Shake Your Money Maker

not really... just kidding... nobody would pay to see me shake it but let me tell you what we do for a living.
Basically we're starving artists. I sew and make jewelry and mixed media art. He is a musician, and 3-4 times a month, does community music events that he gets paid for.
I work in retail, full time.
He works in non profit transportation, full time+ overtime some weeks.
We have two children, one cat and one rabbit. We've had several versions of the same fish but gave up when our son noticed it suddenly looked different.
We rent my father in laws house monthly. We pay him as much as we can. Sometimes if it weren't for him we would have nothing. We pay all the utilities and if we're lucky we get fuel assistance.
Our son goes to public elementary school. Our daughter goes to a federally funded preschool.
We have two ancient but trusty cars. (both are on "E" right now and my fingers are crossed that at least one can get me to work tomorrow)
We have a lot of dietary needs that bites our budgets ass every time.
Our son goes to Occupational Therapy, behavioral therapy, a pediatric psychiatrist and is on a daily medication.
I am also on a daily medication.
My husband and I are about to start marriage councelling. If we can afford the $20 co pay.
We eat a lot of rice. A lot of potatoes and a lot of canned beans.
And nobody has any. idea. what. so. ever.

panic thursday

this happens every thursday. Got paid, paid bills, have 100 left to feed a family of 4 and get gas to get to work until next thursday when the cycle starts all over again.

Back it up

I'm just going to slow down the music and turn the lights down low and get serious about something.
This is not a hate blog. This is not a "hate the rich" blog, or a "poor me" blog or a "not fair not fair not fair" blog.
I don't mind that there are wealthy people in the world. Wealthy people can do wonderful things for others... and most do.
This is about my life as a poor girl, and my hunger for acceptance in a rich community.
I would love for just one well to do person who never thought about poor people in their community, maybe even living on their street to realize that there is a whole level of sensitivity that can be reached just by being aware.
Am I going to make them aware?
Well. No. I'm not a "look at me! I'm poor! get used to it suckaaaaaaahhhhhs!" kind of gal. But I will quietly and gracefully assert my situation upon anyone that I feel is missing that awareness.
Okay?
So let's refresh. Wealthy people have every right to the money and lifestyle they have. Poor people have every right not to marginalize themselves. It's all about choices. And I choose to not feel sorry for myself and I choose not to resent what I can't have. I choose to just tell my story and maybe have one person see me and know that I'm a decent, creative, classy lady despite my wallet.

Just ask

I'm learning not to be afraid to ask for the things I need from the people I love:
size 3 snowboots for my son
size 4/5 winter clothes for my daughter
pro-bono babysitting on both Friday and Saturday nights

Call me "Recessionista" if you want to but at some point we all need to put aside our pride and be brave enough to ask for what we need.

In return I have things to offer too. Cleaning, raking, organizing... symbiotic generosity.
It's beautiful.

The other day

The other day I had to expose myself.
Last year, my son had two homeroom parents who asked the families for a lot of monetary contributions for class activities.
There were:
Halloween parties
(each child buy another child a $5 treat!)
Holiday gifts for the teacher
(I kid you not, a gift certificate for the Cheesecake Factory and another for a day at the SPA!!!!)
A whole week of "Secret Valentine"
(buy a book, make a craft, buy some candy, buy a gift for $5)
and last but not least the end of the year Teacher Gift in which our family was completely humiliated by being the "one family didn't contribute" example (oh but they didn't name NAMES so it was okay for them to say that?)
Last year, besides the school supplies and the field trip costs and the clothes. It cost our family more out of our piddly budget to maintain our "secret poor status" than we wanted.
Why do we participate? Why not say "no thanks, our child can't take part in the activity"?
Well- would you want your child to be singled out?

So like I said, the other day I had to expose myself. I had to put it out there before this overindulgent nonesense of "more more more" started again with this years homeroom parents. I really needed them to know that we aren't like everyone else. That it was asking too much for us to contribute beyond our means. That I don't want my kid to be left out but at the same time I really felt strongly that it would benefit every family if we could tone it down and be more creative about how the class activities happened. What ever happened to homemade? What ever happened to giving the teacher a card or a letter to let her know how appreciated she was?
So I exposed our family situation to the homeroom mother and held my breath waiting for the "Poor girl!" response. I kind of got it... but I also kind of got "thank you for reminding us that not every family can do this."
Mission accomplished.

What I wish I knew

I wish I was taught how to manage money. I remember asking my mother about our family finances and she always said "none of your business".
I had no idea about bills, about credit, about saving, about spending.
Excuses. I could have taught myself. But I didn't know I had to learn. So now here I am, 35 and wanting to learn.
This is going to be a long long process.

The Beginning

I've never had money. Ever. Even when I was young, my family struggled. That's another story for another time though. What I have now is a family of my own and a bank account that is practically non existent. The other thing I have is a determination to be courageous while I figure this out. I'm going to try not to get stuck in my "Poor Girl" story and instead challenge myself to get out of the feelings of being poor, and hopefully the reality of being poor while I journey.