Where the Money Goes

We have a neighbor who keeps criticizing the condition of my house.  Among his observations:  We need new windows.  The porch steps aren't being repaired quickly enough.  We need to paint the exterior.  But on second thought, we should just get vinyl siding.  Etc. Etc. Etc.

I suppose that if we were amazing and old like him, and we had grown up in a time when people made a living wage and their unions made sure that their employers paid for their health insurance, and only one member of the household had to hold a job, and a college degree was a luxury and those who were working on one could work a summer job to pay for the next year's tuition, and people still had money to save at the end of the month, perhaps we'd have been able to plan better and we'd have the money to get a grand paint job and hire someone to finish the porch at lightning speed and put in some shiny, clean, energy saving new windows.  But we grew up with Reagan and Bush--both of the Bushes--so never mind all that.

I guess I just don't manage my money well enough, eh?

I am terrible at managing my money.  Let me come clean and horrify you with the breakdown.

I take my kids to science classes at the Great Lakes Science Center and the Cleveland Museum of Natural History so that they can learn the constellations, dissect starfish, watch giant Omnimax films about wild animals, and put together jars of water and clay and stones to see how the earth settles into sedimentary layers.

I get pool passes and swimming lessons so that we can spend all damn day at the pool getting good doses of exercise, vitamin D, and books.

I buy ballet shoes and send my daughter off to dance her little heart out.

I buy baseball mitts and watch my son run bases all summer.

I let my daughter get pink streaks dyed into her hair so that someday when she wants to do something her parents would consider rebellious, she will have to just go to mass or something lame like that.

I expedite shipping on my daughter's outgrown shoes, as well as the hair barrettes she has grown too old for, so that my cousin's little girl can enjoy them, too.

I pay extra for fresh, organic food so that my family will be healthy and will not go hungry.

I tip more than 20% to servers because they make less than $3 an hour.

I take the kids to ride roller coasters at Cedar Point.

I buy apps like Oregon Trail for the iPad.

I take friends to yoga.

I buy books.

I throw birthday parties.

I take my children to see The Hobbit in the theater.  And I let them buy expensive popcorn because it is part of the experience.

I let the kids buy overpriced hot dogs at Indians games.

I send the cub scout to day camp.

I buy plants and seeds and mulch and humus so that I can grow beautiful and tasty things, then share them with  the people I love.

I let the kids get Icees when we go to Target.

I get the grande soy latte at Starbucks, because dammit, I deserve it.

I pay a majority of the bills so that my husband can get the education he was meant to get.

And I go to yoga so that I can (more) gracefully cope with people like my neighbor.  And I bought a top notch mat, too--because I'm serious about this shit.  

So I am sorry that the paint is peeling on my house, and that the muffler on my car is loud, and that the porch is an abomination against your senses.  It must be awful to have to live near that, to see and hear it every day.  But in the meantime, I'll be enjoying some Zen with my kids at the pool.

This is my daughter, wasting money on water so she can run through the sprinkler.  We could have spent that money on paint.