Lesson learned, maybe

I have never claimed to be good with money. In fact, if I am honest, I will tell you I am downright bad with money. I come from a family of very responsible spenders -- or maybe better said, responsible savers. But me, I am impulsive and irresponsible. And at 37, I figured I would have sorted this one out by now. Unfortunately, no. 

In my twenties, I ran up several ridiculous credit card bills fueled primarily by TJ Maxx and Target. This did, after several instances, teach me that I could not own a credit card. Not even one frozen in water in the freezer (as someone suggested for emergency purposes), because ice melts, and when it does, chances are TJ Maxx will still have a pair of shoes I “need.” Or one locked up in a fire box – I have a great memory. I can memorize those digits and online shop that credit away. So for the past 10 plus years I haven’t owned a credit card. And I am consequently credit card debt free.

Unfortunately, shopping on credit, is only one type of money sin.

There is this place called Zulily, which is a sin in and of itself. If you don’ t know about it, don’t google it. It will take all your money. I once did a search on my bank account of what I had spent on Zulily in the calendar year. I was appalled. And embarrassed. And ashamed. And disgusted.  I am in Zulily recovery. That app cannot be on my phone. The. End.  

There is also the sin of not budgeting. I continue to partake in this one. Even after a multitude of Dave-Ramsey-fan  friends showed me his ways, I cannot accept the concept. This means that sometimes in the grocery store line I have to open my Wells Fargo app and move a little money around to cover the two bags of organic apples my growing children require.  Eating and living organic isn’t cheap, but that is another topic of conversation. 

Most recently, my husband and I decided that my beloved 12 year old station wagon, with 150K miles on it needed to be upgraded with baby #3 on the way. We convinced ourselves that fitting three car seats in the back seat of said wagon wouldn’t work. We did try, but it didn’t seem pretty, especially the part where the pregnant lady leaned over the seats to unbuckle the middle passenger. So we started looking. And blah blah blah, we bought the biggest SUV around. We justified it. The kids loved it & despite my initial reservations about “the bus,” as my sister coined it, I really actually liked driving it. And dammit it was pretty. And functional. Then I went on maternity leave, and there was a pause in my income. I didn’t really want to go back to work, leaving my new or old babies, any more than necessary, especially not to make a car payment. 

So after owning our bus for about 4 months, we sold it back to the dealer. We took a little loss. We really couldn’t afford the loss – who can? But in six months we would have wished we had taken the loss. So once we were there, it was the smart choice, but the even smarter choice would have been to have never stretched ourselves in the first place. I thought I would know this by now. But apparently I don’t. I can’t promise I won’t make a similar mistake, but I can promise I will always find the silver lining in my mistake.

I am back in my little station wagon, pushing 151K miles now, three car seats deep in the back seat. I have never been so happy. I can reach each of my three children in the backseat from the front. In the bus, poor Durham was so far away in the third row of seats, if he needed any assistance opening his baggie of organic apple slices, he was out of luck until we reached our destination. Half the time I couldn’t even hear what he was saying he was so far away. Today, we were driving home and it was time for baby Grace to eat and she was getting vocal about it. I was watching her in the rear view mirror and all of a sudden I saw a little hand reach out and touch her face and I heard Durham singing to her. That’s what we need – one another and close at hand. We don’t need a third row in this family.