About Me, budgeting, Family Life, large family

The cost of having kids

October 27, 2018

Let’s start by stating the obvious: finances are pretty personal, and as such, everybody’s circumstances are going to look a little different. What seems like an insane amount of risk/exposure looks like daily life for another family. What seems like a nice, healthy income starts to seem a little anemic once you figure in the cost of living and housing in a hot market.

We started riding the Dave Ramsey train before we got married. We read through Total Money Makeover as an engaged couple, knocking out tens of thousands of dollars of debt (almost all of it student loans) in our first 5 years of marriage. We cash flowed our first two babies, lived in sketchy rentals, drove a single car, side hustled, etc, etc. We were ALL IN. And it worked really, really well until we pulled up our roots, sold all our worldly possessions, and moved half a world away to Rome.

After we returned to the US the following year and added baby number three to the mix, we started to see our debt snowball lose momentum. We had sold our (paid off) sensible sedan before our big move, and we found ourselves needing a car to live in the suburbs with 3 kids. We bought a well-used minivan and just like that we had a car payment again for the first time in years.

Time and babies have continued to pile up, and now we’re five kids deep and living in a wonderful home of our own that we hope to be buried in, because that’s about how long it will take us to pay off the mortgage.

We’re mostly happy we bought, except on the day that the mortgage payment is due.

I get a lot of questions about how we “afford” so many kids, and the short answer is: we don’t.

We’re probably overextended from a financial perspective. And yet, we have never gone without.

Working for the Church isn’t exactly lucrative, but it sure is nice getting sent to Rome every year or two for one reason or another.

Having kids is a pretty tremendous upfront cost, but hand-me-down baby stuff comes in handy for subsequent arrivals.

Daycare is exorbitant, but working from home during early mornings and late nights makes it possible to live on one-and-a-half incomes and avoid it.

A good Catholic school is expensive, but having a larger family enables us to apply for – and receive – generous financial aid.

All that to say, things seem to have had a way of working out. As I creep more solidly into my mid-30s, I’m happy we didn’t wait to have kids, or space them further apart.

I’m grateful we weren’t in a position where we felt like we had too.

I think being from large families ourselves, we both accepted early on that having kids meant going without certain things, and saying yes to being uncomfortable. I don’t mean like settling for mediocrity or being reckless, but just having a baseline level of familiarity with the unknown and a little bit of risk.

We’re both working like crazy to get our income up and to pay our debt down, but in the meantime, we’re still having babies, making memories, and learning how to perform a bunch of basic home repairs courtesy of Youtube.

What we don’t spend on lessons, activities, sports, and toys we definitely do spend at the grocery store and in doctor’s copays. We aren’t really saving for retirement or college, but I imagine we’ll get around to it once we’ve finally paid off my degree.

This has ended up forcing us to depend on God in a tangible way, and we’ve seen Him do some pretty remarkable things for us financially over the years.

I feel like it’s worth mentioning that we’ve been committed to tithing ten percent of our income for most of our marriage; it really does seem to open up space for God to work. I don’t mean like He’s magically multiplying our dollar signs (but come Lord Jesus, have your way with those), rather that there is room for Him to work because we need Him to work. We feel a little crazy making that first line item in our budget His, but we’ve never regretted spending “too much” on God.

(Some great causes to give to: FOCUS, the International Missionary Foundation, China Little Flower, Our Lady of Lourdes Catholic Classical, and CNEWA.)

Do I worry about how we’ll be able to continue to afford Catholic school? Yep. But I volunteer as much as I’m able, support our school financially as best as we can, and gratefully accept the financial aid they offer us, one school year at a time.

Am I worried about what would happen if one of us were to die young? Definitely. Our life insurance premiums are a priority in our budget, even while we’re still paying off those student loans.

I try not to get too far ahead of the present when I think about our family, the future, and what we’ll need when we get there.

We’re trying to strike a balance between prudence and generosity, and to work as if everything depends on us but, you know, trust like everything depends on God.

I will say my stress over finances has decreased as our family size has increased, and I have no earthly reason for that. I guess I’ve mellowed with age? Or perhaps it is the repeated exposure to divine providence; presenting the Lord with one need after another and watching Him come through, time and time again, in a spectacular variety of ways.

If you have any specific questions feel free to ask them, and I’ll try my best to answer in a way that’s helpful. Obviously this isn’t an exhaustive list of all the expenses of having kids, and people have different priorities and consider different areas of the budget to be less negotiable than others. Eager to hear what other big or bigger than average families experience in the realm of personal finance!

About Me, budgeting, Family Life, large family

That budget life

August 8, 2018

I’ve talked about finances here on the blog a time or two, but I’m ready to talk a bit more frankly. After the financial fiasco that hit our sewer line last week drained our itty bitty emergency fund (but could have been much, much worse, as you know if you follow me on Insta), I decided the time had come to officially call the postpartum period closed for business.

(And by that I mean the period of making declarations along the lines of “I just had a baby, so I deserve this carry-out iced coffee.”)

I possibly do deserve that coffee, but I can throw a handful of ice cubes into the conveniently-cooled mug that has been sitting on the kitchen table since breakfast and call it good.

In the name of transparency let’s address the reality that yes, we are solidly middle class. We have health insurance and wifi and my husband has a job that compensates him fairly for his work, and yet, we are still basically paycheck to paycheck. We do live in an expensive housing market, and we do have a large family, so that tightens the belt a bit right off the bat.

Could we cut back and be a bit more financially sure-footed? I think so. Which is what I’m aiming to do for the next four months, between now and Christmas.

We are not likely going to be getting massive pay raises any time soon, so I have to take a clear eyed look at the budget and admit why it isn’t working better. One word: convenience.

It’s convenient to buy already-shredded cheese. It’s convenient to buy disposable diapers, and baby food in pouches, and sparkling water in cans that could possibly have paid off one of my student loans by now if I had a dollar for every can of LaCroix I’ve ever guzzled. But looking backwards in carbonated regret is no way to live one’s life.

But, I mean, it’s embarrassing. I live a life of relative ease – luxury, even, by much of the world’s standards – and yet when faced with a potential home repair quoted (thankfully, erroneously) into the thousands, my life as I knew it flashed before my eyes. Would we pull the kids out of school to pay for it? Sell one of our cars? Get a second job at night for a couple months? Take out (yet another) credit card?

Thanks be to God, the company who quoted us the repair ended up being shady. So what could have cost us $7,000 ended up costing about a tenth of that.

Still, it was a wake up call. I want to be a better steward of our resources, and to help alleviate some of the pressure of being the primary provider from Dave’s shoulders.

I also just don’t want to worry about money any more. It’s fun to eat out and carry around a paper cup of steaming, liquid alertness. But I imagine it’s more fun to be able to go grocery shopping any day of the month, and to have a failed transmission be an annoyance rather than a tragedy.

Want a peek at where we’ll be cutting back? Here are the things on the chopping block:

My gym membership. OUCH. But not really. I prefer walking to swimming, it turns out, and if my body ever feels sufficiently recovered from birth, I think I’d prefer running even more. Swimming is great, but it wasn’t getting the weight off, and it’s a huge time suck to get a workout in. Minimum 75 minutes to get there/get in and out/swim a mile. Plus, we can’t afford the kids club for 5 kids, so I can only go at 5 am or 9 pm.

Takeout coffee. I love Starbucks. I know better and I have tasted better, but what can I say? As a dog returns to its vomit…

Eating out, period. We go on 2 dates a month because we swap childcare with one of my sisters. It’s awesome, but I think we’re going to pull back to eating at home first and then springing for “coffee or cocktails” for the scope of this project. (Date night funds come from a separate cash category than eating out. I’m aiming for $50/month or less for date nights).

Buying crap at Arc/Goodwill/Craigslist. I am an amazing thrifter. My kids have great shoes, I’ve scored some killer furniture deals, and we have a great and growing classic chapter books library. But I can get dangerously loose at the Arc. One thing leads to another and before I know it I’ve got awesome Nike soccer cleats for the next 2 seasons and another adorable Aden and Anais swaddle in organic muslin and 3 cute tops for Evie in my cart and…you see where I’m going with this. I might have to swear off the thrift stores entirely while we’re in belt tightening mode, so alluring is their siren call to me. I think thrift stores are for me what Target is to most moms.

Speaking of Target...well, not Target specifically, but brick n mortar stores, period. I’m going to take our local grocery store, King Soopers, up on their offer of 4 free uses of their curbside delivery program.

When I’m walking through a store, I tend to toss in unplanned items that I forgot to add to the list, plus the occasional box of diaper wipes just because can you ever have too many diaper wipes on hand? No, no you can not. But maybe I can slum it with a different and cheaper brand than the Huggies Naturals I’ve been faithful to since we brought home baby number one. Not gonna do the math on that one, because hindsight! It’s blinding! I am also hoping shopping only one time per week at a single store will help trim costs.

Starting/cooking dinner earlier than 4 pm. I am a notoriously reluctant cook. And I lose steam as the day progresses. A day that starts out with a hot breakfast may well end with frozen waffles, or some other convenience food that doesn’t actually fill anyone up. Cue wailing and gnashing of teeth at 9 pm and a whole fourth meal’s worth of snacks before bed. This morning I made the Pioneer Woman’s Sunday Night Stew at 10 am, and now it’s done same as I am.

Finally, we’d like to contribute to our parish capital campaign to renovate our ugly church, but haven’t been able to see much wiggle room in our budget. Suddenly things are feeling a bit looser.

I’m curious to see what other people’s “luxuries” are. I assume if you have internet access you have at least a few of them in your life. Maybe a whole lot fewer than we do, or maybe more. Are you debt free? We’re hoping to become so eventually – using that smart financial program you’ve seen me chatting up on IG, Wallet Win. Have you paid off your student loans yet, or would you like to do so before your kids start incurring their own? Kicked your Starbucks habit? Whipped up 101 different rice and beans recipes you’re dying to share with me?

About Me, budgeting, self care, social media

Habits, virtue, and making it easy to be good

April 12, 2018

I almost worked “self discipline” into this title, but to be perfectly frank, habit is getting me much further than self discipline during this particular season of life.

I’m at the point in fluffy not-quite-middle-age where if something is going to happen that is good for me, be it spiritual or physical in nature, I nearly always have to trick myself into doing it.

I could fib and say this is only because my domestic obligations are at an all-time high or that I’m suffering from that familiar fourth-trimester sleep deprivation, but the more accurate explanation is that I’m lazy.

How can a mom with five kids and a job be lazy? Oh, it’s pretty easy, actually. It looks like sending my older kids to fetch diapers while I sit plopped on the couch scrolling through my phone. It looks like falling asleep in bed while reading because I am “too tired” to pray. It looks like making a bad food choice at lunch and then mentally shrugging at 4 p.m. when confronted with leftover chocolate chip granola bars from the carnage of after school snack time and telling myself “I’ll start over with good food choices tomorrow” before popping the detritus in my mouth.

Since I lack sorely in self discipline and rightly-ordered passions, I’ve noticed that if I make the good things I’m trying to accomplish sort of idiot-proof, I’ve a much higher incidence of success.

So, for example, during Lent I got into the habit of putting a cute decorative tote basket in front of my place at the dining room table each night which contained my prayer materials: Bible, copy of the catechism, Blessed is She planner, and the Take Up and Read Lenten journal. Because it was there in my face as soon as I came downstairs to sit with my coffee, I dug in and had a little prayer time most mornings, however sparse it might end up being per my darlings’ demands. On the mornings when I’d forgotten to move the basket from it’s daytime perch in the bay window? Nada. I would sit 5 feet away sipping my morning cappuccino and stare at that sucker and prayer time would.not.happen.

Another example. I’m dehydrated more often than not from a strict regimen of breastfeeding, coffee guzzling, kid wrangling, and a strange aversion to filling simple glasses of water to drink from. Some days I would get to dinner time with a pounding headache and realize that I had maybe – maybe – consumed 12 ounces of water all day in the form of a single can of LaCroix. As POTUS would tweet, SAD! Very Disappointing!

I picked up a $4 glass water bottle with a sippy top at Marshall’s last month and started carrying it around the house with me and, what do you know, I’m drinking close to 100 ounces of H2O these days. Sad, right? But also really effective.

I’ve started to do the same thing with exercise. Feeling a little burnt out on my walking routine without Starbucks dangling at the end of the route like a luxurious carrot (more on that later) I was finding my strolls around the neighborhood a little less enticing. I did the math on what I was saving in burnt cups of coffee in a month and reckoned that I could probably afford a basic gym membership to the club down the street if I were completely coffee-shop abstinent. (My entire “fun” category every month is spent on takeout coffee. Speaking of sad…)

So I dug out an old black speedo from a few summers back, tossed a swim cap and a pair of goggles into my purse, and took the plunge, literally. I logged close to 200 laps last week, all because I’ve arranged the necessary materials and started forcing myself to leave the house precisely at 7 p.m. on the nights when it works for our schedule, promising Dave and myself to be back in 60 minutes. It gives me enough time to get the babies to bed and leaves him with some quality time with the older set at the end of the day.

Habit builds on habit. And I’d venture further, saying that virtue builds on habit. When I’m already being good, it’s easier to continue being good.

When I have that big glass of wine on a school night (biiiiig mistake at age 35) I know that the next morning it’s going to be harder to get up to pray. And that if I don’t get up to pray, I’ll probably yell at my kids at some point during the day. And that we’ll be so burnt out on each other’s company from all that yelling that by 4 p.m. that I’ll succumb to the Netflix sirens and surrender my laptop while I cook dinner, feeling hassled and defeated.

I remember hearing Fr. Michael Scanlan, the spiritual powerhouse behind the revitalization of Franciscan University, tell parents during an orientation video that Steubenville was intended to be a place where it was “easy to be good.” By that he meant not that we would be so constrained by rules and regulations that we would have no choice but to behave, but that there would be so many options for choosing the good – and so much positive peer pressure to do so – that it would become a real hotbed of virtue and excellence simply because the true, good, and beautiful was readily available. 24 hour adoration? Check. Three or four daily Mass options a day? Check. Intramural and community building activities through Households and dozens of ministry opportunities? Check.

So yeah, you could show up there a hardened party girl and stay that way, no problem, (Lee’s Place or Jaggin’ Around, anyone?) but you could also throw yourself headlong into the transformative atmosphere of excellence that permeated the campus, and ease into a routine of virtue that was considerably less challenging than the previous four years I’d spent stumbling drunkenly through the more typical college experience at a major public school.

So I’m trying to create a vice-proof, virtue and habit supportive environment in my own home where I am the boss, after all, making it more foolproof for me to misbehave, and less likely to fall headlong into a bag of Doritos* and a late-night Instagram binge session. (Note: Doritos are on the ever-expanding list of things I’ve come to realize that I just can’t have in the house.)

A couple other hacks I’m employing as training wheels right now as we transition from newborn survival mode to new normal:

No alcohol on weeknights (unless it’s a major feast day or a date night)
3 non-negotiable exercise sessions a week. Doesn’t matter how long they take or what I do, just that I do them.
Instagram only on Tuesday, Thursday, and Saturday mornings. (I uninstall the app from my phone and reinstall it on those days. Sad? You betcha. Effective? Indeed.)
No Facebook or Twitter at all. Just posting content there as I create it and then walking away, so to speak.
No shopping at Target or Costco, for the moment. (Diapers and wipes from Amazon, because I am not tempted to overspend when I shop online, whereas walking into brick and mortar is like entering the lion’s den for my budget.)
Grocery shopping only on Fridays. Y’all, this one has been HARD. But it’s helping our budget so much. I think I probably saved almost $200 last month from cutting out all the “just one quick thing” trips that always, always result in at least $40 of “oh, yeahs!”

I feel like my thirties have seen me get super into self-knowledge and understanding temperament and personality type (INTJ and choleric/melancholic, for what it’s worth) in an attempt to reprogram the direction of my own life. I guess I’ve been waiting for years and years to just magically “change” or grow out of ___, when actually I’m pretty much the same person I was at 18. I haven’t become more naturally disciplined to go to bed earlier, or less interested in french fries, or more eager to make phone calls I’m dreading. So instead of waiting for me to change, I guess I’m focusing more on “acting as if,” hoping that my tired old self will come plodding along down the path of least resistance I’m working to create. Hey, it works with my kids and a 4 p.m. veggie platter deployed against the whining “I’m huuuuungries” that interrupt dinner prep!

What habit-building hacks have you employed that have made noticeable improvements in your life? Is there an area you thought you’d never see improvement where you’ve been surprised by growth – and grace?

About Me, budgeting, self care, THM

Trim Healthy Mama hacks: cheap and cheats

November 7, 2016

One of the most frequent questions I’ve gotten about THM since I first mentioned it back in August has been “can you do this on a budget?” And to that I answer a hearty “yes,” yes you can. I did buy a couple of the recommended “specialty” ingredients when I first got started (and I bought the THM brand of them because having it land on my porch 4 days later was easier than hitting up Whole Foods or Natural Grocers, and cheaper too) and I’ve been happy with them. But, aside from the collagen powder, I actually don’t think they’re necessary to do the plan well.

I have fallen in love with the collagen stirred into my black espresso in the morning and it has made my nails fantastically indestructible and long. Like pregnancy long. My hair has yet to be impacted, but I have big dreams. Big dreams, I tell you.

Anyway, in retrospect, were I to do it over (and when I do reorder in a couple months) I will probably only get the collagen again. I also bought their gelatin, the super sweet stevia/xylitol blend, and their whey powder. I do use the whey powder in my smoothies occasionally, but I can’t detect a real difference whether or not I do. The sweet blend is fine for sprinkling into drinks or adding to aforementioned smoothies, but I don’t like it in baked goods and my kids don’t like it in everything. The gelatin I just find to be redundant when I am already using the collagen so much. And since it “sets” when cooled, it makes leftover stew turn (temporarily) into jello when refrigerated, which is kind of entertaining but also kind of gross.

Some of my real staples for doing this plan, however, are just regular grocery store items that haven’t impacted our budget bottom line at all. Here are some of my absolute necessities for making THM work for me:

Frozen okra. This one I was majorly skeptical about, but it actually does have the magical, thickening quality they talk about in the book and it actually does make smoothies taste like milkshakes and gives chilis and soups a restaurant-quality mouthfeel. It is completely tasteless to me, so I use it with reckless abandon in white chicken chili and chocolate peanut butter smoothies alike. My King Soopers (maybe Kroger to you) sells it for $.99/bag in the frozen section, and I go through about a bag every 2 weeks. It’s dirt cheap.

Peanut powder. This was one of those ingredients I rolled my eyes haaaaard over when reading about it in their encyclopedic book. Because come on, live a little. Peanut butter is awesome.

Well, peanut butter is awesome, but in THM world it’s also always a crossover food because it’s loaded with fat and carbs. So it’s not a good weight loss option. (Duh? But what can I say, I have the palate of a 5 year old.) I found this Jif brand pressed peanut powder that has about 80% of the calories and really most of the flavor of peanut butter. Allegedly you can add water to it and reconstitute it to approximate something spreadable, but since I don’t hate myself I’ve kept to stirring it into smoothies and yogurt.

Which brings me to my next favorite: Oikos triple zero greek yogurt. I’m late to the greek yogurt fan club because frankly, what’s the big deal about yogurt? Well, when ice cream is off the table, yogurt suddenly looks pretty dang good. This stuff is on plan and tastes great when mixed with either the peanut powder I mentioned or straight dark cocoa powder (I prefer Trader Joe’s brand). It’s a satisfying “dessert” kind of thing after dinner, or it’s a good standalone snack in it’s own right. I can find these for about $3.50 per 4-pack at the store, so they’re not dirt cheap, but they’re a sight more affordable than Ben and Jerry’s or anything at Starbucks.

Speaking of the green monster. Listen, I try to use my consumer dollars to advocate for truth and justice and the American way as often as I can, but when fall rolls around I am putty in the hands of the PSL. But the PSL (that’s pumpkin spice latte for you non basic b’s out there) is emphatically not THM approved. I actually can’t think of a diet or wellness plan that artificial pumpkin sauce does fit nicely into, come to think of it…but, BUT. Sometimes you need a PSL. And so I give you:

“Poor mom’s PSL” (also works great for peppermint mocha!)

-order a short (that’s child sized but trust me, it’s plenty of caffeine and sugar) dark roast. Right now Thanksgiving blend is my jam

-add one small (definitely emphasize to them the smallness) pump of pumpkin puree

-ask for room for cream and top off with milk of your choice. I like half n half because I’m not significantly motivated to get to a size 8.

You will spend around $2 and you will consume around 1/4 the calories of a traditional handcrafted beverage, depending on what milk you choose. This is not strict THM by any stretch of the imagination, but it’s a lot closer to “on plan” than bombing through a grande PSL with 600 calories and 19 grams of sugar in it.

A few more must-haves for getting through the day and feeling full and satisfied:

avocados

nitrate free turkey/ham (Trader Joe’s has this for about $3.99/pack, which I can stretch about 5 lunches)

mustard and mayo (and ranch because I’m a forever cheater)

romaine hearts for making lettuce wraps (as low as $1.99 for a 3 pack and will make endless lettuce wraps)

eggs. Just so many eggs.

your favorite cheese.

old fashioned GF oats (I eat small portions of this when I eat it so it’s still considered on plan)

sweet potatoes

chicken thighs or breasts, baked ahead of time (thighs would be considered S meals most of the time)

a pot of chili or chicken tortilla soup (minus the tortillas. Sob.)

And that’s basically it. I eat pretty similar looking meals from day to day, and I don’t feel hungry. I also cheat a lot. Like, maybe I’m on plan 75% of the time? Some days are more cheat-y than others, but this still seems to work. I think the biggest reason is that when I do eat “off plan,” I just acknowledge that “you know, this Chipotle taco is off plan” and then I go back to eating the fats/carbs separated way at my next meal time. Usually I bomb off of restrictive diets after a bad date night or birthday party or event…you know the shame spiral of doom of which I speak?

I hope this is helpful to someone out there thinking about giving it a go. I would strongly encourage you to try it now and don’t worry about Thanksgiving and Christmas because guess what? I am going to eat a pound of mashed potatoes and gluten free pumpkin pie and not give any cares. And then on black Friday/boxing day? Back to the plan.

I do want to say that I think one reason this has worked so well for me is because nothing is outright “illegal” or “bad,” except for white sugar and white flour (which I can’t eat anyway, and which I acknowledge to be harmful in the first place.) I’ve struggled with weight and body image issues for most of my life, and a big chunk of time was lost to the abusive demands of an eating disorder. For that reason I tend to not do well with super restrictive diets for the sake of diet, like the Whole 30. It puts me back into a mental place of “good food/bad food,” and I almost always end up rebelling by eating something naughty around day 20 and then just blowing it.

For whatever reason, THM has clicked really well in my brain and has actually helped to repair my relationship with food. I have self control and moderation that I’d kind of given up ever feeling, and best of all it’s really easy to derail the shame spiral of “oh no I ate something I wasn’t supposed to” by just shrugging it off and starting fresh at the next meal.

Here’s a little progress snap from trick or treating last weekend, when I want dressed as these fine ladies

and nobody in my family got it, so I untucked my shirt and took off my belt and just looked vaguely middle aged and haggard. But in pearls.

I don’t think it’s magical. I think it’s about blood sugar control. And I think the weird carb/fat separation rule essentially keeps your blood sugar in check more than anything else, because by nature you can’t really overdo it on carbs and eat the foods they recommend you eat. But I’m not too sure that any of us – food sensitivities or not – should be eating white flour or sugar every day, let alone at every meal. I’ve talked about it with a friend who’s also dabbling in the plan and we think what it comes down to is “eating like a grown up.” And grown ups don’t get to eat french fries every day. Or pancakes. Which is admittedly sad, but then again, once a week french fries are still good!

I’m down about 19 pounds since starting this in August (and more than 50(!!) since Luke was born, incidentally), and I think I have about 20 to go. I’m holding out on Old Navy until I can comfortably rock the size 10 jeans and making do with some questionable jeggings from Rome and baggy 12’s for now, but I did buy a handful of size M tops at a thrift store last week, and fitting into a Gap medium feels huge. Yuge, I tell you.

budgeting

Are you comfortable talking finances? {+ a giveaway with Bona Fide Finance}

October 21, 2016

A little over 6 months ago a sweet friend from grad school and a long time blog reader reached out to me with an offer. Her husband had started a financial advising business, and would I be interested in sitting through several (e)sessions with him to go over our particular financial situation?

Was I ever.

I knew that Deb and Ben had made the radical decision after college to become long haul truck drivers (both of them!) while they were newlyweds, and that by criss crossing the nation they’d paid down the considerable student debt that is generally awarded along with a Steubenville diploma. How could I not be curious to take financial counsel from a guy like that?

The truth is, while we’ve been dabbling in Dave Ramsey for the bulk of our married life, and while we’ve steadfastly avoided adding debt of any kind (ahem, well, except for that little mortgage…thing…we picked up last month) we haven’t managed to completely extricate ourselves from the student loan companies. Yet. And add to that a quick 4 babies in 5 years, an international move, and more than 6 years of renting in an increasingly hot (read: expensive) market, and I was feeling like we were just treading water financially.

I feel an immense debt (<— see what I did there) of gratitude to the internet, for all its faults and foibles, because by its power, I am able to work from home, and I do so utilizing fringe hours and nap times that translate to minimal childcare costs. So we’re in better shape than we could be, all things considered.

But we still needed some guidance at moving beyond the route formula Dave Ramsey espouses (however effective it may be) and making some actual, real-life changes.

For example: was it wise to continue contributing nothing to our 401k match programs? Dave Ramsey says not to, not until the debt is gone. But meanwhile, we’d let nearly 7 years of full time employment for both of us come and go, contributing not a dime of our own to our employer’s match. I think this was a case of following the letter rather than the spirit of the law, at least in our case, but it was a situation that needed to change. Talking the bigger financial picture through with Ben helped us to see that while in an ideal world, to blast through debt and achieve total freedom in 18 months would be fantastic, we have a relatively large family, live in one of the more expensive cities in the country, and our kids are in private school. And we both work for the Church. So, in a nod to reality, we decided to start contributing even though we’re still paying off my last student loan.

We also made the decision to add some (much needed) long term disability insurance to our arsenal of risk management.

Ben reiterated what we already knew, that a man in his middle working years is 4 times more likely to become sick or disabled than to die prematurely. And while many people have life insurance (and everyone should!), far too few people have long term disability coverage. Our family would be devastated by the loss of Dave’s income if he were to become unable to work, plus, people who become disabled generally experience a significant increase in the cost of living coupled with the decline in earning potential. Not a great combo for a family of 6 to be looking at.

Ben also gently nudged us to consider paying attention to our actual budget – the one we determine “on paper on purpose” at the beginning of every month, and then actually living by it rather than logging into the online banking app and noting “oh, we’re totally fine, IKEA is definitely a good idea right now” and then continuing to wonder why we were blowing our bottom line every month. “Don’t look at the account balance. That doesn’t matter.” (I mean, provided it’s not in the red) What mattered, though, is what we’d decided to spend in each particular category, and then sticking with that decision. Even when some event/purchase/fun thing seemed like a good idea. Unless it was an actual emergency, it didn’t deserve to utterly annihilate our bottom line. (It should be noted that one of us – okay fine, it’s me – is still working on this particular concept.)

Our sessions with Ben took place over google hangout-style video conferencing sessions (some more technically difficult than others – probably thanks to our kid’s Netflix streaming) and it was actually more convenient than in person sessions when you figure in the hassle of travel + schedule synching + childcare. Ben was able to virtually meet with us at 7 or 8 in the evening, once the minions were (allegedly) in bed.

If I had to do it over, I would have liked to have spent more time gleaning his wisdom on specific investment questions and understanding retirement options, and probably would have spent less time weeping about the cost of housing in Denver and asking WHAT DO YOU THINK WE SHOULD DO (last summer was a little personally challenging) about our real estate woes. But Ben was so great. He was confident, personable, really sensitive to our particular situation and just a lot of fun to work with.

His business, Bona Fide Finance, is founded on the principle that all people deserve access to quality financial advising, no matter their earning potential. Schoolteachers and church workers and electricians and dental hygienists still all have money to manage, and they have questions about retirement and investing, too. Ben believes that financial soundness isn’t a concept only accessible to the wealthy, and indeed that people of more modest means perhaps have an even greater need for solid financial advising.

He has generously offered to give to one of my lucky readers … a Bona Fide Basic plan (a $1750 value!) to one rafflecopter winner, and he wanted to extend a 15% discount off of all services to any readers who schedule an Introductory Meeting (Click here to schedule. Under “Your note” when providing your contact information, type the code “MamaNeeds15%”.)

So enter the rafflecopter giveaway below, cross your fingers, fill in that monthly budgeting spreadsheet you’ve been meaning to update since July, and may the odds be ever in your favor.

a Rafflecopter giveaway

About Me, budgeting, decluttering, design + style, thrifting

Blooming in rented soil

April 1, 2016

Hi, I’m Jenny and I’m a closet real estate junkie. I devour episodes of House Hunters and read shelter magazines like 4 walls and a front door are going out of style. And I regularly nickel and dime our carefully-crafted monthly budget to death with “just one missing piece” or “a quick $11 tweak” to rooms in our house that I desperately want to love but feel hamstrung in so doing, because they are not actually mine.

(The irony of the very title of this post is not lost on me, because no matter whether our housing checks go to first mortgage of wherever or rental company, inc, aint none of us taking it with us. But bear with me.)

I love decorating. I love finding something and giving it new life with a fresh coat of paint or by introducing it to an unlikely partner and achieving style cohesion.

When the Nesting Place dropped a couple years back, I was all over that pretty little tome, even though until this morning, I’d actually only read it in black and white on ye trusty old Kindle. (Kinda ups the game to see her genius laid out in brilliant color. My bad, Myquillin.)

I eagerly incorporated her battle cry of “it doesn’t have to be perfect to be beautiful!” into every square inch of our cute, if beige, rental house.

This may not be my house, my internal monologue mused, but it’s going to look like it, gosh darn it. Even if I can’t change the wall colors or tear out every inch of (perfectly nice, but still horrifying with small children) carpet, or Joanna Gaines me some decent sight lines between the kitchen and dining room.

So I mixed and I matched. I scoured Saver’s and Goodwill and the clearance racks at Home Goods. I’ve even curb-picked a few gems from our neighbor’s ample front walkway. And over the past two-and-a-half years, I’ve turned this place into our home.

Bringing a couple more babies home into the mix hasn’t hurt to make it feel more official, either.

And yet, every month when I write that rental check, I have to tamp down a little surge of shame, or maybe it’s more like wounded pride.

This isn’t where a thirty-something family of 6 should be. We should be homeowners by now. When will we be grown ups?

Even just writing that out, it looks so ridiculous to me. Because it is ridiculous. We have clean water and secure jobs and healthy babies and 300 days of sunshine per year. And we live in a safe and walkable neighborhood that I have come to love. I can walk to the grocery store, our gym, and, quite recently, a craft brewery which welcomes children and goldfish crackers. Because Denver!

Of course, when I’m throwing my monthly mental pity party as I sign the check, I’m not usually thinking about the choices we’ve willingly made that have gotten us here, choices we would never dream of altering, even if we could. Living in Italy. Traveling abroad. Being open to 4 little souls who are even now mingling Legos and mac and cheese into a builder-grade paste which will cement itself to the side of my (free! hand-stained and refinished by us!) kitchen table.

I wouldn’t trade what we’ve done with our first 6 1/2 years of marriage for anything. And yet there’s still frustration as we crunch the numbers.

God has been so faithful. He continues to be so faithful, even as I question His path for us, frantically searching Redfin and Zillow for new listings as I nurse a sweet baby to sleep. I could be doing spiritual reading, or even staring blankly at a wall, and it would probably be better for my heart and soul than clicking on “just one more” listing, devouring data about square footage and interest rates and HOA fees like an addict.

I’ve some work to do in the contentment department, and I know there needs to be a day of reckoning for my heart which seems to vacillate wildly between “let’s eat rice 11 times a week while we save for a fantastic down payment” and “I just need to spend $75 on some patio furniture for our front porch so this feels more like home.”

Can’t have it both ways, Jenny.

Can’t have that Pinterest-perfect curated space of your dreams, updated as the styles and seasons change, and be hitting those financial goals you set with your patient and probably saintly husband.

So here’s my new missive: waiting. Waiting in joyful hope. Waiting in expectant peace, and believing that one more load of crap from the thrift store or the Target Dollar Spot is not going to make this place more home to us. And waiting on God’s timing and His clear directive that our next step is His next step.

I’m better at doing. But I can’t “do” my way into the kind of patience that grows gratitude. Which is a pity, really, because I’m rather handy with a hammer and spray paint.

budgeting, Family Life, motherhood

Budget Shopping at Trader Joe’s {with multiple kids in the tiny red cart}

January 14, 2016

I have a larger than average family now, which is still kind of whiplash inducing because I also have a young-ish marriage and student loans. But then I look in the mirror and the bagging and sagging confirms to me that I am indeed advancing into veteran territory, if not by actual mileage logged then by crash-course cumulative hours accrued. So.

I’ve made no secret that one of the secrets to happy(er) motherhood, for me, has been learning to do things with my kids, and okay, yes, sometimes in spite of them…but not to stop doing x or y simply because z minivan is filled to the brim.

Some examples of this include concert-going (when the venue permits), bar-hopping (when there’s space under the chair rail to accommodate a little car seat stashing, and, you guessed it, grocery shopping.

If you choose to prowl the aisles at 10pm for peace of mind and the luxury of an entire empty cart ready to receive your produce and dry goods, power to you. I have plenty of friends who can think of plenty of things they’d rather do besides take all – or any – of their kids shopping with them. And I get that, I really do.

Here’s my rationale though. As a consummate introvert who is always craving solitude and downtime and refreshment, I already find grocery shopping kind of overstimulating. Any kind of shopping, truth be told. So the difference between taking the kids with me or escaping for a solo trip is minimal in terms of stress relieved, for me. Sometimes I actually feel more panicky at the Bullseye sans offspring, because I have a limitless budget, if not of actual fund$, but of time and options. And that is stressful! Tell me you’ve ever gotten that shallow-breathed, chest tightening sensation as you piled stuff into your cart, realizing that the only limitation was your dwindling checking account balance? When I have a ticking toddler time bomb in my cart and a finite list of must-grabs, my competitive drive kicks in and my brain switches into mission mode. It’s go time. I’ve got a fever and the only prescription is more Joe’s O’s.

So there’s the useless backstory for you. Apologies for that.

I mainly shop these days at Costco and Trader Joe’s, two widely-disparate retail outlets if ever there were. One boasts the double cart, the membership card, and the bulk chicken breast offerings that will get a family of 6 safely through the month on a single meat run. The other? Carts so small that an elderly cat woman shopping solo can hardly gather enough provisions for her week.

But. There is something inherently good about Trader Joe’s precisely because of the limitations on size and selection. And that’s part of what keeps me coming back, along with the lack of preservatives and additives in their food and their rocking prices on organic. And Buttercup. Okay, and endless stickers and suckers and amazing staff who valet your groceries to your car, compliment your children, and return your cart for you, spouting off verbal affirmations all the while.

(Gosh, I’m long-winded this morning. I blame my newfound creative energy saved from social media abstinence.)

Anyway, we go about 6x’s/month to TJ’s, and here’s what I almost always and exclusively buy there:

Organic whole milk: at $5/gallon, it’s cheaper than any other organic option out there (we don’t have Aldi’s in Denver). And it’s delicious, or so I’m told by the 2 people in our household who can actually drink it. Luke has me in the ranks of the lactose intolerant these days, so I just cast a longing eye at the fatty white stuff while enjoying my …

Unsweetened vanilla almond milk: I’m sure there’s stuff in this that isn’t great for you, but my dairy free husband and preschooler love it/tolerate it, and it has fewer ingredients than the big-name varieties.

Cage free brown eggs: I prefer brown chickens, and from what I understand, if eggs are cage free and boast that little “California-something-something compliant” rating, the chickens are actually wandering around with a little grass under their talons. Which makes the eggs taste better, truly, and is better for the girls. And these average about $3.29/dozen, which is actually a great price, Avian flu considered. (We go through about 2-3 dozen/week. Don’t tell the FDA.)

Kerrygold butter: Luke won’t let me eat it lately, but it’s so good you almost tear up when spreading it on toast, and it’s $3 at TJ’s, which is $4 cheaper than almost any other store. I guess they have a noncompete clause with Leprechauns.

GF waffles: $1.99 for 8, they don’t taste terrible, and while nobody’s GF in our immediate family, these are also dairy free, and my nephew can eat them when he’s over.

Blue corn tortilla chips: because when they’re blue, they’re good for you! A lie I tell myself almost every day while eating tortilla chips for lunch. Whatever, they’re delicious.

Pineapple salsa: we legitimately burn through 2 jars of this in 2-3 days, then my kids moan until I replenish the supply. It only has 2 grams of sugar which is kind of shocking, and I’m choosing not to do the math on serving sizes and just rest on my responsible laurels with that number in mind.

Original hummus: $1.99 per container, my kids will eat almost any vegetable when dipped in hummus. The end.

Pizza dough/sauce/mozzarella cheese/pepperoni: for around $8 you can squeak out 2 big pizzas. We like to have the dough on hand ($1.29/bag and yes I know you can make your own for even less but time is money, people. And yeast is hard.) for making flat bread and for any surprise visits from my siblings, particularly Uncle Kenny who probably thinks it’s all we eat and who told me to write this blog post on how to shop at Trader Joe’s.

Tortellini and other dried pasta varietals: all their imported from Italy pastas are about as good as the real deal, but the tortellini stuffed with pesto is the bomb. And for under $2/package, it’s almost embarrassing how little you can spend on a really impressive Italian feast.

Basmati and/or jasmine rice: we have a huge 5 lb bag from Costco in the pantry right now which I’m not sorry about, but TJ’s has great prices on less Duggar-sized rice portions.

(Is anyone still interested? Is this the worst blog post I’ve ever written? Possibly. But watch it go viral on Pinterest…)

Beans, beans: black, pinto, great northern, garbanzo…they’ve got them all, and I buy 10 cans at a time and rinse them off before using them and pat myself on the back for still not ever learning how to soak and make my own beans. Because these bad boys are .$99 cents per can for organic, and whatever.

Peanut butter: their crunchy store brand is tolerably good, and has nothing besides peanuts and salt in it, which is how I like my fat spread.

Frozen veggies: sweet corn, french green beans, stir fry blend, mixed bell pepper blend, green peas. If you have those on hand, you can make basically any curry/fajita/stir fry dish on the planet. And they’re cheap and fresh.

coconut cream: I haven’t found a better tasting or better-priced option than this pantry staple that makes amazing curries and smoothies.

String cheese: “For the kids.” – K. McAllister

Uncured black forest ham: my kids eat … a lot of this. It is cheap, but not so cheap I fear that it includes ground goat meat.

California sprouted bread: almost as good as Ezekiel bread, which they no longer carry, and about half the price. Dairy free.

3-pack of dark (Belgian) chocolate bars: $1.49 and they are friggin delish. Vow to me right now never to eat Hershey’s chocolate again. Amen. p.s. they’re dairy freeeeee.

Produce: organic gala apples (usually $4/bag or less for about 8 of them, which is killer. And sometimes it’s as low as $1.99/bag!); clementines; navel oranges; bananas ($.19/apiece, which is really good); organic baby carrots (see how scattershot my organic-ing is? It’s not even dirty dozen driven, or whatever. It’s purely emotional/fiscal. #millenialparentingprobs); carrots of many colors (buy these, you won’t be sorry); pineapple; avocados; sweet onions; garlic; fresh basil (when it’s in stock, it’s under $2 for a 16 oz container which is ridiculous and what pesto and happiness are made of. Or you can buy the whole plant for around the same price and kill it yourself on your counter. Choose your own adventure); raw almonds (produce, yes? grows on trees?); raisins; lemons; limes; organic romaine lettuce and baby spinach (<– there she goes again); and one container each of mirepoix mix and the super 8 veggie mix, both great I-don’t-have-time-to-cook options for forming the base of stir fries, chilis, or soups.

And there you have it. That’s what we buy, almost without deviation, every single week. Sometimes the off bag of salt and vinegar chips or a needed spice or some honey mango shave lotion or honey pretzels or sea salt and dark chocolate almonds sneak their way into the now-overstuffed little red cart, but it varies.

We usually get away for under $90 bucks a pop, because you’ll notice I don’t buy meat there (Costco takes the protein-rich cake, and we try not to eat that much of it.)

So all that? It fits in the little red cart, barely, and with a baby seat crammed into the main compartment and a toddler riding dirty up top. Do we look ridiculous? Yes. Should I be wearing the baby to free up valuable real estate? Probably. But that’s how we roll right now, and we get in and out for under $100 and in under 30 minutes, so you really can’t beat that.

Plus, free stickers. (And an organic sucker if you find Buttercup.)

TJ’s 4evr

WHEN 4 IS LESS THAN 2 (OR THE MORE KIDS I HAVE, THE EASIER IT GETS)

(MOSTLY) HAPPY AT HOME

About Me, budgeting, Family Life, Parenting, Pro Life

The surprisingly high cost of #treatyoself (and book winners!)

October 26, 2015

Today is going to be a little scattershot (gosh, I think I just fulfilled a lifelong and previously unconscious desire to use that in a sentence), so I hope you’ll bear with me? It’s Monday, after all.

First up, winners of the giveaway: 3 copies of “Special Children, Blessed Fathers” coming your way, Sarah B, Rebecca, and Melissa – send your mailing info to juebbing at gmail dot com by the end of this week to claim your prize. (Sarah B, I’ve already got your info!)

For all the other lovely commenters from that post, you can buy the book here or here and there is an e-version available for Kindle (or any device – did you know you can download the Kindle app for free? Super cool.) Good Christmas present, just saying.

So we’re on day 26 of October and, subsequently, day 26 of no spend October. How’s it going? Oh, well, pretty good all in all, but there have been a few hiccups.

First I want to highlight a significant personal victory, which was a completely abstinent trip to Super Target to buy fake spiderweb decor for the front porch with the boy’s very own hard-earned monies. (Which their shameless mother paid them for behaving well for their babysitter/aunt, which is pathetic, I realize, but then again, they went right to bed that night, so shame away.)

So I went into Target with 4 kids, and I walked out of Target 35 minutes later with a single bag containing faux spider web and glowing arachnids. No baby socks. No Starbucks in hand. No diapers. No crap from the Dollar Spot.

Nada.

Hashtag cured.

Just waiting for Real Simple to come shoot our Fall porchscape. Any day now.

Well, just about. I have slipped up a couple of times, and both of those time$ may have involved a bottle of wine and at least 3 out of my 4 sisters, so…it’s a process. But for the most part, we’ve been killing it this month in the budgeting department, and I’ve cooked and baked more in the past 3.5 weeks than in the whole of our nearly 6 years of marriage combined. Which tells you either that I’m extremely lazy or that our standards for what constitutes “dinner” are very low. Maybe a combination.

Mostly though, there just isn’t a lot to “do” with kids that doesn’t cost money, at least from 3-5 pm every weekday. Or so I thought. So we bake. And I really, really hate baking.

About 5 loaves of pumpkin bread into October, I was starting to sicken of autumn’s favorite gourd and so I dug deep into my entitled suburban brain and came up with such solid ideas as trips to the mall to have my wedding rings cleaned and re-plated (free with our lifetime service plan!), pilgrimages to the Lego store, (we’d never been, and I still don’t think either boy realized you can, you know, buy stuff there. Winning.) mornings at the library, (previously in rotation, but now without a store-bought coffee in hand) nature walks and aspirational leaf-collecting for instagram fodder, and finally, most ghetto of all, leisurely strolls to our neighborhood King Soopers (maybe Kroger in your neck of the woods?) for a “hey kids, free cookie!” from the bakery department and a ride or two on the penny horse which the friendly manager always keeps stocked with pennies.

And weirdly, it has been enough.

I want to say it’s been more than enough, actually, because I think we’re all more content than we are in the midst of a bloated, out-of-control spending free-for-all kind of month. I know the grownups certainly feel better about things, at any rate. And I can almost guarantee we’re eating 99% better than when Chicfila features heavily on the lunch menu rotation, which is comforting to my mommy heart, even while my prodigious baking has left evidence to the contrary, at least on my hips.

But the kids are a lot happier, too. And it has gotten a lot easier to say no to them. Mostly because they’re not asking for anything to begin with. We simply respond “we’re only spending money on groceries for meals this month” when they ask for anything, and they haven’t actually asked for much at all, come to think of it. Which is pretty great. We’ve got pretty great (and pretty young and malleable, make note, self!) kids. And it would seem I’ve yet to ruin them with entitlement.

Here’s where it gets crazy though. Yes, we’ve been able to save a lot of money this month. Which turned out to be super helpful because while we thought we were putting a good little chunk aside for the “let’s be grown ups and buy a house” fund, we actually ended up dropping more than a grand on car maintenance. In 2 weeks.

And it was no big deal.

I mean it was a bummer to see the number sinking in the house fund, but it sure felt good to be able to cash flow the car situation and not sweat about the other bills and obligations for the month because I hadn’t been, you know, acting like an entitled fool.

Even cooler than that though, we heard through social media of a homeless mom in our area who had some needs for her 7 week old baby girl. I offered her some diapers and a packnplay, but what they really needed were groceries and another night in the hotel they’re living in until their apartment in transitional housing opens up next week. And she was bold enough to ask for it, and we were in a position to be able to respond not only with prayers, but with actual material help. And I don’t know if we would have been able to do it if we hadn’t been living simply this month.

I’m telling this story because it’s powerful. Not because we did something heroic (We didn’t. We did something responsible.), but because God demonstrated to us a direct correlation between self denial and the ability to help someone in need. Because we had “denied” ourselves those date nights and coffees and working lunches and trips to Target, we had money to be able to answer a real, material need. And we still fixed our van.

So the moral of the story is, I guess, sometimes it is just a latte. But I need to be careful, because all of those “just this one times” can really add up. For better or for worse.

About Me, budgeting, Family Life, motherhood

31 Days of Spending Zero: Day 13

October 13, 2015

Surprise, surprise: I attempted some variant of a 30 day challenge and didn’t share about it upfront so as to increase the odds of success via accountability (never), and instead just plunged ahead with it.

And guess what?

It’s working. (Slams knuckles vigorously on wooden desk.)

I decided to join up with Ruth Soukup’s Living Well Spending Zero challenge because 1. we’d like to buy a house in the current decade and 2. do you know how much easier it is to avoid eating processed foods when Chicfila and Starbucks are both definitively off the list for an entire month? A lot, it turns out.

So we’re getting skinny and rich all at once, and it’s so easy!

Just kidding, it’s really, really hard.

And I’m still not skinny because breast-feeding + the hearty supply of Adam’s crunchy peanut butter I’m subsisting off of in the pantry.

It has been an enormous wakeup call to the reality of how much of our lives – of my life as a mom – revolves around spending money on things. Kind of nauseating, as a matter of fact.

No plans for the morning? Okay, let’s walk to Starbucks.

Kids misbehaving and bedtime still miles off? Let’s just pop into Target (yes, I caved, we’re back on the Bullseye as of Luke’s arrival. What can I say?) and see what kind of crap I can load into the cart along with the “necessities” of yet another pack of diapers and some paper plates. I’d wager around $80 worth.

Didn’t plan anything for dinner? We’ll just run to the grocery store for some key missing ingredient and…$40 later.

You get the idea.

Also, my kids, due to my careful grooming over their entire lifespans, have come to expect – nay, to demand – that whenever we enter a store, I buy them something. And I don’t even buy toys when it’s not Christmas time. Oh, except for those trips to Saver’s when I pick up another digger for the backyard dirt pit because “it’s only $1.99,” or those moments of weakness in the dreaded Dollar Spot (Avengers pencil cases! Because educational!), or those ubiquitous kid’s meal toys that seem to breed and multiply in the basement like vermin.

Ouch.

I’ve come face to face with the stark reality over these past two weeks that we are a family firmly entrenched in the same consumer mindset that grips our culture at large. Sure, we were consuming far smaller luxuries than trips to Cabo or weekends at Disney, but the net result was the same: an insatiable appetite for more, and mine, and next.

Also, I’ve come to rely too heavily myself on little treats to “make it through the day” when in fact all I was doing was, for example, Tuesday. Congratulations self, you did Tuesday! Here’s a $4 latte and an impulse buy on your Kindle. Don’t worry, you spent less than $10.

Except it is worrisome when it happens multiple times per week, both from a character-development and spiritual perspective and from a financial perspective. It was no wonder we were busting our food budget every month because “I’ll just mark this down as groceries” was happening over and over again and those little 10 or 12 dollar dalliances really add up.

So far what I’m seeing in our austerity measures for October is, strangely, a whole lot of increase.

Increased gratitude, increased creativity, increased will power (turns out saying no to shopping and eating out translates nicely into saying no to wasting time/ignoring household duties/skipping prayer/mindless snacking), and increased satisfaction.

The last one is crazy.

If you’d told me I’d become a happier, friendlier SAHM if you took away my Chicfila drive through and my morning Pike’s Place roast, I’d have snarled at you. Perhaps ferociously. Because those are my “deserved” treats. Those were my mom tools, my answers to “I’m bored, I’m lonely, I’m tired.”

But they were never enough.

So here’s to the next 2 weeks of no spending, including (gulp) Halloween, and to not falling flat on my face now that I’ve thrown it out into cyberspace.

May what we have been given be more than enough, and may my children come to deeply enjoy the timeless combination of rice and beans and the creativity necessary to create fake spiderweb decorations out of dental floss and shredded trash bags.

Requisite Fall photo shoot at the “pumpkin patch” (aka trip to Whole Foods where we spent no money and fondled their gourds and probably endeared ourselves to the staff. Probably.)

budgeting, Catholic Spirituality, design + style, guest post

Still Beautiful {guest post}

September 8, 2015

Handing the reins over today to the beautiful DIY queen Sheena of Bean in Love, another FUS friend and the mama to 3 lovely little people who are almost always impeccably dressed thanks to mom’s designer’s eye and handiness. (Seriously, check out her IG). Thanks for filling in, Sheena!

Hey all! When Jenny and I were typing/chatting about what I could throw down over here she mentioned maybe writing about how I handle three toddlers (we two 3 year olds and one 1.5 year old) and I gave a hearty laugh-out-loud because, while we are all surviving and it might look like I know how to get things done with three littles underfoot, most days I look like a chicken about to be dinner and in need of a drink. I have zero words of wisdom and truly I think it’s luck that we’re all still sane some days. Okay, so maybe that’s an exaggeration but what I’m really saying is that there are lots more seasoned moms (like Jenny!) who are much more qualified to be giving advice on raising little humans. I can say though that I really love what I do and I wouldn’t have it any other way…except if I was rich maybe I’d hire a mothers’ helper or six.

So anyway, I blog over at Bean in Love about stuff I do and make on a really tight budget.

Sometimes I use free things like leaves from our front yard as decor. And sometimes I use weeds. Yep. Sometimes. Like the time when I needed something “living” to fill a vase near the kitchen sink and I needed it quick before the kids woke up and all my cleaning efforts for the sake of a quality photograph were destroyed.

The weeds:

I expected them to survive the night after the picture was taken and no longer but they survived for over a week. And, and, they mysteriously folded their leaves in at night which was equal parts mystifying, creepy, and uber cool.

Daytime:

Nighttime:

After watching their impressive show for a couple of nights, I went to the all-knowing Google to figure out what exactly these creatures were and found out that they are so called “Chamberbitter”.

Not that you care in the least what they’re called but I just thought I’d share in case you want to go hunt for some Chamberbitter in your own backyard. Though they be but weeds, they are pretty and they’ve got a lot of life in them post-pull.

Kinda like us humans, right? We are but lowly weeds going through life hoping to someday spread our sprigs wide in the paradisiacal garden we know to be heaven.

We’re all different – some are tall, some are short, some produce flowers, some don’t. Some weeds live short lives; others live long lives. They’re hated among gardeners and farmers because they can quickly usurp gardens and fields. They carry with them a stigma because of that reason that they are not wanted, not good enough, not beautiful, not productive, not worthy. They’re not even given the time of day; not gazed upon lovingly, just uprooted and tossed in the burn pile. That’s how we feel we’re treated by the world sometimes, isn’t it? That we’re not good enough. Not good enough to even be given a chance but just tossed aside in favor of something supposedly better and more beautiful.

But we are beautiful, each and every one of us. Regardless of what the world tells us about our qualities and about who we are, we are incredible. As it turns out, this Chamberbitter weed I found in our backyard is actually used medicinally in South America to treat kidney stones. Crazy, huh? Use those God-given talents my friends and keep soaking up the light and grace of the Son and one day God will pluck us from this earth and He’ll put us in our own special vase where our beauty will be on display for all to see. And no one will ever know that we were once lowly weeds.

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