Financial Peace (1) It Begins.

This week has been rough.  I hope we never have another year in which M’s birthday, Valentines day and Chinese New Year are in the same week.  Add two snow days to the mix and I am one worn out mama.

But let’s get down to business anyway. This week Mr. A and I started our Dave Ramsey online classes. As we watched the first video, the differences between Mr. A and myself could not have been more obvious.   Mr. A* sat up straight in his chair and attentively filled in all the dumb blanks in the workbook.  I, on the other hand, played with the IPOD, posted on Twitter and fidgeted in my chair.   (The only other class I can remember taking was a swing dancing class oh so many years ago.  Mr. A took notes in that class too…NERD.)

We have watched three videos and so far, we are pretty familiar with the material that has been covered (use cash, don’t use credit, have an emergency fund that is never used).  Even though we know that the principles are right, both Mr. A and I have balked a little at the implementation.

We are people who use our credit card for almost EVERY SINGLE PURCHASE we make. This has worked for us, because it lets us track all our expenses.  We pay the card off in full pretty much every month too.  We don’t carry a balance.  Mr. A particularly likes the points we get for our card which put money into my retirement account.

In other ways, though, using the card for everything doesn’t work for us.   We admit that the credit card allows us to cheat on our budget.  Our worst areas for cheating are groceries and restaurants.  In theory, we have a $50 a week family restaurant budget, but one good sushi dinner or dim sum brunch blows through that without a second thought.  We also are susceptible to the slippery slope of lunches out.  Both Mr. A and I are supposed to get $10 a week, but we regularly go over that too (especially Mr. A with business lunches).   And Target?  Target is like a money black hole.  Can anyone get out of there spending less than $100??  (Obviously, a lot of people can, but *I* have a hard time doing it on a regular basis.)

One of the first baby steps in the Dave Ramsey program is to create Basic Quickie Budget.  I am assuming this will be used soon to figure out our 3-6 months of living expenses for our emergency fund, but for now it was just a good tool to get our conversation started.

You know me, always willing to share a little TMI, so I am going to post our Quickie Budget here (with Mr. A’s permission).   This isn’t what we spend every month, but it is a pretty good approximation of what we think will be an average month without cutting back.

If TMI makes you uncomfortable, look away now.  Also, please refrain from criticizing our line items.  I know there is a lot of fat that can be trimmed from this budget, but we are trying to get a good starting point to work from.

AmFam and Mr. AmFam’s Quickie Monthly Budget

School Loan Debt                       $ 667

Rent                                                 $1100

Utilities

  • Electric                              $  131
  • Water                                  $   40
  • Gas                                       $   91
  • Cellphone                          $ 116
  • Cable**                               $ 135

Food

  • Groceries                           $ 495
  • M’s school lunches         $  40
  • Mr. A’s work lunches    $  80
  • AmFam’s lunches           $  60
  • Restaurants                      $ 250

Transportation

  • Gas & Oil                             $ 175
  • Repairs & Tires                $ 200
  • Car Insurance                  $ 115

Shopping

  • Clothing                             $ 200
  • Target                                 $ 200

Other

  • Life Insurance                 $  75
  • Preschool Tuition          $ 135
  • Entertainment                 $ 120
  • Chinese lessons               $ 120
  • Other lessons                   $   40
  • Medical***                        $  400

Minimum Total Monthly EXPENSES:     $4,985

I know, I know.  OMG, we spend so effing much MONEY. And this would be our beginner GOAL budget.  Sometimes we spend even MORE.  GACK!   It stresses me out just looking at this list.

After we worked out our budget last night, Mr. A and I decided we are going to begin the transition to using cash for the items we know we cheat on: Groceries, Lunches, Restaurants, Target, and Entertainment.   We are going to make the transition a little at a time, though, because we usually budget Mr. A’s paychecks to pay these bills after the fact rather than pulling the cash out before hand.

To get a little more cash on hand, we are going to start out with a month of radical no-spending.  I usually do that every January and June, but we didn’t do it last month because of the move.

So there it is.  Our beginning point.  We want to get started staying on a regular budget before we start cutting things out and feeling deprived.  Getting used to cash is going to be HARD.   I never, ever have cash on hand.  Not even a few dollars.

I know this will be good for us, even if it is challenging at first.   It is in my nature to be a money hoarder, but it is easy to ignore those impulses when the plastic is so readily available and I rarely see the final bill (because Mr. A handles that end of our finances).

Here we go.

________________________________________________________________

*who I must admit is more than a little skeptical that he can learn anything from Dave Ramsey

**Cable/internet/landline/tivo

*** L’s beautiful but very expensive eyes.

Love isn’t enough.

It has been almost three years since we met L.  From day one, I have felt a nagging worry that I am not doing the right things or doing enough for her.

I never felt that way about M, or if I did, those worries have been fleeting.  M and I shared one body; our hearts beat together before she was even born.  I see myself reflected in M: her behavior; the way she thinks; why she makes the choices she makes; and her mannerisms.  With M, there is familiarity and recognition.  There is nothing about her I do not understand.  She can’t keep herself secret from me.  Because I know her, I know what she needs and when she needs it.

L is a puzzle.  When we adopted L she was a stranger to me and she didn’t want to give up her secrets.  She is a tough little nugget on the outside protecting a wounded, broken heart.   She is a mystery wrapped in a mystery hidden under a shell of false bravado. I have spent three years  loving this girl, but I am still learning who she is and what she needs.

I am afraid someone will read this and misunderstand what I am saying.  It isn’t that there is a difference in the intensity of love I feel for my children whether they are adopted or born to me.  I love them both with a love I never thought was possible. Overwhelming and all-encompassing love that could break my heart.

The difference is in the knowing.  I have to learn L.  I have to study her and unwrap her secrets one at a time.  I have to tweeze apart the layers of false confidence and see the tiniest flicker of her eyes to tell me she needs me.  I have to see past the brave front.  I have to show her it is OK to be scared and she can trust me to keep her safe.

This week, we began L’s occupational therapy evaluation and it broke my heart.  My brave girl marched through the testing with barely a peep of protest.  It was only when we asked her to do something that was causing pretty serious discomfort (we think) that she showed the slightest hesitation.  “Can I be done?” she asked in the tiniest voice, with a flash of panic in her eyes.

My sweet baby girl.  Things are harder for her than they should be.  Seeing is harder.  Loving is harder.  Just the simple act of being is harder.  The effects of L’s rocky beginning are written on her body, her brain and her heart.

I have known all along, she was wounded, but we are still trying to figure out how extensive the damage will be.  As her mother, I feel like I should already know but I don’t.

I love her so much, I  should know what she needs.  I should have known she was struggling.  I should have trusted that nagging feeling that was telling me I wasn’t doing enough.

I don’t know if I will ever be able to do enough.

Follow up

This is really quick because I am recovering from L’s 2.5 hour occupational therapy evaluation (seriously, that is a freaking LONG time).  I am planning a post about that soon, but probably not this afternoon.

But in response to a couple comments on the last post:

What I actually think was going on at the Chinese restaurant is that the guy was saying to L: “I see you and you are one of us, even though you have that white mom.”

That doesn’t bother me at all.  Having been with Mr. A for a billion years now, I am familiar with that checking-in process that he gets from other Asians and particularly other Chinese Americans who we meet in passing.  It is like that “I see you” nod from across the room, only L is little so you have to actually talk to her.

Actually, I am really GLAD when L is acknowledged and claimed by Chinese adults.  M too, for that matter.

The part that was kind of funny about it was that I am pretty sure the guy was thinking some not-so-flattering things about me as a white mom to a Chinese kid.  Again, as someone who doesn’t claim to be able to teach my kid how to be Chinese (because I am not Chinese), I understand his unspoken criticism.  He is right, what business do I have raising a Chinese kid?

It was just when I repeated the questions he asked with what I hope were decent tones and knowing what he had said,  I think he looked pretty surprised.   (I had to repeat them because he had a bit of a dialecty accent in Chinese and L barely recognizes standard Mandarin, not to mention the fact that she is three and generally unwilling to talk to strangers unless prodded.)

So I think when he saw that L was clearly learning Chinese, he was impressed.  I think even if he was not impressed by our Chinese skills, he was pleased that I was making an effort for L to learn Chinese at all.  The “You are a very good mother.” comment was funny because I think he was thinking I wasn’t a good mother right before that (or at least not a good mother for L).

Conspicuous

I can only remember a small handful of negative interactions about L’s adoption in the past three years.  But last week, I had a couple different adoption drive-by comments that I wasn’t expecting.  I think my guard was down  while I was distracted by the move.

The first incident happened at Chinese Club.  One of M’s older teachers asked me a question about adopting from China. She has a Chinese (1st generation immigrant)  friend who has one bio daughter, but would like another child.  The friend is in her forties, so she thought about adopting from China.

“She wants another baby,” said the teacher, “but she said to me: ‘what if I adopt one and then something happens to my own daughter? (i.e. she dies)  I wouldn’t even want to look at that new baby because she would remind me of my real daughter and I would hate her.’”

“Uh, I think you should discourage your friend from adopting.” I said.

The teacher went on to tell me a saying in Chinese that means something like “Your real mother is the one who took care of you, blood bonds do not give you any feeling of love.”  She went on to explain that I would feel nothing if I had given M away at birth.  I would only have love for L.

She told us this in front of L and a couple of other adopted kids.

I told her I had to disagree, that both kinds of motherhood are important and there are many kinds of love (love grown out of hard work, love from a biological connection, etc.).  Needless to say, I changed the subject as quickly as I could.

The other situation happened at the mall.  I rarely go to the mall, but I took the girls there to play on the indoor playground while the buyers were doing their finally walk through.   I sat M down in the food court with a piece of pizza while I took L to get some noodles at the Chinese restaurant.

“Ooooh, NI HAO!” the cashier said to L once he caught sight of her wandering around below the counter, “Ni hao ma?”  (How are you?)

L looked momentarily confused, but I poked her and said “He said ‘Ni hao ma?’  what do you say?”

“Wo hen hao?” she said.  (I am good.”)

The guy looked really surprised.

“Ni ji sui le?” he said.  (How old are you?)

Again, I had to repeat the question and prod L a little, but eventually she squeaked out “Wo san sui!”  (I am three years old!)

“Would you like some kuaizi?” he said, “Kuaizi are chopsticks.”

“I like kuaizi!” L said as she grabbed them and ran off to find M.

The man looked me up and down.  “You are a very good mother.” he said, sounding quite surprised to be saying it.

I felt like I had been given a test and had passed it, without ever knowing what was happening.

These kinds of things happen to us so rarely, sometimes I forget that people around us are looking at our family and making assumptions/drawing conclusions/thinking effed up things.

No Imposition

I am finally at a point in my life where I am starting to accept myself.  I am giving up on the possibility that I am going to become greatly improved at some point in the future. I am who I am, even if that person is irritating sometimes.

While we were moving, I had the opportunity to reflect on one particularly annoying trait of mine:  the inability to accept help when it is offered.

I reflected on this on the day I borrowed my dad’s truck and schlepped six truckload of boxes from the old house to the new house all by myself and also on the two long days I spent painting the girls’ bedrooms.

I had no less than FOUR offers of help.  I did not accept any.

What the effity eff?  I could smack myself.  That was a lot of really hard work which would have gone much faster with a second (or third or fourth) pair of hands.

(And let’s note here these were completely unsolicited offers of help. God forbid I should actually ASK someone to help me out with something.  I think the world would stop spinning.)

While my mom and I are very different, I think her over-concern about not imposing on other people has rubbed off on me.  I think a solid half of her parenting revolved around making sure I did not impose on other people’s time or space and that I tried my best not to inconvenience anyone else (no matter how much those efforts might inconvenience me).

It makes no sense, because I like to help other people.   I would happily carry boxes or paint.  I wouldn’t feel put out by being asked to do those things.  I would most likely feel pretty good about being a good friend.

My mom is a specific kind of very standoffish Midwesterner.  She neither needs nor wants many friends.  Her strategy of not ever being noticed/not imposing/not creating debts works for her, I guess.  She has spent her life creating barriers to closeness and not putting herself in situations where she might cause the slightest inconvenience to someone else.

I, on the other hand, like to have a group of people I feel close to.  I understand that there needs to be reciprocity in relationships.  I don’t consciously believe that helping someone out creates an uncomfortable obligation (at least not when I am the one doing the helping).

(I could write an entire essay on the issues she gave me around making phone calls, because I always feel like I am intruding so I would rather not call anyone at all.  And don’t even get me started on my discomfort with hugging friends.  I could go on all day.)

It is totally dumb that I let her weird hang ups about not imposing on people seep into my psyche.  It is also totally dumb that I carried all those boxes and painted for hour upon hour alone.  It was boring and stupid.

I don’t know if I can change my unwillingness to accept help at this point, but at the very least I can call a spade a spade.  That is a weird, counter-productive personality trait.