You are my luxury

Sometimes, thanks to social media, the internet feels like a very small place, a limited orbit. I shared this on the blog's Facebook page last night after seeing it posted on another site, but by morning it was everywhere.

Maybe you've read it by now, in which the "luxury" of stay at home motherhood is contrasted with the "necessities" for survival, as so deemed by society at large. 

I thought it was a well written piece that walked the fine line between values statements and judgmental proclamations handily. Not everyone agrees with that assessment, but I think that's more to do with the emotionally charged nature of the debate (mom-at-home vs. mom-at-work), and not any fault of the writer's.

My own impression? I thought it was spot on. And before that gets me in trouble with my working mama friends, hear me out.

I see you, too. I know you must struggle to leave them every day, to put on your professional face and set your primary mom identity aside from 9-5. I know because you love your kids as much as I love mine, and that while I get a thrill of freedom and relief over the occasional half day in the office every other week or so, spent in meetings or working on a special project, you have to do it every single day, and that it probably doesn't feel much like escape to you. 

Home probably feels like your escape when you pull into the driveway at night, because that's where you left your heart when you pulled the door closed behind you that morning. 

And I don't envy you for that. Because I know that no matter how much you love your job, that can't be easy, and that no amount of uninterrupted time in the restroom can make up for the pain of that separation. 

I'm not saying you shouldn't be working outside the home, by the way. You've made your choice and I've made mine, and we're both doing our very best for our children.

But when I contemplate the idea of luxury like the New York Times piece touched on, when I stop to think about what makes life sweet and satisfying and ultimately, worth living, it isn't cars or a beautiful home that come to mind, or honestly, even being able to pay my bills on time.

It's them.

My children are my luxury. 

So in that sense, yes, I have embraced the most luxurious life possible, in choosing to stay home with them, to work a job that fits mostly into nap times and late nights, and in forgoing some of the more typical decisions that might otherwise accompany one's early to mid thirties in modern America.

We're nowhere near buying a house, but that has more to do with me choosing to spend invisible money on higher education more than a decade ago than with the cost of diapers. We drive older, sort of ugly cars. But there are two of them, which sometimes causes me to catch my breath at the sheer indulgence of it. We did the one car thing and then, living overseas, the no car thing. A car is an enormous luxury.

But I'd trade my minivan for the chance to be home with them if it came to it, honestly I would. And I know couples who have made that decision, no regrets.

There's something that only another parent can understand: your child is an unstoppable and ever-changing force of nature, and childhood is fleeting. 

And every time I leave them, even if just for a weekend away with their daddy, or an hour or two at the coffee shop, I long to be with them again. Sometimes I even miss them while they're sleeping, an admission that only hormones can be responsible for. (You know you've made the late night forehead kissing pilgrimage too, don't deny it.)

And I know too, that no matter how far my eyes roll up into my head in Costco when yet another well-intenetioned stranger tells me that I'm so lucky to be able to stay home with them all day...in the end, they're right.

I am so lucky. And I need to do a better job keeping that in mind, day in and day out. Because I chose this life, and we are choosing it daily, as a couple, and there are sacrifices and sufferings and little deaths involved, as there are in any other big decision. But when we add them up nothing compares to the immeasurable luxury of time with our children. 

And I don't have to explain that to a single other person. Besides, they couldn't possibly understand what I do: that these particular kids are beyond worth it for this particular mother, and that no matter what else I could be doing in a professional capacity, it pales in comparison to what I've been asked to do within the 4 walls of my own slightly ill-kempt home. 

And that's not a judgement on anyone else's lifestyle choices. Just the recognition that my own life is, indeed, immeasurably privileged.

State of the budget

Well well well, just over a week in and would you look at that...

I've made exactly zero impulse purchases since we started this little experiment. Nada. Not so much as a latte or an "it's only $3.99 and the library taaaaaakes so long" Kindle title."

Amazing.

Truly, this is amazing, for I am the most entitled and undisciplined woman on the face of the earth.

Had a rough day with the kids? Pint of Ben and Jerry's! Oh, and maybe that latest copy of Real Simple while I'm standing there in the checkout.

Can't find something to wear? Well there's probably something amazing on the Target clearance rack that would be the elusive keystone to my wardrobe that will unify every scrap of subpar made-in-Kackiztanz non-designer piece in my closet.

Right?

Right.

I know it's poor form to express so much enthusiasm this early into the marathon, but I'm honestly stunned at how effective simply putting some hard and fast boundaries around my spending has been.

There was a particular day earlier this week that was just...rough. The kids were finally well enough to leave the house, but it was 11 degrees, so. Yeah. We loaded them up in the filthy winter-splatttered minivan and hightailed it to the Cherry Creek Mall (can I get a what what, locals?) for some immunity-boosting indoor play time on the soft play area.

It was heinously crowded, smelled like diapers, and was crawling with running toddlers and noses. And I wanted a Starbucks.

I even went so far as to ask Dave to grab me one on his way back from a stop into a store there, but he forgot, and I just kind of sat with the craving for a while and it just... dissipated. And then I was sitting there, latte-less, $4 richer, and feeling like I'd just summited Mt. Everest.

It's a little thing, but the past week has been filled with lots of little things that seem like they're going to add up to big things:

- No weird impulses in the grocery store. Just, you know, milk and bananas.

- No frantic texts at 5:19 pm begging for a rush hour pitstop at Chipotle for dinner delivery. Because meal planning! (Actually, that's a lie. There's no planning. It's a motley assortment that hits the table every night; but it's homemade!)

- No unplanned Amazon clicks resulting in unexpected visits from the UPS man at dinner time. Heh, I don't remember even ordering that. Weird!

Stuff like that.

It's been so good. It's been so liberating to finally feel like we're in that sweet spot where we're really only spending money according to the plan we've made with it, using the budget as a ruler an not a sledgehammer.

And yeah, it's early on, but we've already had a couple "hiccups" in the form of an ER visit and a surprisingly high dental bill, but that's fine because those are the inevitable variables in family life...heck, in life, period. Whereas my inability to stop myself from buying 4 clearance onesies and a pack of hair bows for Evie every third day of the week because I just needed to "pick up a few things" at the Bullseye was the very opposite of inevitable. It was evitable, even. I was the problem, not our circumstances. I was causing them.

So there's my take on it all, 8 whole days into the new year. But I've got a sneaking suspicion it's going to keep being really, really good.

(Of course, I'm still living off the fat of my Up and Up diaper stash. For now. Still haven't quite resigned my heart to the drop off at the end of the road...)

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New Year's Revolution

This is the year. We've drawn our line in the sand and steeled our wills and made an impressive list of bullet points that we spit shook over; this is the year we're getting out of debt for good.

I wrote a little bit about our budgeting process a couple weeks ago, and it kind of whetted my appetite to want to dig deeper into our process and see what was working, and what could work better.

Our Advent resolve to stop eating out was a huge revelation, both in terms of the kind of money we were spending on that luxury and convenience, and how empowering it felt to be able to say "no" to ourselves, and to the kids, over and over again, for almost a solid month.

We did it. And we can do it for longer.

We sat down with our budget and figured out that if we cut back in a dramatic, nuclear fashion, we can be completely debt free in a little over 14 months. That means this time next year, we'll be 8 weeks from financial freedom.

That blows my mind.

We've been budgeting for the past 5.5 years and we've paid off a TON of debt in that time. But here's the thing, we had a TON to start with. So we're left with about half of our total debt to plow through.

We crunched some numbers and talked late into the night and came away with a list of tangible changes we can make in 2015 that we think will set us up to be completely debt free by March of 2016. 

To think that we could pay off in 14 months the same amount that took us more than 5 years to retire is...insane. Humbling. Crazy exciting.

I think we'd be in an even better position, financially, had we not cash flowed an international move and three babies, but...I don't regret a single decision we've made, in that regard.

Now that we're locked solidly into our jobs, our incomes are stable (and higher than they were before babies, btw - God works in mysterious ways!) and our immediate needs are met, we think that we can get crazy, gazelle-intense aggressive in 2015.

Here are some examples of how crazy I'm talking:

• No more shopping at Target. Like, ever. Not while there are zeros on the wrong side of our bank account. I'm not knocking their prices, and I'm already mourning the loss of my beloved Up and Up diapers, but I know myself, and I cannot NOT walk out those doors without a minimum of $40 worth of random crap I didn't need and shouldn't have bought. 

• All our grocery shopping will be preplanned, done in cash, and done on a weekly basis. When I run to the store every day or two, I over spend. Every time. No more wandering into the store at 4:52 pm after the gym, roving aimlessly with hungry toddlers through the produce aisle and walking away with a disappointing rotisserie chicken and a $36 hole in the checking account.

• We're canceling Amazon Prime. Sob.

• Dropping my mother's helper down to once per week. I don't have the stomach to cut her loose entirely, but 50% is a good savings.

• No eating out. Like, at all. Unless it's from either of our $25 monthly "blow" allotments.

• Asking "Do we need it? Did we plan for it? Can we live without it?” about every single purchase. And using cash for EVERYTHING not on auto bill pay. 

• No travel, outside of work trips, period. (Might be a no brainer for most families but we have this persistent habit of globe trotting that sorely needs to be retired for a year or ten.)

I think we can do this. I believe that it's 100% within our reach to get out of debt in the next year and some change, and that it has 99% to do with our behavior and the choices we make in that time period. Disasters and illnesses notwithstanding, we can be free.

Meanwhile, I've got to get to work meal planning, thinking up 101 ways to plan a date night using Grandma and Grandpa's Netflix password, and pondering where in the world my cheap diapers and pull ups are going to come from now.

Any New Year's resolutions at your house? Do tell.