts project, but lately I’ve been inspired by my cousin and a few friends that are really into air dry clay. I bought some around Christmas with the intention of making some ornaments, but it remained unopened in the antique ice box I use as a craft cabinet.
Basically I’m working on new recipes, attempting new songs on my guitar, and all in all I’m CHALLENGING MY BRAIN, which sadly is not as hard to do as it once was.
I’m not waiting for the perfect moment to invite people over and hang out.
Remember when you were a kid running loose in the neighborhood and just found friends also roaming wild and spent the afternoon at the creek or in the woods or playing in the street? It’s a little different now as an adult, a little harder to be spontaneous, but it’s fun to make last minute plans and see what happens.
My friend Sabrina usually hangs out with our friend Sam to do those clay projects I mentioned before, but I knew Sam was out of town. So I asked Sabrina if she’d like to come over and eat burgers with my family and craft together. She was free, I was free, and it all worked out. She came over and worked on a watercolor project for a baby shower gift, and I started a weird light switch cover with my air dry clay. Will I become a sculptor? No. But it was a fun experiment.
I will add that sometimes making last minute plans means no one is able to hang out, and that’s okay too. It’s hard to coordinate in the best of times, much less last minute, but I’d encourage you not to wait for the so-called perfect time to invite someone over, and don’t take it personally if they can’t make it. If you’re the one who’s been invited, consider mixing up your regular plans with something new. Above all, don’t take one unaccepted invite to mean no one wants to hang out with you.
There’s a couple of older women that I invited over several times because they were curious about my stock tank pool. The plans fell through a couple of times, but when they could come, they ended up staying and visiting for a while, and it was so nice and unexpected.
Host or guest, don’t let yourself avoid reaching out or accepting because you don’t want to inconvenience someone. Be willing to have fun!
I’m kicking my kids (and myself) outside, specifically to some body of water.
I loved water as a kid. I love water as an adult. I have two children who have inherited a love of sun and sand from me. One of them is a red-headed, blue-eyed kid who needs an incredible amount of sun coverage: hat, full-body bathing suit, and a deep slathering of sunscreen. Luckily for all of us, she’s only had one bad burn and that was enough for my lifetime. I’m convinced that I only wore sunscreen a handful of times in my childhood, but that’s one childhood experience we can probably let go to the wayside. (As a life hack, carry a makeup brush in your beach bag and smear the sunscreen on with it. So much easier than fighting your children who become MMA experts the instant the 50 SPF comes out.)
We pack our bags and a lunch and go to the lake every week. We’ve done this for the past three summers and it’s the highlight of the season. Sometimes Jared comes with us and brings the paddle board for extra fun. Most weeks we meet friends at a day-use area about 45 minutes from our house, and we all chit chat while occasionally hollering at our children to quit hanging off of the yellow floating barricades that separate the swimming area from the rest of the lake.
(Another life hack if you’re an elder millennial mom with youngish kids: make them carry their own stuff. Both daughters put their life jackets on and wear their own mesh beach backpack packed with a towel, toys, water bottle, and a lunchbox packed with their own food. If they can’t carry it, they can’t bring it. The backpack frees up their hands to carry whatever floatie thing they want, but one thing is for sure: I am not a pack mule for the children anymore, and I end up with significantly less sand in my snacks. I carry my backpack chair, I strap my fancy noodle and a big umbrella together with a yoga strap, and my bag goes over my shoulder. Voila! We’re beach ready!)
I get that the water isn’t for everyone. It can be stressful for sure. For me, I’d rather take a kid to the lake than a playground EVERY DAY OF THE WEEK for a myriad of reasons, one being that at least in the water, I can see them at all times. At the playground, there’s a potential pervert hiding in every slide, and God only knows what kind of disgusting paraphernalia is hiding in the mulch. But if the park is your go-to spot, go-to it as much as possible because being outside is a staple of reconnection to nature and to ourselves. Not to mention our childhoods.
On our lake days, we come home tired and a little weary from the sun, and then spend the rest of the afternoon watching TV and zoning out because we’re all too tired to do anything else.
When we can’t go to the lake, we stay home and splash in our stock tank pool that we recently put together. I’ve wanted one for years, and thanks to the providence of God and the kindness of a neighbor, we got one FOR FREE.
As a kid I spent hours at my aunt’s pool attempting handstands and having what my cousin and I called tea parties at the bottom of the deep end. (We jumped in and then tried to sit cross-legged on the bottom while pretending to drink tea.) When it was time to get out, my aunt Fay would give us each an ice-cold apple from the fridge and we’d eat it outside while we dried off. My little pool is a far cry from her big in-ground pool that my uncle Chris meticulously maintained while wearing the coolest cut-off jorts and gold chains, but it’s been fun for my girls to splash in!
Maybe they’ll tell their friends about the summer of 2025 and want to replicate it.
Before I go, I’d like to leave you with a caveat or two: I’m making certain exceptions because I am not contractually obligated to live like it’s a different time like the people on Frontier House (or Pioneer Quest, which was a similar show that I am equally obsessed with) I’m winging it! Life is meant for living, right?
For example: At night, I’ve been reading on my kindle because my oldest borrowed my booklight and it may be gone forever given how easily things are lost in her room.
I’m also making exceptions for music in the car because the Prius doesn’t play CDs, so adjust accordingly if you’re playing along with me. It’s a work in progress. No pressure for perfection, just walking out the process.
What was your favorite childhood activity? What fills your nostalgia bucket? What songs played in your Discman that you shoved deep into your back jeans pocket?
If you’re into 90s/2000s pop, here’s a playlist that I found that made me pretty happy! If you like 90s/2000s country, here’s another that took me back to the backseat of Mama and Daddy’s old Wagoneer.
Love, Tristan
P.S. My workshop still has a few seats left if you want to challenge your hands and your brain.