You know what's funny? Before my divorce, I thought having hobbies meant buying stuff. Lots of stuff. Scrapbooking supplies that took over the dining room table, exercise equipment that became expensive coat hangers, craft kits I'd use once then shove in a closet. I mean, I genuinely believed that more equipment meant more fun, more creativity, more… everything. Wrong.
Three years ago when I was trying to fit our entire life into 900 square feet, I had this moment staring at boxes of hobby supplies I hadn't touched in months. Emma was complaining there wasn't room for her art table, Lucas couldn't find his favorite book, and I was having a minor breakdown over a hot glue gun I'd used exactly twice. That's when it hit me – maybe the problem wasn't lack of space, maybe it was too much stuff pretending to bring me joy.
I started with my own things first. Goodbye, fancy watercolor set that intimidated me too much to actually use. See ya, yoga props that made me feel like I needed a engineering degree just to do downward dog. The sewing machine that required three different manuals? Gone. What I kept were the things that actually made me happy without making me feel inadequate or overwhelmed.
Drawing became my first real minimalist hobby, and honestly it happened by accident. I was helping Emma with homework one evening and grabbed her colored pencils to sketch while she worked. Just doodling really, nothing fancy. But you know what? It felt… peaceful. No pressure to create something Pinterest-worthy, no expensive supplies to justify, just moving a pencil across paper while my brain finally stopped spinning.
Now I sketch maybe three times a week, usually after the kids go to bed. Just me, a regular pencil, and whatever paper's handy – sometimes it's Emma's leftover notebook pages. I draw our small apartment, the view from our window, my coffee mug. Sounds boring, right? But it's not. It's actually meditative in a way all those complicated hobbies never were. When I'm sketching, I'm not thinking about bills or work or whether Lucas needs new shoes. I'm just… present.
The kids noticed pretty quickly that I was calmer in the evenings. Emma asked if she could draw with me sometimes, which led to some of our best conversations. We'll sit at the kitchen table with pencils and random paper, drawing whatever catches our attention. She's actually gotten pretty good at it, way better than me if I'm being honest. These drawing sessions have become this unexpected bonding time that never happened when I was stressed about maintaining expensive hobbies I rarely enjoyed.
Gardening was another accidental discovery, though calling what I do "gardening" might be generous. We've got a tiny balcony, barely big enough for two folding chairs, but I started growing herbs in old yogurt containers because buying fresh basil was killing my grocery budget. Turns out, watching things grow is pretty amazing, especially when you're not trying to create some elaborate garden design you saw on Instagram.
Lucas loves helping water the plants, and Emma gets excited when we can actually cook with herbs we grew ourselves. It's simple stuff – basil, mint, a tomato plant that's somehow still alive despite my questionable plant parenting skills. But there's something really satisfying about caring for these little living things without any pressure to create something magazine-worthy. Plus, our grocery bill went down a little, which… every bit helps as a single parent.
The thing about simple hobbies is they fit into real life way better than complicated ones. I don't need to set aside three hours and clear a huge workspace to sketch for twenty minutes. I don't need perfect conditions or expensive tools or even much skill, really. When Emma has a friend over and they're being loud, I can sit in my bedroom and draw. When Lucas is at his dad's for the weekend and the apartment feels too quiet, I can tend to my tiny balcony garden.
I tried getting the kids involved in more minimalist activities too, partly because they were getting bored without rooms full of toys to entertain them. Origami was a hit with Emma – all you need is paper, which we always have around anyway. She's made probably a hundred paper cranes at this point. We hang them from her ceiling fan, give them to neighbors, use them as bookmarks. Lucas prefers building things with whatever's around – cardboard boxes, empty containers, nothing fancy but his imagination runs wild.
Walking became our family hobby, which sounds super boring but it's actually been great. Denver has tons of trails, most of them free, and it gets us all out of our small apartment regularly. No equipment needed except decent shoes, which the kids need anyway. We've explored parts of the city I'd never seen before, found playgrounds I didn't know existed, had conversations that never would've happened if we were all staring at screens at home.
These walks have become our Sunday tradition now. Nothing elaborate, usually just an hour or two exploring somewhere new. Emma brings her sketchbook sometimes, Lucas collects rocks that somehow all look identical to me but are apparently each unique and precious. I just enjoy watching them discover things, being outside, moving our bodies without it feeling like formal exercise with rules and goals.
Photography started happening naturally during our walks. Not with any fancy camera – just my phone, documenting little moments. Lucas finding a cool stick, Emma concentrating on her sketch, the view from whatever trail we're exploring that day. I'm not trying to become a professional photographer or even a particularly good one. I'm just capturing moments that make me happy, things I want to remember about this phase of our lives.
Looking back through these photos months later, I'm always surprised by how much joy I can see in simple moments. Emma laughing at something ridiculous Lucas said, both kids dirty and tired but happy after a long walk, our tiny balcony garden in different seasons. These aren't professional-quality photos, but they're real life, our life, and that makes them pretty valuable to me.
What I love most about these simple hobbies is how they've actually brought us closer together instead of pulling me away from my kids like my old hobbies did. When I was stressed about expensive craft projects or feeling guilty about unused equipment, I was distracted, irritated, not really present. Now when I'm sketching or watering plants or looking at photos from our latest walk, I'm calm. Available. Actually enjoying these small moments instead of rushing toward some next thing.
The kids have picked up on this too. They're more interested in creating things than acquiring things now, more excited about experiences than possessions. Emma will spend an hour drawing instead of asking for new art supplies. Lucas builds elaborate worlds with cardboard and tape instead of wanting expensive toy sets. They've learned that being bored is okay, that simple activities can be deeply satisfying, that you don't need much to have fun.
My ex still doesn't really get it when he picks up the kids and they're excited about origami or want to show him photos from our latest hike. He's the type who shows love by buying things, solving problems by spending money. But the kids light up talking about our simple adventures in ways they never did about expensive toys or activities. They're learning that contentment comes from within, that creativity doesn't require perfect supplies, that some of life's best moments are absolutely free.
These days our evenings are peaceful instead of chaotic. No pressure to use expensive equipment or justify purchases or create something worthy of social media. Just simple activities that actually fit our life, our space, our budget. Drawing, growing things, exploring our city on foot, capturing moments that matter. It's not complicated, it's not impressive, but it works for us right now, and honestly? That's enough.
Theresa’s a single mom in Denver who turned chaos into calm through minimalism. She writes candidly about raising kids with less stuff and more sanity—proof that simple living isn’t just possible, it’s necessary
