Identity/Parenting & Family

Perspective

Posted on by noemikjames / 10 Comments

I’ve been struggling to force my thoughts into neat little lines, and the final middle class post remains unwritten. I think it’s okay though. I think we could all use the break. I hope to have it up early next week.

My son is a two year old these day, through and through. He’s all scowls and stomping feet, demands and tantrums. But the storm clouds never linger long and his face quickly softens as the sun comes out again.

His behavior puts a lot of things into perspective, and I recognize again how isolating having a “strong willed” child has been. Every day I am so thankful to have my son, whose behavior validates every suspicion I had that things with his sister were harder than they should have been.

All those times, standing next to another mother as we commiserated about the yelling and the wailing and the melt downs, always sensing that the behaviors she was referencing did not compare to the ones I had in mind. Understanding that we were using the same words but speaking different languages.

My son’s melt downs are dramatic affairs. He screams. He cries. He throws toys. He hits. He stomps his feet and turns away. He arches his back and thrashes his arms and legs. He makes a total spectacle of himself.

And then, five to ten minutes later, he lets me wrap him in my arms for a hug and a snuggle. There is no straightjacket hold to keep him safe. There is no crossing of arms and holding of hands. There is no head butting, or kicking or biting. There is no breaking of the skin. There is no twenty minutes or two hours. There is no foul mood that lasts days and days. There isn’t any of that. Sure he’s stubborn and impatient and obstinate and frustrating, but his meltdowns are predictable and appropriate. And they don’t scare me.

I so appreciate the opportunity to parent a more typical child, to have this perspective. It validates so many things I wanted to feel before, but wasn’t sure I truly had the right to. I spent so much of the first years of motherhood wondering why it was so fucking hard, why I struggled so much, why it always felt like I was failing. I get it now, and it feels like I finally have permission to feel the hard feelings I’ve been denying myself for so long, pushing them down and pretending they weren’t there.

But now I know. It was, and many times still is, that hard. And it was, and still is, okay to feel the things I feel. I can’t tell you what a weight has been lifted with that simple validation, a precious gift that only I could give myself.

 

Financial Security/Identity

Rethinking The Middle Class, Part 2: The Explanation

Posted on by noemikjames / 24 Comments

There are a lot of articles out there with some variation on the title “Are you considered middle class?” I suppose that is not surprising. The middle class is a hot topic these days, as everyone wants to save it from shrinking out of existence, and maybe provide it some tax breaks while they’re at it. What is surprising, is that not one of the articles posing that question seems to be able to answer it. Which got me wondering:

Why is it so hard to define the middle class? And why is it that most people believe they are middle class no matter how much, or how little, they make? One fascinating article in The Atlantic tries to answer these exact questions. Anat Shenker-Osorio writes in his “Taxonomy of how we talk about class and wealth in America:”

Researching how people’s unconscious assumptions affect their perception of economic issues, I explored the linguistic dynamics behind the term “middle class,” especially in comparison to other economic groupings. In the Corpus of Contemporary American English, a database of more than 450 million words from speeches, media, fiction, and academic texts, among the most common words (excluding conjunctions and prepositions among others) co-occurring with “middle class” we find “emerging,” “burgeoning,” “burdened,” and “squeezed.” These tell us what happens to this grouping. Absent are quantitative terms or descriptors for what life is like within this category. In fact, in common usage, we rarely hear about actual people named within it; middle class may as well describe a grouping of potted plants or pop cans. There’s little here tied to income or lifestyle.

Conversely, statements about “the wealthy” co-occur with terms like “investors,” “businessmen,” “patrons,” “owners,” and “donors.” What these words indicate is a sense of sources of income and, by extension, the amount compensated. The wealthy, in our language, aren’t acted upon but rather act as human members of a group who get things done and pay themselves to do it.

“Poor,” once the meaning of low quality is filtered out, comes with “guy” and “girl” but also “homeless,” “sick,” “plight,” “needy,” and “suffering.” Those descriptors provide a sense what it’s like to be in this group day to day, and they make pretty clear it’s made up of people who aren’t allowed any or much income.

Shenker-Osorio goes on to remind us of all the examples of wealth we see on television and in the media, via “reality” TV like The Real Housewives or Keeping up with the Kardashians. If that kind of money depicts the rich, even people making $500,000 aren’t going to identify as being rich themselves. As for the poor, while we’d rather not see poverty, the idea of the panhandler, or homeless person is a salient one, and with that as a defining image, people are unlikely to call themselves “poor.” “Not finding popular depictions of wealth and poverty similar to our own lived experiences,” Shenker-Osorio goes on to say, “we determine we must be whatever’s left over. Picking “middle class” is easy enough to do because, again, the language doesn’t present much to go on in terms of what this label describes.”

Looking to others, and seeing that they have more, could be why many in the upper class, and even the rich, believe they are middle class. One U.S. News Money article suggests that when we know how much people like Bill Gates, Mark Zuckerberg and Mitt Romney are worth, it is easy for the rich to say, “well I’m not in that group, so I must be middle class.”

The article goes on to point out that it’s not all that illogical to feel that way. The difference between the true middle class (making around $50,000 a year) and the top 20% (making around $103,000 a year) is only $53,000, which isn’t all that much. But the difference between a family making $100K a year and a millionaire making $900K a year is a difference that is nearly 17 times as great.

“As you work your way up the income ladder, inequality grows,” he says. “If people make $104,096 per year, which puts them in the richest 20 percent of the population, they feel ‘relatively’ poor because they compare themselves to people in the top 1 percent of the income distribution – people making over $500,000, but primarily millionaires.”

This really hit home for me. I was convinced that I wasn’t upper class because I can afford the life I imagined the middle class had access to, and nothing more. In my mind, the upper class could always take vacations, and buy nice things without credit cards, and basically do, or have, whatever they wanted.

In my late twenties and early thirties, all my friends from college were making more than I was, significantly so. My three best girl friends are a lawyer, an MD and high-up New York City employee, each making well over six figures. For years they met up annually in some exotic locale and enjoyed the sites, along with each other’s company. They were clearly upper class, while I, stuck at home (a trip to Thailand completely out of my reach), was middle class.

Looking back, I recognize a similar comparison mindset growing up: my dad was at the height of his career during the Internet/tech boom, when those lucky few who got in at the ground floor made millions when their start up went public. Many of his friends made their fortunes that way, and were able to retire (semi- or completely) in their 40’s or 50’s. These friends bought lavish mansions, trading in their new cars for something newer every few years and living extravagant lives, all in one the most expensive areas in the country. My dad chased that dream for the rest of his life, many times leaving the relative stability of one job to be at the ground floor somewhere else. But instead of cashing in stock options, he usually ended up getting laid off, and the only reason we maintained our lifestyle through those stressful times was the deep savings accounts my mom cultivated. Surely we couldn’t be upper class when our friends had so much, and my father endured long stretches of unemployment. The contrast made it impossible.

They say comparison is the thief of joy, but it can also misconstrue reality, especially when it’s based primarily on assumption. A quick glance at my peers suggests that everyone we know is doing as well as, if not better, than we are. But the reality is I don’t know how much familial help they have, or if they are willing to put that European vacation on a credit card. I don’t know if they got a scholarship to send their kid to the primary school that costs $30K a year, or if they are scrimping and saving all year to pay for that really nice summer camp at the creativity museum. Just because someone has something I don’t, doesn’t mean they are more financially secure than I am.

According to this article at USNews Money, our income (over $150,000) puts us in the top 5% of earners in the United States. The same article declares that those who make $250,000 a year are in the top 1% (though a different article from Slate claims that earning $250K a year puts you in the top 2% and you need to make $395,000 to be so reviled by the other 99%, which is a significant difference).* I know people who fall into those income strata, and I can assure you they don’t self-identify as the top 1% or 2%. I definitely don’t feel like I’m in the top 5%. When your peers seem to be affording the same life you live, or one with even more amenities, it’s hard to maintain perspective.**

The reality is that as a country we carry over $1 TRILLION dollars in credit card debt, and that 75% of households don’t have enough in liquid savings to cover an unexpected expense of $400. Over three fourths of the generation that is getting ready to retire does not have nearly enough saved to live off of. Most households are one accident, illness or layoff away from complete financial devastation.

Sitcoms and commercials have been portraying the American middle class since television’s inception, and their depiction rarely wavers. These images of a warm home and quirky family make it easy for anyone to recognize their own life on the screen. We all share the same basic hopes and fears, no matter how much money we make. We all want the same things for our family, and see ourselves working hard to achieve them. It’s no wonder that most people see themselves as being middle class, even if they fall outside the considerable spectrum.

But there is something else at play, an important piece of the psychological puzzle. I believe it is more important than the muddling lack of quantitative terms describing the middle class and more pervasive than the illusion of comparison. I think it may even be the determining factor in a person’s own perception of where they fall in America’s economic class system–I have identified it as the single biggest reason I find it so hard to recognize myself as upper class. What could this missing puzzle piece be? More on that tomorrow…

Do you find yourself comparing your financial situation to those of others? Does doing that make you feel more, or less, financially secure?

*Yet another article claims that if you make $115K a year you’re in the top 10% earners, which means that, according to the numbers from Pew Center Research, you can be middle class and be in the top 10% of earners. I don’t really understand that.

**Touching on upper earners and fluctuating incomes, I found these numbers from the Slate article very interesting:

Those affluent moments are more common than you might think. More than 76 percent of Americans get to experience the joys of a six-figure household income for at least one year, just more than half will make $150,000 or more at some point, and about 20 percent hit the $250,000 mark at least once, which these days would put them within the top 2 percent of earners.

But incomes are erratic. According to Rank and his collaborators, just half of Americans hit six figures for five or more years, and only one-third manage it for a decade total. Meanwhile, less than 2 percent cross the quarter-million-dollar threshold for at least 10 years of their lives. Just 1 percent do it for 10 consecutive years.

Financial Security/Identity

Rethinking the “The Middle Class,” Part 1: The Definition

Posted on by noemikjames / 58 Comments

It started almost a year and a half ago, when my husband’s health insurance coverage kicked in. With that massive expense covered, we had finally arrived at the financial reality of our lives. Before that we were always in a transition of some kind: my husband finding a new job, maternity leave (without pay), working 80% to be home more after the second kid, purchasing our family’s health insurance out-of-pocket (to the tune of $2.5K A MONTH). When my husband’s coverage FINALLY kicked in, we were both earning as much money as we could expect to make for the foreseeable future. We had arrived. And yet, we were still living month to month, still watching the reimbursements from our tax sheltered child care account, and even most of our tax refund, going to unexpected home renovations or paying for our homeowners insurance when it came due. We didn’t feel we could put as much as we wanted into retirement and still pay the bills, and we weren’t putting anything aside for our kids’ college funds, let alone into savings.

I didn’t understand it: How could we barely be making ends meet? We had jobs that paid decent salaries. We were paying the mortgage on a modest house in a not-so-great part of town. We didn’t go on vacation. We didn’t buy extravagant things. Shouldn’t things be… easier? There was such a massive disconnect between the life I had expected and the reality of our financial situation, and every time I tried to investigate what might explain that disconnect, I came back to one thing: the idea of the middle class. I identified as being middle class, upper middle class even–and with two advanced degrees!–and I seemed to believe that along with my membership in that class, I had been promised a certain quality of life. And I didn’t expect we’d have to struggle so much to barely maintain it.

I grew up assuming I was middle class. Besides our stint abroad, our childhood seemed very “normal.” We had a nice house, two cars, we attended public schools, we were told we could attend state colleges or universities (without taking on debt), we took vacations, and we didn’t seem to think about money. It wasn’t until I was a senior in college and my father had been out of a job for over a year that my parents denied me something because of a lack of money: I was to graduate on time or foot the bill for anything I took in my fifth year. I promptly abandoned my Spanish minor and graduated in four years (quite a few of my friends went on to be “super seniors”).

I vaguely remember a conversation with my husband, early in our relationship, in which I asserted that my parents were, indeed, middle class, after he suggested we were actually better off than that. Even then I was protective of my inclusion in the “middle class” club. I bristled at the idea that we had more than most people; in my mind we were the same as everybody else. And I suppose that was true, because everyone around us was upper middle class–or better off–just like we were.

I believed I grew up middle class, and continued to be middle class, until this past year when I started googling the term to see what exactly the middle class was. While I’m still not clear on exactly who can claim ownership in the middlc class–no one is!–I’m pretty sure most people would not consider me a member. It seems, I am irked to say, that I am solidly upper class.

How can that be? How can a family that struggles to make ends meet, and isn’t saving, be upper class? Well first, let’s look at the numbers.

The range of incomes that delineate the middle class is not widely agreed upon. Some economists consider those making the middle 50% of incomes to be middle class. Others determine that those who make +/- 50% of the median income are middle class. The numbers I saw referenced most widely were provided by Pew Center Research, which performed a study on the middle class using government data in late 2015. Their income range of two thirds to two-times the national income median provided a spectrum of $46,960 – $140,900 a year for a four person household.

We are a family of four, and we make around $175,000 a year–we fall well outside that range. But we also live an area with a very high cost of living. Surely in San Francisco, where the median price for a home is $1.1 million, we are considered middle class. Well, CNN Money’s Middle Class calculator doesn’t think so. When I plugged in our salary and county (San Francisco city and county comprise the same area), I was informed that the upper threshold was $153,866. Even in the crazy expensive city of San Francisco, I’m still not considered middle class, at least not when it comes to how much I make.

Of course, income is not the only way to determine who is middle class. In fact, there are many economists who argue it is not the best indicator, because it fluctuates so much over a lifetime. For some economists, wealth is seen as a better indicator of economic status, as it takes into consideration inheritance or trusts that aren’t recorded on your W-2. An article at CNN Money presented one economist’s range –those that fall in the middle three fifths of the wealth spectrum (0$ to $401,000)–as being middle class; the lower fifth are in debt and the highest fifth are considered wealthy. While the article does not explain how to determine one’s “wealth,” I’m assuming a mortgage does not count as “debt” since it is a secured debt (my house is an asset held as collateral by the bank). If that is the case, we fall on somewhere in the range of middle class, as we have no unsecured debt, but no where near $400K in savings.

That same article presented three other ways that economists and federal agencies determine the middle class: consumption, aspiration and demographics. The aspirations of the middle class (illustrated in a cute little infographic)–home ownership, car, retirement security, family vacations, and college education for the kids–definitely encapsulates my understanding of the middle class, but I think it is less helpful in differentiating the middle and upper classes than it is the lower and middle classes.

I found the demographics section, which combines sociology and economics, most interesting. This infographic used age, education and race to determine if you are middle class by sending you through a series of yes/no questions until you finally end up in one of three categories: stragglers, middle class and thrivers. The most interesting part was there was no race distinction for people under 39. and both the White/Asian–Over 39 demographics who finished college were considered “thrivers,” (and those groups didn’t need to finish college to be considered middle class), while “any race” under 39 who finished college weren’t considered “thrivers,” but instead where deemed “middle class.” Sadly, those under 39 who didn’t finish college were delegated to the ranks of “stragglers.” According to “demographics” I am middle class, though I wonder if our post-graduate degrees (which were not accounted for in the infographic) would have pushed us into the “thrivers” category.

So, am I middle class? Probably not, but I’m still not sure. And the more articles I read, the more I realized that no one else is either.

So, why is it so hard to define the middle class? More on that tomorrow…

Does seeing the actual numbers ($46,960 – $140,900 a year for a family of four) change how you view your membership in the middle class? Does that range surprise you?

 

Life/Writing

Achievement Unlocked

Posted on by noemikjames / 10 Comments

I’ve written before (though maybe only on my other blog), that one thing I’ve struggled with during this stage in my life is a perceived lack of accomplishment.

I suppose I’ve never been very satisfied just living me life as it was. I was always desperate to reach the next milestone, to find a steady boyfriend, to get married, to have children, to buy a house. My sights were always set on what society next expected of me. I never once thought to forge my own path, or at the very least, take my time on the well worn one.

I was always so fucking impatient, so unable to just be, wherever I was. Why was that? Why is that now?

{I wonder sometimes if that is why I’ve always purchased things so compulsively, because the acquisition of something new was like an achievement of some kind–at the very least I had attained something. Maybe all that attaining of commercial crap was a desperate, subconscious attempt to make up for something more significant that I was failing to attain.

Maybe it still is.}

Now that I’ve reached all the milestones, and there are no more major life transitions to await, I wonder what the fuck I’m going to do with my life. Where will I find my creative fulfillment? What will I accomplish with these precious moments of this fleeting existence?

My husband and his friend started something amazing ten years ago and Saturday they celebrated its birthday. He was gone for much of the weekend, leaving me alone at night to pass the hours on the couch. I always feel a stab of melancholy and regret when my husband is out with others, not because I begrudge him a good time, but because there are few things I enjoy more than socializing, and I don’t have many opportunities to do it. And yet I found that I was less sad to be missing out on adult conversation this weekend, and more upset that I didn’t have some impressive accomplishment to celebrate, or even one to focus on for the future.

This clearly means something to me, this feeling that I am accomplishing something. It’s one of the reasons I’ve started looking for a new job–teaching a no-stakes class feels more and more like a waste of time, not a worthwhile way to live one’s entire life. I don’t know if I can look back on 30 years of teaching middle school Spanish and feel like I did something meaningful.

I understand that this is a season in my life, one that is defined by how little time is left to pursue creative ventures. And yet… from what I’ve heard, it won’t get better any time soon. I don’t see much changing for the next fifteen to twenty years. And honestly, I don’t even know what I want to achieve (if I did, I could probably find the time to do it). And maybe that is okay. Maybe I can wait, until I’ve taught long enough to draw a decent pension, and I don’t have kids at home demanding my time. Maybe those twenty years will inspire me, maybe that is when I’ll know what I want to do, when I’ll create something meaningful, when I’ll accomplish something that I can point to and be proud of.

And maybe I won’t. Maybe I won’t make it to the end those twenty years, or I’ll speed past them without producing something substantial, despite finally having the financial flexibility, and some time.

And perhaps that is the reality of it. Perhaps that will be my accomplishment, just making it through the next twenty years, working the same job, supporting my family, raising my kids, and finding contentment in that day to day existence. Maybe that is all I will ever achieve.

I know it’s not nothing. I know that raising two children is a worthy endeavor. But I also know that it’s not fair to pin my sense of accomplishment on their happiness and success. Even if I’m lucky enough that they end up well-adjusted, productive members of society, that is as much their achievement as mine. It just doesn’t seem right to pin this deep need in me to do something on two people who are just beginning their own lives.

I suppose what I’m meant to accomplish right now is an acceptance of my life, and the fact that I probably won’t have anything concrete at the end of it that I can point to and say, I did that, that was me, or even, I was a part of something. It will have to be enough that I lived, that I touched the lives of others in subtle, undefinable ways, that I didn’t take what I had for granted.

Yes, the ultimate accomplishment would be to achieve acceptance, of everything, for what it is. To learn to suspend judgement and approach every moment with equanimity. That is what life is all about.

That is the ultimate achievement unlocked.

I hope I have the next twenty years to figure it out.

PS – Mel’s post yesterday explored one way of articulating this feeling, and reading it was like opening a most expected and treasured gift. Sometimes being a part of this thing that is blogging really is magical.

PPS – The Middle Class posts start tomorrow. There will be three of them. I truly hope they are worth the wait.

What do you hope to accomplish with your life? Do you expect to achieve it?

Identity/Life

The Loneliness of Being Done with a Good Book (and recommendations please)

Posted on by noemikjames / 21 Comments

I was writing to a friend this morning, talking about how this past week has been pretty decent–almost completely without that crushing weight that frequently makes my life feel relentless and untenable. Then I went on to say I was two hours away from the end of Ready Player One, and as eager as I was to finish it, I was anticipating how sad I’d be when it was over.

And then I thought, I wonder if this past week has been so bearable, because I was reading this great book that offered me another world I could escape to?

I honestly think the two are completely related.

I know I’m going to finish Ready Player One tonight, and my husband won’t be home when that happens. I’m absolutely anticipating a very real feeling of loneliness when it’s over and I’m sitting there alone. Sometimes, when I’m really into a good book, and I finally finish it, I feel the kind of sad you feel when someone you care about moves away. Like there is a very real hole left in your life, an absence that pains you, and you want desperately to fill it.

Am I painting myself the sad, social outcast? Perhaps. But it’s the way I feel. It’s my truth. It probably means I need more friends, but I already know this. And honestly, I don’t mind falling so head over heels for a book that I feel like I’ve lost something, or someone, when it’s over.

It’s such a strange feeling, to want to keep reading, and yet be dreading the moment when it’s over, a mixture or elation and heartsickness, all at once.

Anticipating the end of Ready Player One, I’m requesting book recommendations. Something I can lose myself into for another week or so. A book that can be my good friend while I’m reading it.

Am I the only one who feels lonely and sad when she finishes a good book?

Can you recommend something amazing to me?

Uncategorized

My Oasis

Posted on by noemikjames / 14 Comments

Remember that thing I mentioned in yesterday’s post; my idea for how I could get away, that I can’t actually afford? This is it:

I want a yurt in our backyard. Nothing big or fancy, just a small one–maybe 15 feet across?–that can be my sanctuary, a spot to find calm in the storm. I know our house is not particularly small at 1200 sq ft, but it can feel small when there aren’t any rooms that I can escape to, where the kids will just leave me be. Our bedroom is basically in the living room because the only thing that separates the two is a foldable Japanese shade–sound passes through it like it’s not even there. The kitchen door doesn’t close right, and even if it did, it has glass panes and the kids can see through them (actually there are two glass-paned doors leading to the kitchen, one from the hall and one from the living room). The “sun room,” where we eat, is relatively secluded, but it’s small and dank and really cold in the winter (it has no insulation). Plus the cat’s food and water are in there, so my husband gets irrationally upset when I try to close the door, even for a short while.

There just isn’t anywhere I can get away from for an hour, when I need a break. And since my husband never takes the kids anywhere, I get way fewer breaks than he does. Plus, there is no room where I can work out in the morning, or during the bedtime routine that wouldn’t involve me waking someone up or getting yelled at by the kids at the gate when I’m on the elliptical.

The idea of a pristine, round room in our backyard, where I could do yoga or an exercise video, or just read a book for an hour in the middle of a weekend day, or on a night when I want some time away but don’t have anyone to meet up with (this happens A LOT) is so amazing. We have the perfect space for it, it would seriously be the coolest fucking thing. Of course we can’t afford it, and if we actually saved up a six-month emergency fund before we got one, we wouldn’t be able to get it for YEARS, like maybe a decade. So yeah. That is my thing right now. And it’s never going to happen. But it can sit in my mind, with the electric-assisted cargo bike we can’t afford, in that space reserved for wish-we-coulds, until it eventually fades away.

(This is much bigger than what I’m envisioning, but it’s the closest approximation that I could find.)

I know, I know. I’m fucking crazy. And I always want absurd shit. I’ll get over it. I just think it would be such a nice way to deal with so many of our problems. It’s fun to daydream.

Life

Blerg

Posted on by noemikjames / 10 Comments

So, it turns out that synthesizing multiple articles, along with my own thoughts, and the thoughts of others, in a cohesive, insightful way is hard. Really hard. And it’s taking me forever to do it.

It doesn’t help that Saturday night I drank too much and Sunday morning I felt horrible. Like, hungover, horrible. I was supposed to be at work by 9am and that is where I was going to take some quiet hours to work on my post, but at 8am there was no way I could get out of bed, let alone drive for 30 minutes on the highway, so I lost my chance. I was super frustrated with myself.

I didn’t end up making it to work until 11:30, which means I had less than an hour to make copies and get a few things together to bring home before I met my daughter and mom at a youth theater production of Aladdin Jr. that some of my students were in. At least by then I was feeling better.

The rest of the evening went okay and I thought I might even be able to write the post Sunday, while I exercised but I quickly realized that wasn’t going to happen. It’s one thing to get on the elliptical and get down about of stream-of-consciousness drivel like this, it’s quite another to jump back and forth between my outline and links and wordpress’s draft page. I gave it a good ten minute go, but I wasn’t getting anywhere.

And I still have to make six seating charts before I go to bed. So yeah, it’s not happening. Or by the time you read this, it will have failed to happen.

Ugh, the I-was-super-hungeover-and-only-feel-marginally-better workout is not fun. It’s going to be a long 45 minutes.

But before I sign off, I want to get out a few thoughts that have been churning in my head of late. They aren’t really big enough to be posts in and of themselves, but they are worth putting out there.

  • Saturday my parents took the kids after my son’s nap because my husband and I were seeing a comedy show (SF SketchFest is in town–my husband and I have been going for ten years). We wisely decided to get busy before we went out because I knew we’d be tired when we got home, and I wasn’t sure we’d have time the next morning (ha! or be hungover!) so we commenced sexy time, but I was having such a hard time getting into it. Finally I realized that I was stressed about the general state of the house, and the busy Sunday ahead, and I just couldn’t push either from the back of my mind. Once I realized what was happening I was able to get past it relatively quickly and we ended up enjoying ourselves (finally!). Later I told my husband why I thought I had struggled so mightily to get in the mood. I think he kind of understands. The weekend we spent together in December the house was clean and we had four days to do with as we pleased; it was super easy for me to get in the mood then. It’s a lot harder when every where I look I see a mess to be cleaned or laundry to be folded. I’m not sure how to handle this moving forward, but I think recognizing it is a good first step.
  • We found out Friday that my daughter’s teacher will be out for four weeks because of an emergency surgery. There is little chance they will find a long term sub, which means the next month will see a revolving door of substitutes who have no idea what they are doing while the room descends into chaos. This will be stressful for all of the class. My daughter will handle it especially poorly.
  • We are THREE WEEKS AWAY from being done with vision therapy. The only thing I have more eagerly awaited was finishing graduate school (when I was working full time with a six month old). To say the last eight weeks has been challenging would be an understatement of epic proportions. There are few things I loathe as much as those fucking exercise, and the hell they make my life. I cannot wait to be done with it. And the really great news is that my daughter has progressed amazingly well–she’s almost already where they want her, the final weeks are just to buildup the neuropathways she’s been creating so that she will never have to have vision therapy again. Three weeks. I can do three weeks. We’re soooooo close.
  • My daughter’s “selective eating” (I read somewhere you should use “selective” instead of picky”) is becoming more selective. As the range of her approved foods narrows, it’s becoming harder and harder to find something she is willing to eat. Her breakfast and lunch every school day is the same thing, and at this point there are only a handful of things she’ll have for dinner. We clearly need to change something, but I’m not willing to do that until we’re done with vision therapy. There are only so many battles I can fight in a single evening.
  • Things with my husband continue to be better. He is still stepping up on the home and child care front in ways he didn’t used to. He’s still not bitching about it. I’m learning to let him do things I used to do, and to not feel guilty about him doing it. I’m learning to leave my martyrdom at the door. Things are good, and dare I say it? I think they may even get better.
  • {My only wish is that it were easier for me to get away. I actually have an idea for how to make that happen, but of course I can’t afford it. I’ll write more about this soon — for realz this time, I actually wrote it in this post but it got too long so I pulled it out. I’ll put it up tomorrow.}
  • Holy shit how do I still have ten more minutes on this machine?! I know I’ll feel better for having exercised but right now I just want to be done! For the love!
  • I finally started Ready Player One and am, only one fourth of the way in, totally and completely obsessed. I really hope it maintains my attention and enthusiasm for the remainder.
  • Did you know that if you do something you want to undo on your iPhone–like select text and then paste over it instead of copying it–you can shake your phone and a “undo action” button will appear. It’s like Command+Z for your iPhone and evidently it works in multiple apps.

And I’m pushing 1.000 words so I’ll let you all go. I wish I could write my middle class post as easily as this one. Thank you for your patience as I attempt to tackle what is clearly more than I am capable of.

Writing

Coming Soon to a Blog Near You

Posted on by noemikjames / 6 Comments

So! You lovely ladies totally came through and the discussion on that last post was f*cking amazing. So, so interesting, insightful and thoughtful. You absolutely inspired me in the writing of my post.

And I would be putting up that post instead of this one, except…well, life. Early this week my daughter had a few nights that were really hard. They were the kind of nights that make me think things about being a mom that I don’t think most mothers think. They were really, really hard, the kind of hard that makes me wonder if I’m going to make it through the next few years with my sanity in tact. The kind of hard that makes me fear for my daughter’s future contentment.

And then last night, right when things were getting better at home, I had two PTA meetings, one for each of my kids’ schools.

So yeah. The post isn’t written yet. I’ve had a lot on my mind, and I’ve been emotionally exhausted. The only thing that got me through some parts of it, honestly, was the conversation happening on this blog. I so appreciated being able to engage in a meaningful discussion about a topic that interests me, especially when real life was totally overwhelming.

I plan to have the post up Monday. I have all my links ready, and my thoughts mostly organized. I am so looking forward to getting it all down (parts of it are written already), and then putting it out there. I am very much looking forward to the discussion that I hope will follow.

I’m sorry that conversation isn’t taking place today. It’s frustrating when life gets in the way, but I’ve been around long enough to get over it and let it go. I apologize for not following through in the way I planned, but I promise I will follow through eventually.

I hope you all have a great weekend. See you on the other side.

Financial Security/Identity

Your Thoughts on the Middle Class

Posted on by noemikjames / 66 Comments

I have been working on a post about “being middle class.” I originally wanted to ask all of you some questions before I put up the post, but then I thought that was bad blogging etiquette (asking you for your thoughts before I gave mine). So I started reading articles and writing the post. And the more I read about it, and wrote about it, and thought about it, the more I realized that I REALLY want to know what you all think before I post here. Basically, I want to sit down and have a conversation with all of you about this, and I want to hear what you think, because I’m still not sure what I think, and I’m hoping your thoughts will enlighten and inspire me.

So here it is. I’ve been thinking a lot lately about money and personal finances and how people get by in this country. It boggles my mind that we make as much as we do and still struggle to save money (and sometimes even to make ends meet). I have always considered myself “middle class”–upper middle class, to be more exact, and I wonder what the financial lives of others in the middle class actually look like. This led me to wonder what being “middle class,” really meant, what the actual parameters are (if any are agreed upon), and how people who are middle class feel about money and their own personal finances. So before I write more about all that, I want to ask you: Do you consider yourself middle class? Why or why not? How do you define “the middle class”? What does it mean to you to be “middle class” (whether you identify as belonging or not)? Do you ever think/read/write about “the middle class,” and if so, in what contexts? If you have anything else to share about this ubiquitous, and yet strangely elusive topic, please feel free to share.

And… Thoughts!

Financial Security

Our Great Financial Sin

Posted on by noemikjames / 37 Comments

For years I had spending issues that I was so afraid to face, that I never looked closely at our financial situation. While I could definitely improved on the spending front, I’ve got a good handle on it, enough so that I KNOW my spending is not frivolous. Sure I could spend less, but most of what I spend money on are things we need–and I never purchase these things extravagantly.

So why is it that we can’t seem to save any money? Until very recently, the shame and guilt I’ve suffered over my past spending habits swayed my opinion into the “we must be doing something horribly wrong,” way of looking at things. I assumed we were committing egregious financial sins, especially as I read more and more personal finance blogs and saw how much of their income other people were saving.

And yet, when I look at our situation, I can’t find those egregious financial sins. The reality is, when it comes to the big stuff, we are (and have been) very financially responsible:

  • We only own one car, a Honda Accord which we bought used and which we’ll own until it doesn’t drive anymore (I’ve already put over 100,000 miles on it in 5.5 years).
  • We lived in a small, rent controlled apartment for far longer than it fit us (and that was probably causing health problems) and we didn’t leave until we could purchase a house.
  • We bought a house when the market wasn’t crazy and interest loans were REALLY GOOD (maybe the best they ever were?!).
  • We don’t take vacations.
  • We hardly ever travel, and when we do it’s to see family (once ever other year–and usually my parents help us pay for air fare) or friends, so we don’t have to pay to stay.
  • We don’t upgrade technology unless absolutely necessary. {Both our computers are white MacBooks–over seven years old–that we bought when our other computers were stolen. Our iPads were handed down from our parents.}
  • We didn’t have a wedding, or go on a honeymoon, or buy expensive wedding bands (and I didn’t get an engagement ring).
  • We have aggressively paid off our student loans (I’m a year away from being done!)
  • We put money away for retirement every month (though not enough).

So what are our egregious financial sins? Why can’t we afford a life that seems reasonable to us as professionals with advanced degrees?

I’ve been able to identify a few:

  • My husband took a non-profit job that paid less than 1/3 of what he was making at his law firm so he could champion a cause that he feels is important and he believes in (gun control). It was during those years that we had our children.
  • During those 4.5 years neither of us had access to affordable health care through our jobs–when our second child was born we were spending $2.5K A MONTH to provide health insurance for our family.
  • I have “pre-existing health conditions” in the form of mental health issues that made (and continue to make) different kinds of insurance (life, disability, etc) more expensive.
  • I am a teacher so I’ve never made a good salary, especially taking into consideration my advanced degree.
  • My husband now works for the city, so he also doesn’t make a great salary, especially considering he has a JS.
  • MOST IMPORTANTLY–we live in the third most expensive city IN THE WORLD (when it comes to housing prices).

So there you have it. Our egregious financial sins are working jobs that benefit society more than they benefit our bottom line, and living where our families live (which is, unfortunately, in an incredibly expensive city/area), while falling victim to the insanity that is skyrocketing health care costs.

I think, what it comes down to, is that we were taught to expect a standard of living that our level of education no longer guarantees, in a time when the economy is changing so quickly and rapidly, that the financial rules of the last generation don’t apply. Sure my parents made more than we do, but not by much, and they did it with less education (and student debt) than my husband and I have. But my parents NEVER had to think about health care, let along pay for their own health insurance. And my father worked abroad back when when they paid for your housing, so renters were paying off their mortgage for ten years while they lived rent-free.

My husband’s father raised a family of four on his income alone as a city employee, but he didn’t have to save for retirement because he was paying into a pension that guaranteed he could maintain his standard of living when he stopped working (after 35 years in Human Resources, my FIL makes more in retirement than I make as a teacher who is only three steps from the highest salary on the scale). Housing was more affordable back then, as way food, gas and other basic necessities. My husband works for the same city, but his pension plan will provide significantly less, and his salary gets him less as well.

Also, our advanced degrees cost more (taking into consideration inflation) than our parents’ degrees cost, which means we’ve had to put more of our monthly income toward paying off student loans than they did.

The old rules just don’t apply.

I have been thinking about this a lot. I realize now that I made very real mistakes when it came to choosing my career. Knowing what I know now, I don’t think I would have moved out of the area–being near my parents is important to me, especially now that I have kids–but I absolutely would have chosen a job based on what I could expect to earn. I honestly didn’t think much about it at the time, I just figured that if my parents could afford their lifestyle (my mom was a teacher), then I could teach and afford it too (I will admit that I assumed my husband would “make the money”–so dumb, I know). I knew nothing about how much houses cost (especially in this area), how much I should be putting away for retirement, how much I should be able to save each month and how important investing was. No one ever taught me those things. So now I’m figuring it out, when it’s almost too late.

And honestly, I do believe it’s too late for me to make the changes necessary to have the life I always envisioned for my family. Traveling was a HUGE part of my childhood and I wanted that for my kids, but I know now that just won’t happen for them. We won’t ever have a real bedroom with four enclosed walls, or a second bathroom to provide a little privacy, and that’s fine too. I’m willing to let go of my dreams of more space to live in this city, near our parents–I recognize that is a choice we make.

But I want to continue educating myself so I can teach my children these lessons that I never learned. I want them to know–from actual experience–how much of what they earn should be put into savings, and that they have to make very real sacrifices for the things that are most important to them. I want them to learn how to delay, or forgo, gratification that they can’t afford. I want them to be good at recognizing what they really want, so they can make financial choices accordingly.

I know this post sounds very woe-is-me, and I don’t mean for it to be. I see myself for what I am: an entitled woman learning things now that she should have learned long ago. I recognize I’m incredibly privileged, that the things I am letting go were luxuries I should never have taken for granted, let alone expected. I get that I’m a rich little white girl getting only the smallest taste of the real world. Honestly, I’m not angry with the realities of my life; I’m just angry that no one bothered to teach them to me. I’m just angry that it was assumed I would understand, that I would know my parents saved money (I suppose I did) and it would be clear to me how they budgeted to do that. I wish someone would have sat me down and explained how important it was to start saving for retirement in my early 20’s, long BEFORE I turned 20, instead of when I was 28, or taught me how to delay short-term gratification for long-term gain. But no one taught me those things. And honestly, I’m thankful my kids will grow up being forced to learn them not only through the lessons we teach, but their own life circumstances.

In the end, I guess that was my true egregious financial sin–learned (or perhaps willful?) ignorance. I’m glad I’m figuring it all out now, so I can teach it to my kids, before it’s too late. I see now, that these lesson are priceless.

How did you learn financial responsibility? Would you change it in any way? How do you plan to teach your children?