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I can’t remember the last time I was this excited to bathed and ready to fall into my newly made bed, alone. No one else in the room, not even my husband. Oh the sweet, luscious sleep I expect to get. I can’t wait to share this night with no one.

We made it home today. Well, the kids and I did. We woke up early, got the car packed and were driving north by 7:30am. We only stopped once for me to pee (holy shit did I need to pee–it was an EPIC pee) and despite a considerable traffic jam due to one lane of the two lane highway being closed (this was right when I REALLY needed to pee), we made it home in record time (six hours). I was very pleased. We seriously rocked it.

The afternoon ended up being unexpectedly hectic when I was informed that my daughter’s doctor neglected to sign the box that said my daughter didn’t need to be tested for TB and that without a signature in that specific spot (there were signature’s elsewhere on the page but apparently they were worth nothing) my daughter would not be able to attend her first day of Kindergarten on Monday. Luckily I was told this at 3:30 and the doctor’s office closed at 4:30 so I had an hour to get us home on the bike, transfer us back into the car (which still was not unpacked) and get us to the doctor’s office with ten minutes to spare. Thank god it didn’t matter which doctor signed the very important TB box because our doctor was not there that day. And even more luckily the school’s office will be open tomorrow during the back-to-school picnic so I don’t have to stand in some horrendous line on Monday so my daughter will be allowed into class on her first day of school.

Let’s just hope the secretary takes the stupid paper tomorrow like she assured me she would as long as there was A DOCTOR’S signature in that box.

{Side question: Am I the only one who would actually go to the doctor’s office and not just forge the signature at home? My mom thought I was crazy for going back to the doctor’s office; she thought I should have just copied the signature that was elsewhere on the page on that specific line. I was too worried the secretary wouldn recognize it was a bullshit signature and refuse to accept it and my poor daughter wouldn’t get to go to her first day of school. This coming from a girl who just started high school forging her mom’s signature so they wouldn’t have a real copy of it on file.}

By the time we got back from the doctor’s office with the golden signature it was almost time for me to leave for the after care orientation meeting. My parents were kind enough to come up and watch the kids for an hour so I wouldn’t have to bring them with me. I somehow managed to get dinner ready and both of them bathed in the half hour before they showed up. I made it to the meeting, took meticulous notes, asked a few questions, chatted with a few moms, came home, ate dinner, put my daughter to bed, worked out, showered (oh my god it had been sooooo many days since I’d showered and it felt soooooo good), changed my bedsheets, grabbed my computer and got into bed to write this post. All in all it was a productive day to end our week long trip (you’ll notice I stopped using the word vacation).

I’m happy to say that the second half of the trip was much better than the first. My son eventually felt better (though his hellacious cough lingers), I got to spend some evenings with friends instead of alone, on my phone, in a dark room while my kids slept. We had a great beach day in LA and got to see the Endeavor Space Shuttle at the California Science Museum (I was totally geeking out about that). In the end, I dare say, I was glad we went (though I still don’t plan to go again next year).

And now we have two days until my daughter starts Kindergarten. She also has her first loose tooth. She is growing up… and away.

Monday morning is going to be tough. Such a huge transition for both of us. I was realizing that it will be the first morning I’ve had to wake up early for my daughter’s obligation and not my own. I am technically still on summer break until Wednesday, but my daughter’s district starts Monday so we’ll be up at 6:15am to make sure we get there on time without anyone feeling stressed or rushed (her school has an early–7:50am–start time and my daughter is sloooooow to get moving in the morning). Evidently traffic is a shit show, especially the first week, so we’ll be taking the bike. I’m glad we have it as an option.

We don’t have much planned these last 48 hours of summer, and I’m glad for that. I would definitely not recommend being away for the week before your oldest kid starts school. Coming home to packets of papers to fill out–and having missed orientation–is not ideal. Plus the whole missing signature fiasco would have been a lot less stressful if I had a few days to figure it out. I have plenty to do in the next few days to get us both ready for her big day–and big week. I really hope she’s happy at her school.

And with that I’m going to sign off. I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.

Waivering

{I started writing this on Sunday morning, before I wrote my last post. My son still isn’t doing well–I think he has croup–but we haven’t decided to high tail it home yet. We currently have one night booked at a Motel 6 in LA and we’ll reassess tomorrow when we see how everyone feels. My guess is we’ll be heading home Wednesday morning instead of Friday. Anyway, this post is about a totally different topic, something else (besides my sick son) that has been keeping me up at night.}

I’m sitting in the car, typing this on my phone. My son is sleeping in his seat. It’s hours before his nap but he’s clearly not feeling well and I can hear him trying to breath through his congested nose (so sad sounding) so I’m letting him sleep even though it means he might not nap later on. Honestly I thought he’d be up by now. Maybe I should wake him up. But he might not nap later even if I wake him up now… Ah! I hate when I don’t know what to do, when I can’t see into the future so I need to make a choice based on what I know, and what past experience suggests might happen later. (Although that never seems to be what actually happens later, does it?) Man, sometimes it seems we spend the majority of this parenting gig making decisions based on incomplete information, hoping we’re doing what’s best for our children. 

Did I mention that I hate not knowing what to choose?

That, is actually, what this whole post is about. 

I’m stressing out about the diet stuff with my kids. I go back and forth, constantly wavering. My thinking goes something like this: I’ll do the no-additives diet, that is the least restrictive one, it will just require I plan better and spend more money. But how will I explain it to the grandparents? What if they think it’s a hoax? What if they don’t even try to follow it? What if they do but mess up? What if she eats other food at school? How can I even manage this, the supposedly simple one? Maybe I should do GFCF too? Maybe start it later? But that will be even harder. That will be impossible. And what about supplements. But they cost so much. All of this will cost so much.  But what if it makes the difference? But what if it doesn’t? 

It all costs so much, in time, in money, in inconvenience. I don’t want to be “that family,” the one who has to bring their own food to everything because their kids can’t eat what everyone else can. Already, traveling while trying to keep my son on goat’s milk has been frustrating. I’ve had to be “that mom,”–driving three times farther than the nearest grocery to get the weird stuff–and I don’t even know if it’s helping. 

I just don’t know what to do. I don’t know what the right choice is. My husband thinks the no-additives diet is dubious. Is it scientifically proven? Well, no, you can’t have double blind studies that determine the efficacy of these kinds of diets. Obviously the parents that are feeding their kids certain foods know which group they are in, and there is no way to ensure that the elimination diet group actually eliminates the restricted foods. It’s really hard to test in the way other things are tested. 

The no-additives diet (and the GFCF diet) are not specifically associated with SPD, but there has been (anecdotal–as far as “science” is concerned) evidence that the no-additives diet benefits some kids with behavioral issues and the GFCF diet helps some kids with autism (which is closely associated with SPD) and ADHD (which is also closely associated with SPD because the diagnosis criteria is almost identical in some cases (like my daughter’s).

Some kids. Closely associated. The reasoning seems so tenuous. If my daughter were “more” of what is concerning–if her behavior issues were more disruptive or her (suspected, though it may be her SPD, or a combination of both) ADHD were more debilitating, I think I would know what to do. As it is, I’m not sure. Things have been a bit better since we started the daily dose of Claritin. Maybe I should wait until school starts and see how things go. 

I just don’t know what to do, and I HATE not knowing what to do. I hate not knowing what course to take. Maybe it will help. Maybe it won’t. Maybe I won’t recognize either way (this is probably what I’m most afraid of). All I know is we, as a family, are not happy. We want something to change, and I don’t know how else to make that change (maybe) happen. 

So many maybes. So many tenuous connections. So little support. I just sit awake at night, unsure what to do. I read articles and books–in the end all anecdotal evidence, promises of what might happen, but assurances of nothing–and I build my house of cards. If I choose to go down the road of pseudo-recognized elimination diets, how will I keep such a flimsy structure standing when the winds of ignorance, derision, and criticism blow so forefully. Do I want to live in that precariously built house of cards? Constantly rebuilding what is broken?Can I manage being that family?

Why does all of this have to be so hard? I just wish someone would tell me what to do. 

How do you make hard decisions with no clear, assured outcomes? 

Two Thoughts

We’re three days into our vacation. 

There are two thoughts that circle, like vultures. “I’m so glad we didn’t attempt this last year.” “We’re definitely not coming again next year.” 

We’ve shortened our reservation in LA. I expect we’ll be home by Thursday. 

It doesn’t help that my son is really sick, but that isn’t even the issue. 

I used to be a really enthusiastic person. I got excited for things. I looked forward to them. It was one of the best parts of myself. 

Since having kids I’ve stopped looking forward to things. I’ve stopped getting excited. It’s for the best, because it means I don’t get disappointed anymore. No more high highs and no more low lows. Just a real steady apathy about most things. 

I forget why we came here. Probably because we (let’s face it, *I*) felt left behind, watching everyone go places on FB, feeing like we were the only ones staying at home. It always seems like a good idea when you’re planning it. Sun, sand, swimming: things we can’t get at home. But what we have to sacrifice for those things–security, schedule, our sanity–it’s a wash in the end. It’s not really being worth the time and money it costs to go, not when you factor in the stress involved.

One week until school starts. These are our last days of summer. 

What the Bike has Taught Me

I’ve been wanting to write about the bike, about what I love (and don’t love) about it. I’ve wanted to write about how much I’m using it and whether I think I’ll use it in the future. I’ve wanted to create a list of the pros and cons of getting around this way. I’ve wanted to outline the (endless) dialogue in my head about whether or not a cargo bike is a sound investment for our family. There is so much I’ve wanted to say about the bike, but in the end, other posts always hijack my interest and I write about those.

And that is exactly what is happening today. Well, almost.

You see one thing I’ve wanted to write about the bike is what riding it (with one kid up front and one behind) has taught me.

The first thing it taught me is that I’m capable and strong. I can haul those two kids–all 70+ lbs of them, along with their heavy ass seats–up some pretty unforgiving hills. I can push my legs until they burn like fire and then I can push them some more. I can maintain forward momentum even when my heart feels like it’s going to burst out of my chest and my lungs are screaming for air.

I am capable and I am strong. I can do almost anything. Almost.

The second thing I learned is there are some hills I just can’t climb, not with 70+lbs of kid weighing me down. I learned this the hard way, when I chose to avoid a longer, more gradual incline by attempting a shorter hill with a sharper grade. Even when switchbacking across the road I couldn’t maintain the required momentum. This was the first time I tipped the bike with the kids on it.

{Spoiler alert, we were a little shaken, but fine.}

I have always been the kind of person who prefers the shorter, harder ascent to the more gradual and forgiving, but ultimately longer route. If I’m hauling stuff I’ll take three things that I can barely carry to save myself a second trip. If I can hike up the steep, shorter hill to avoid the longer way around, I’ll do it. I’ve never been a slow and steady wins the race kind of girl. I’ve always wanted to get there, and get there fast.

It was a rude awakening, that day on the bike, when I realized I couldn’t do it. I was furious with myself for making such a stupid mistake and putting my kids at risk. It was a hard lesson to learn, but I learned it. I have never attempted a steep grade again; I’m learning the round-about ways I need to get somewhere so I can avoid the hills I can’t climb.

Ultimately I was kind of glad I tipped the bike. I had been so terrified of it happening, to know it wasn’t actually that bad was a relief. I’ve tipped it once more since then (I’m really not sure why it happened the second time) and it was even less upsetting than the first. You can actually get better at tipping a bike with two kids on it. You can get up and you can keep riding–that was the third thing I learned.

I’m doing a lot of research about sensory processing disorder and how diet can affect kids with behavior difficulties. There are changes I want to make, but they feel overwhelming, especially when I consider doing them all at once. But then I remember, I probably couldn’t tackle them all simultaneously. I probably would fail in my attempt, spectacularly.

Of course, I don’t need to attempt the shorter, steeper hill, I can opt for the longer, more gradual incline. It may take a whole lot longer, but I’ll get there in the end. That’s really all that matters.

So I’m starting slow, reading books and articles, taking notes, brainstorming solutions, considering possibilities, evolving a plan. All the while the bike reminds me: I’m capable and strong; there is a longer, slower, safer way; and I can always get back up again if I fall.

Do you like to take the shorter, harder route? Or do you prefer the longer, more forgiving option?

Worth It, Reasonable and The Whole Picture

I wrote before about how many past purchases have been made with the hope or expectation that an item could Make It Better. I have bought many a thing because I believed it could solve a problem or improve a challenging situation. Making It Better is probably one of my biggest spending motivations.

But it’s not the only one. I have bought a lot of things in my life because they felt Worth It, as in the product provided me with enough of something good (ease, pleasure, convenience) to validate how much I spent on it. Sure I might not need a new {insert shiny specimen here} but I sure would use it a lot, and frankly that was all that mattered.

I also bought a lot of shit because I wanted it, and the price seemed Reasonable. Hey, I would wear a new pair of shoes if I owned them and at 50% off that price sure is Reasonable. Why not buy the shoes when I’m clearly getting a good deal?

I bought a LOT of shit in my life because it would be Worth It or Reasonable. For almost my entire life I’ve judged the merit of a purchase on whether or not I used the item enough to justify how much I spent. If I used something regularly, even if I didn’t need it, it was absolutely worth what I paid for it. Necessity was never a part of the equation. (If that isn’t a symptom of financial privilege, I don’t know what is.)

Lately I’ve been asking myself (and all of you) all sorts of questions about whether or not I should be spending money on something. I’m realizing that Worth It and Reasonable are not applicable anymore. I need a new measure.

Nicoleandmaggie had an insightful comment on my last post, which echoed the sentiments of a comment they left on Ana’s post last week (and was expanded upon in a post put up yesterday). In the end, the answer to the question, Should I spend? is never justified (at least not absolutely) by whether or not something can be deemed “worth it” or “reasonable” or “deserved,” (another qualifier that has green-lit spending for me in the past); in the end all that matters (at least initially) is whether you can afford it. Taking into account all your financial obligations–past, present, and future–can you buy that thing without borrowing from someone else (or your future self)? If the answer is no, then it doesn’t matter if it’s Worth It or Reasonable or Deserved. What matters is The Whole Picture.

It’s amazing how long it took for this to sink into my thick, spendy skull. I would like to say it’s because my spending freeze was not anchored in a working budget, but I tried to follow a budget for months earlier this year and I still didn’t figure this out. It quite literally took me half of 2015 to connect these dots, to put these pieces together (and I only managed it because others kept showing it to me, over and over again).

{Another reason I think it took me so long to figure this out is because I was raised believing that I’d always have enough, that I didn’t have to take The Whole Picture into account because The Whole Picture was just fine, thankyouverymuch, so I skipped that part and went straight to my metrics of Worth It and Reasonable. Yet another unabashed example of my financial privilege.}

When I said I wasn’t sure how to handle purchases that I believe would be therapeutically beneficial for my daughter, I was trying to apply my old standards of Worth It and Reasonable to the spending freeze, a situation that stripped them of their faculty. I was trying to apply them to a situation in which they quite literally no longer applied. In the end it doesn’t matter how Worth It or Reasonable an item may be, in the end, all that matters is if we can afford it.

Perhaps it makes sense that I didn’t see this, given that my spending freeze has not involved a specific budget of any kind. The spending freeze was, in fact, a pre-budgetary exercise which was supposed to help me create a  budget I could confidently follow. Maybe if I had a budget in place I would have figured it all sooner. In the absence of a budget I floundered, throwing around Reasonable And Worth It in contexts where they absolutely didn’t apply.

Now I (finally!) understand what I need to do. I (finally!) understand that I need to look at The Whole Picture. I (finally!) understand that only in the context of “what we have,” can I answer the question “Can we buy it?”

This is a big step, having this understanding. Unfortunately I’m still a few months away from really knowing Where We Are financially so that I can answer Can we buy it? And double unfortunately, my husband has to take some important and time consuming steps before I can paint an informed picture of Where We Are. But that’s okay. In the meantime, I finally understand that I can’t answer the question of Can we buy it? So if it’s a significant enough question, then the answer is unequivocally, No, we Can’t, until I have The Whole Picture, and can be sure.

It’s amazing how much clarity this brings me, as I throw out my old metrics and start applying (or preparing to) the new. I am now more motivated than ever to create a budget that BOTH my husband and I can follow, so that we can responsibly determine what kind of life is available to us right now, in this city, under our current circumstances. Now if only I can get my husband to actually start using the joint accounts we opened, I’ll be set.

What metrics help you determine if you can buy something? Have you even fallen back on Worth It or Reasonable?

Restriction vs. Intention

It can feel sometimes (okay, A LOT of the time) like pretty much everything in my life is restricted. We’re in the worst drought in California history, so we’re restricting our water usage (I take this very seriously and it has absolutely changed the way we do everything that requires water). I’m restriction my spending. I’m restriction my calorie consuption. I’m restricting how much we own (or trying to). And as a mother, my time feels constantly restricted by the day-to-day needs of my family. Pretty much every aspect of my life right now feels restricted.

It can really get me down.

But I’m trying not to let it. I’m trying to reframe it from restriction (which feels, well, restrictive) to intention (which feels, well, intentional). Restriction is about what I can’t do. Intention is about what I’m trying to do.

It helps that all these intentions are working in concert. Making more intentional choices about the food I buy helps me save money and eat fewer calories. Making more intentional decisions about purchases helps me keep new things out of our house. They are all tied together. Each intention supports the next, infusing my life with… intention.

Intention is a good thing. Intention is a wonderful thing. So many of my choices were driven by habit or distraction, it feels good to make choices with purpose.

And it’s starting to get easier. Especially when I’m able to see these choices not as self-imposed restrictions, but as personally important intendments. That is when I feel good about not getting the pretzel at the zoo (I’ve been going to the zoo a lot lately), instead of feeling like I’m missing out. Now if I can keep feeling like all these little choices are intentional, and not restrictive, I just might make it out of this spending freeze without losing my mind.

Is there anything in your life that feel “restrictive” right now? Could it be reframed as “intentional”?

Summer Budget Project Week 7 (and an announcement)

This week’s total was torpedo bombed by a massive swimming lesson purchase. This Tuesday we will use the last of the ten swimming lessons I purchased for my daughter a couple of months ago. We definitely want to keep taking her; she needs to be safe in the water and she is making big gains at this place. The pool we’re taking her uses a system where you buy a package of lessons and then schedule them. Last time I bought the ten lesson set; this time I bought the fifteen lesson set, because it makes each lesson a little cheaper, AND (more importantly) allows us a 4-hour cancellation window with no penalty (the ten pack had a 48-hour cancellation window). I think once school starts we’re going to benefit from that 4-hour no-fee cancellation policy, and I know we’ll need at least 15 more lessons for her to be water safe (or feel comfortable enough in the water for us to explore other lesson options).

If it weren’t for that massive charge, this week would have been…meg. Not good by any stretch, but not the worst I’ve done.

I took my mom out to brunch this week. I never got her a Mother’s Day present (she takes that stuff pretty seriously) and she just watched our kids for four days while we enjoyed our staycation. She wanted to pick up the bill but I felt I should. I was curious what you all thought about that. Having my mom pay would help my bottom line, but it seems like the least I can do when I never got her anything (not even a card) for Mother’s Day and she just watched my kids for so long. What are your thoughts? Should I have let her pay, or was treating her the right move?

I ended up retuning the swim assister and some of the safety stuff to Babies R Us. I decided the swim assister wasn’t something we needed to own; I’m hoping I can borrow one from somebody for our week down south. The safety stuff I returned also didn’t seem necessary in the end. We can watch our son more carefully and avoid spending some cash. I exchanged them for a big box of disposable diapers for our trip. I do not travel with cloth diapers, it’s just too big of a pain. I also got a box of Toddler Mum Mums because my son is ADDICTED. Seriously, it’s toddler crack. The difference was almost $10.

I also returned two of the uniform shirts from Old Navy after I found two long sleeve shirts I forgot I bought. I also took back three of the white leggings and found they were having an even better sale so I exchanged them for some other leggings that were cheaper. I also got my son some socks (my parents suggested I try to only use white socks with him because maybe the dye in his colored socks is aggravating his eczema–evidently my mom was told not to wear colored socks when she had some skin irritation issues on her feet. Has anyone heard of this before?!)

And now is when I tell you all that I’ve decided to extend my spending freeze (with some contingencies) until the end of the calendar year. I clearly have a lot more to learn on the budgeting front and I just don’t think I can make the necessary changes without specific restrictions in place. Even with them, I’m going to have to do some things very, very differently.

Much of the spending freeze will remain in place, especially as it relates to things for me. I will continue to abstain from purchasing clothes, shoes, books or other non-consumables for myself. I have plenty of clothes (if I can lose a little of this weight), plenty of shoes and more books than I could ever read. I can look at what I have and know that I don’t need anything more for myself (at least not in the next six months).

Where it gets tricky is with my kids, especially my daughter. She is a growing girl who needs new things every once in a while. I have already purchased her enough uniform pieces (all big enough for her to grow into), but she recently had a growth spurt and suddenly all her “weekend clothes” don’t fit. It’s hard to know how many “weekend clothes” to get her, because most of the time she only needs two days’ worth. But when there is a break in school, it’s hard because she doesn’t have much to wear. Right now she prefers fancy princess nightgowns and we let her wear those all weekend long. Sometimes, though, they aren’t appropriate and we need some pants and a shirt for her. I was thinking maybe 2-3 pairs of pants and 2-3 tops for her “weekend wardrobe” at any given time. So if she has that many she can wear, no more, but if we have to retire something and she falls below that limit, we’ll replace what she grew out of. Same goes for outwear: 1 heavier jacket and 2-3 sweatshirt/sweater type-pieces seems reasonable (you have to at least carry long sleeves with you all year around in SF).

Luckily we have been given tons of hand-me-downs for my son, so he doesn’t need much in the way of clothes or even shoes. When he starts at the daycare/preschool he’ll need 5 pairs of khaki pants (we already have the tops from when his sister went there) which I’ll need to get. I like him to always have two pairs of shoes that fit at a given moment (same for my daughter), plus a pair of rain boots and a raincoat (oh please let this El Nino be everything they promise it will be). That is really all they need. I think once I have a set amount of articles for my kids, I can restrict my spending to only replace what they need as those articles become too small.

There is also the matter of my son’s birthday in October. And the cargo bike I’m still determining if we want to invest in (more on this soon). Of course Christmas is also a potential wrench, but I want to figure those things out as they happen. I’m hoping I’ll know what to do when the time comes.

{I’m also unsure of purchases that I believe to be therapeutic for my daughter. Most on this later.}

What I still need to figure out is food/eating out and how I’m going to incorporate my husband’s spending into the budget. That requires more thought and will be tackled in a future post. For now, I know the spending freeze will continue until 2016, as will my weekly itemized purchases posts. Sometimes I feel terrified but mostly I’m excited. I have lots to learn about delaying gratification and patience, and I hope to teach my kids a fair amount about it as well.

WEEK 7
7/26/2015 Gift for birthday party (American Express Gift Card) $10.81
7/26/2015 Cat litter box scooper (ours broke) $4.68
7/26/2015 Laundry detergent (for stripping diapers), eczema lotion $26.57
7/27/2015 Gas $50.01
7/27/2015 Costco (groceries, kids claritin, CeraVe lotion for son) $135.33
7/27/2015 TJ’s (groceries) $94.99
7/28/2015 Brunch with mom (Belated Mother’s Day gift) $39.00
7/28/2015 15 swim lessons $539.00
7/29/2015 Overnight diapers (subscription from Amazon) $25.83
7/29/2015 Life insurance premium $115.65
7/30/2015 Safeway (Groceries) $57.94
7/30/2015 1 Round of drink with a friend $14.00
7/31/2015 Lunch at my favorite sopes place (w/ tip) $8.00
7/31/2015 Safeway (Groceries — few things I forgot) $22.73
7/31/2015 Old Navy (return/exchange) -$10.11
7/31/2015 Babies R Us (return/exchange–big pack of diapers for trip) $9.82
$1,133.44

Money Waste Rage

I’ve never handled the loss of money (either in the form of actual money or the stuff money buys) very well. I am someone who loses things and I take it very hard when I throw cash away with items I’ve misplaced. If I had a dollar for every minute I’ve spent looking for things in my life, I’d be a wealthy, wealthy woman. If I had a dollar for every minute I’ve berated myself for losing something, I’d be the richest person on earth.

I’ve noticed that tracking my spending has exacerbated this issue. Where once wasting money made me angry, now it sends me into a blind rage, which eventually settles into a despondent disappointment.

It’s not just since the spending freeze either. At the beginning of the year, when I was tracking my spending with YNAB, and trying to stay within a set budget, I got a ticket on the bus for forgetting to swipe my card and then the next month I got a parking ticket because I didn’t realize the block parallel to ours had two-hour parking without a permit (our street, and the ones that run perpendicular have no permits or restrictions). Both of those losses sent me into angry, despondent spirals for days. I was so frustrated that I had to make room in my budget for significant expenses (the bus ticket was $109!) that were totally preventably made me rage. It took a long time for me to forgive myself. I was miserable.

Last night I conceded to a pizza because they are so cheap and we basically get six $4 meals from one, and plus we hadn’t gotten one in over a month and mostly because I really wanted some bacon pizza.

And then my husband didn’t put the leftovers away (it was agreed that he would do it) and so not only did we not get to have left over pizza for breakfast this morning (a tragedy in and of itself) but we had to throw away $14 worth of pizza. I realized this right after I noticed that the goat’s milk I asked my husband to get expired the day be bought it, and was all chunky when I opened it just two days after that.

To say I was frustrated was an understatement.

He felt terrible and I reigned in my upset, but it’s hard when I’m counting every penny to just nonchalantly blow off the throwing away of $18 in pizza and milk. I just abstained from enjoying a meal with a friend to save that kind of money, and three days later we’re dumping it down the drain.

I’m not sure quite how to strike a healthy balance with this. I don’t want to be someone who lingers over losses she can’t recoup, and yet I want to be upset enough that I take the necessary steps to ensure it won’t be repeated.

Blerg. So much to learn with this money stuff. So many emotions wrapped up in it all.

How do you feel when you loss something or get a ticket or lose money in preventable way?

ZOMG THE OVERWHELMZ

I’m at work today.

In my classroom. Doing things.

Or trying to.

ZOMG THE OVERWHELMZ.

Nobody was in the office but I was able to peek through the glass window of the principal’s office and see my schedule. Good news/bad news. Luckily all my classes are clumped together, so I don’t have to change gears in the middle of the day and then change back. Unfortunately I have three Spanish 6 classes and one Spanish 7/8 class, instead of two and two like I expected. I don’t like having three Spanish 6 classes–doing the same thing three times one day and then again three times the next day (I have my 6th graders on an A/B day schedule) leaves me wanting to bash my head in by the sixth time. It’s so hard to keep up my enthusiasm for those last two classes of the second day. Plus, 7/8 Spanish is just way more interesting. Blerg. I thought for sure we had enough 7th and 8th graders to warrant two periods of that class.

ELD is my first class of the day. That will be…interesting.

I know I can’t complain because they are giving me 1st period prep so I can take my daughter to Kindergarten. This makes life for my family infinitely easier. Of course it makes life for me at work a great deal harder. But that’s me, taking one for the team… again.

After I checked out the new staff room (it’s much nicer than I expected–a pleasant surprise), I meandered over to my classroom. They washed the carpets and there is a lingering not-yet-dried-when-they-shut-the-windows stank, but a couple of open windows is helping air it out.  There are boxes everywhere from the storage room (that was recently made into our new staff room–see above) and I have NO IDEA what I’m going to do with them as there is no space in my small modular classroom to store them, but I’ll deal with that in the next few weeks. (Side note: If anyone knows of a good way to get used text books (in GREAT condition) to a school that needs/wants them, PLEASE let me know. I don’t use textbooks but the teacher right before me bought two class sets and I’d love to find them a new home.)

After a good twenty minutes of stressing about the boxes, I all but forced myself to do something productive. I was really proud of myself for choosing a task, pulling resources and getting to work. Then I had to print the Common Core Standards for Reading and Writing and I promptly opened up my computer, typed in my blog’s url and started writing this post instead.

Oh well, I tried.

And with that I’m going to stop. Just writing for a while has cleared the cobwebs and reminded me that I CAN DO THIS. It’s difficult, but it’s manageable. Getting started is the hardest part.

Thank you all for your thoughts of my last post. Such interesting discussions in the comments! I definitely have LOTS to say as I process all your words. I’m sure you’ll hear more from me on the subject next week. And of course my Spending Post will be up shortly.

How do you help yourself get started when a task seems daunting? How do you combat feelings of ZOMG THE OVERWHELMZ!?

 

Same as it ever was

I’m reading more and more frugal living and financial independence and personal finance blogs and I am so impressed with the choices people are making and how much they are saving. I think, maybe if I make those same choices, I could save that much too.

Then I realize they have smaller mortgages (either because they live in areas with lower COL or because they have a smaller house) and bigger salaries and some of them even have bonuses.

I can’t even fathom getting a bonus. I just got paid an extra $174 for moving my classroom last summer. I have a feeling that is not what they are talking about when they mention bonuses.

I think about how hard I’m trying to change the way I spend money–I finally think it may actually be happening, that shift in mindset–but then I realize that all these changes add up to a pretty small amount. It may not be insignificant, but it feels close.

It just doesn’t feel like we’re ever going to be where we want to be. Saving $45,000 for our emergency fund? It could take a decade! And then what? We’ll be in our mid-thirties, our daughter will be about to start college, our son won’t be far behind.

And what about the things we want to do? Can we just never do them? When it takes so long for us to save, projects like resurfacing our kitchen cabinets or installing new pipes (which our plumber says will need to happen some day) seem impossible. We’d have to borrow against the equity of our house, which is the ultimate no-no for the financially responsible.

I think I’m just feeling overwhelmed, realizing that even with the big cuts (no vacations, no private schools in a city with shitty public schools, no moving into our downstairs unit) and the smaller cuts (no frivolous spending, no nice things, limited eating out) we’ll still be making very small gains. I get that we chose these jobs, and we chose this city (well my husband chose it), but I don’t think we realized what we were getting ourselves into. I don’t think we understood how impossible it would be to get ahead. No one told us, because everyone lives this way. We were prepared to live this way. But now I’m not so sure I want to. And I know my husband would never, ever want to go.

I’m not saying it’s not worth it, because these changes have to happen. They have to happen for us to simply survive, but I don’t think they’ll be helping us achieve the kind of financial security we ultimately want. I don’t think we’ll ever have that.

I read these blogs and they throw around numbers that boggle my mind. Amounts are saved each year that are bigger than my salary (before taxes!). Sometimes MUCH bigger! These people, they are making double, sometimes triple what we make, and they live in places where the cost of living is less than here. What is the point in reading those blogs? When they suggest we have one person’s ENTIRE salary deposited into savings so we won’t be tempted to spend it… We need my salary to live! Can these people really teach me anything, when I’m in such a totally different league?

Sometimes I read these blogs and I walk away inspired. I see people making choices I never considered were possible and I stretch my preconceptions wondering if I could make them too. And sometimes I walk away feeling like I’ve already lost before I’ve even begun, like it will never be enough, that we’ll always be wanting.

For the first time since I bought my house I’m wondering if we’re making a mistake trying to live in this city. What if I decide I don’t think it’s worth it anymore, and my husband doesn’t agree? What if all this soul-searching around money drives a intractable wedge between us? What if we can’t figure out a solution that works for both of us? Already he fights back on almost every money-saving change I suggest. We just seem to be on completely different pages about this stuff.

And how can I blame him? I was right where he was only a year ago. I can’t believe I was so blind to our financial reality for so long? How could I not have seen?

I know I’m all over the place with this post, I’m just feeling a little hopeless about our financial prospects. We’re never going to make much more than we make now–we’re certainly never going to get bonuses–which means our financial future is now. This is it. And if we can’t even put $5,000 a year away, it’s going to be hard to get ahead. These people I read are chasing financial independence… I don’t think we can achieve financial security.

And you may ask yourself
What is that beautiful house?
And you may ask yourself
Where does that highway go?
And you may ask yourself
Am I right?…Am I wrong?
And you may tell yourself
MY GOD!…WHAT HAVE I DONE?

(Talking Heads, Once in a Lifetime)

How do you feel about your family’s finances? Are you and your partner on the same page?