Skip to main content

Summer Time, and the Living is....Expensive?

One of my long term goals in life has always been to live debt free.
My parents raised me to be a good steward of my money and after a lot of hard work, working almost full time while student teaching, and putting my teaching career on hold for a few years while I had a baby and created a financial foundation for my family (alliteration BONUS points!), I was able to make that a reality.
At age 25, my student loans were paid off and the only piece of debt my family had was the mortgage on our house. No hospital bills. No credit cards. No retainers.
Then, the divorce happened. I credit my ability to stay afloat amidst the sea of lawyer's fees and doctor's bills in small part to the nest egg that was burned through at mach speed; I credit a slightly bigger part to my painstakingly shiny credit score, and the biggest part to my parents' financial support. As someone to whom financial independence is right up there with oxygen and a well-rounded diet, this last part was a particularly hard pill to swallow.
Fast forward two years from my divorce; my mom is retired now and she gave me a speech last month on how they can "no longer help you the way we were helping you before."
Let's be clear on one point, friends. I did not, at any time, ask for money from my family. Ever. They gave it to me and I was not in a position to say no (even though I did try giving it back a few times with no success).
Anyway, the moral of my story is, that I did need their help for a little while. However, this is the part that brings me happiness:
I don't need it anymore.
Summer is coming and the following things happened to me:
1) I got a substantial tax refund which I used to pay off almost all of my credit card debt
2) I refinanced my house and will save over $100/month on that payment
3) I will be working a summer job that will get rid of my very last bit of debt in the first paycheck.

That's the good news. Of course, knowing me, there has to be a balance. The bad news is, that my ex has apparently not been working. He had a work injury and is purposely vague about everything we talk about so I don't know if he has a job lined up, if he is going to go back to work for his old employer, or if he simply is just going to let it ride and hope that someone will pay him for no reason at all.
The whopping $85 I get in child support every month usually pays for gas and groceries for me, since I'm used to eking out on a pretty limited budget, but if I lose that little bit of extra money, things can turn south.

This causes some concern for me because I was reading today's grocery ads and discovered the following; produce is "on sale"-yay! - apricots are only $2.99 a pound. If you want to know how fast my children can eat through one pound of apricots, congratulations. In the time it took you to read that, all 4 theoretical apricots are gone and in their place is a sticky mess of juicy fingers and cheeks. Don't ask me where the pits are, I don't know and probably never will. I could also get 6 mini cucumbers for $2.50. I bet they are adorable.
I also discovered that steak is only $4.99 a pound. ONLY. $4.99. A POUND. WHAT A GREAT DEAL.
But don't worry. I could get a steak and 4 pounds of apricots, and 6 mini cucumbers for $20. Or I could feed my family all week with a giant bag of Totino's Pizza Rolls, 4 six packs of pop, and three cans of Spaghetti-o's for the same price.

Hey! I think I just stumbled upon the source of the obesity epidemic.

I'm sure I had a point at the beginning of this post, but it's been lost. Thanks for reading.

Comments

Popular posts from this blog

8 Things I Wish I Could Tell You About Being a Single Mom

Well, here it is, November, and I haven't written a word since April. Not that it hasn't occurred to me. I was busy working and somewhat enjoying my "summer break" and then school started again and BAM, ice and snow everywhere. Luckily for the 12 people who read this blog, today I drank an extra large cup of caramel macchiato from the local gas station at four o clock in the afternoon, so I am ready to write. Besides the copious amount of caffeine I've consumed, the major inspiration for this post is actually something that has been rattling around in my head for sometime now. Maybe it's because I spend a lot of time sitting around feeling sorry for myself (hahahahaha! Time. See, it's a joke because I actually have no time ever. See: opening sentence) but mostly it's because it's pretty personal and I have a hard time bringing it up without feeling like a total Debbie Downer pity-party, complete with cheese and whine (not the good wine that I li...

The Imprint of Time

Recently, I was reading up on my Facebook posts (I've been trying, with moderate success, to cut back on the time I waste, er, spend on social media) and a young friend of mine posted this beautiful post about how "what you focus on is what your life becomes" and "attitude is everything" and "the world is what you make of it". I've become somewhat of a cynic is my curmudgeonly age of 31, because when I read (and inevitably repost) those "inspirational" messages, I sometimes find myself laughing so hard I snort. This friend graduated college three years ago and just finished her first year teaching English to high school students. She is single and carefree with a dog who is "just like" her child, a very active social life, and about a zillion friends who like every time she posts a workout photo or a #Shakeology advertisement. And the thing is, I remember being her. I remember being young and not having worries, at least ...

Tell Me About Your Kids Sometime

A few days ago, I went to a movie with an acquaintance and afterward, we decided mutually that we should get to know each other better, which, considering my lack of an active social circle, can't possibly be a bad thing. (Shut up, anxiety. I'm trying to knock those walls down. ) We were exchanging questions and he said, "You'll have to tell me about [your son] sometime." A few moments later he added, "...and your girls. They clearly have your heart." That first sentence, blinking bright against the black on my iPhone struck me so profoundly. It's a simple request. "Tell me about your son." The innocuous reason he asked that question was simply because he knows that my son is important to me and wants to know more about the people I care about. However, when I read it, it struck me how I would seriously answer what my children truly mean to me and how I would honestly describe them. Not in the funny things they do, or the sweet things th...