I was walking into a clothing store and was genuinely interested in buying a shirt. And I was free to buy one. The Boy needed a pair of shorts and if I'd been willing to put up with his militant refusal to try on clothes - I could have picked up a few pairs for him as well.
This was odd. Partly because I hate malls in general - but mostly because I'd tried to think back to the last time I'd shopped for clothes. It had been a very long time. Like - since winter.
In my family, I'm the spender. E will part with money when you hold her head to the fire - but I genuinely enjoy the experience of seeking out and purchasing stuff. And I hadn't bought so much as a shirt over six months.
But this wasn't really about shirts or clothes, even. This was about feeling like if you bought something you wouldn't feel like you were stealing from the family till.
I can do this - on impulse, even.
And while I didn't buy anything - it sure felt good to unclench that part of my mind that always told me I couldn't.
Because this past summer was not a fun time in the family finances. We've always had high property taxes and so a good part of our budget is shoving money aside to make sure we've got enough to pay the tax man twice a year. We save our shekels until January or July, then watch them fly out the door and start over.
In the normal run of things - this is not a big deal, but with the fear of getting canned and then changing jobs there have been more than a few holes in our financial plan. We're all right, but you're more aware of the height you're at when somebody starts removing the safety net.
With changes to our insurance plan, a larger share of our medical bills became our responsibility this past year. Coincidentally, this was the year we discovered that my son would need a second round of treatments for something we'd thought had been cleared up last year.
You hear an awful lot about medical bills driving people into bankruptcy these days - and it's easy to see why.
My son had a series of appointments - evaluation, preparation, the actual procedure, and follow up. These are all classified differently and there is no way for me as a consumer to get a sense for what they will cost.
Nor will I have any idea when these bills will show arrive or when they will be due.
So you sock money away for that uncertain future.
Part of that uncertain future is paying for summer childcare. We pay for a patchwork of camps and daycare for two small children. All enrollments require prepayment, so this suddenly turns our normal childcare bill of $500 a month into $1,000 a month and $1,300 a month.
Again, I'm sure there are people who pay more - I'm merely talking about the variance.
A fixed cost suddenly doubles or nearly triples - and you're hauling money out of savings to patch the hole. Right around the time you're about to get that prepaid childcare - and enjoy not paying a bill that month - that's when the hospital bills start rolling in.
The first hit was dental. The Boy needed a bite plate - a $600 piece of plastic that we were assured will cost us a mere $300 - but triggers bills demanding the full $600 since insurance won't pay.
Next up was me. This was a surprise one - but I'd gotten a replacement CPAP machine last year and my monthly bill suddenly doubled as (unbeknownst to me) my insurance had stopped paying for leasing my machine and I was now buying it on my own. $108 please, you're welcome.
Uh, okay.
Then E got some tests done. $130 for the test - and... $180 for the room the test was performed in.
We haven't even gotten to my son's stuff yet. His is split up into many parts but adds up to about $500.
The point of all this wasn't "gosh I'm so poor" - but rather "How the hell does anyone budget for this?"
Literally the day after I'd gotten the $180 bill for my wife (which had a due date that was a week away) I got a call from the hospital's billing department - they wanted to know if I needed to set up a payment plan. I reflexively said no, but I probably should have said yes - since my son's bills hadn't landed yet.
I was seriously ticked off at the ortho folks and my dentist - telling me a bill would be $300 and then billing me $600. About the time we find this out - the Boy loses his bite plate and we have to buy another one. This time for $300.
I spent a not insignificant amount of time trying to find out if we truly owed the full amount for the first one or just the half like we were promised. Six months after the procedure, we found out the answer - we needed to pay a total of around $400.
All of this lands in a month where we have a $700 landscaping bill and are paying $1,600 for a month of childcare.
And I want to make something clear here - lest the sound of a violin drown out my main point:
I am a very fortunate man. I have good health insurance - very good health insurance. I am very well compensated for the job I do. The summer of 2013 was a very painful time financially - but I know there are literally millions of people in this country who would trade places with me in a second.
I know this.
My point isn't to cry poverty - my point is to illustrate that a family as fortunate as mine can go way off the rails because of medical bills. Mind you, these were not major procedures and our copay is pretty reasonable. Picture the person with truly bad health insurance - that $500 bill for my son was for something that cost thousands of dollars.
Were we uninsured - the total bill would be higher, and we'd owe all of it. I can't even begin to imagine how a household budgets for that. Or copes with that.
And I can easily imagine a scenario where I stayed at my old job and got laid off mid-year. That would turn our life's trajectory towards those scenarios you keep reading about in the paper. Hollow out your 401K, sell your house, the kinds of things that do keep middle America up at night.
But I got the new job. And we weathered the storm. Outside of a few Kickstarters I got into back in March - the discretionary stuff has been kept to a minimum.
When the car needs gas, I get gas - instead of putting it off until it's closer to payday. I'm starting to repair the damage to our savings.
I just got a year older - and Jen's family are coming over on Saturday. We're going to go all out. It's gonna be a thing.
And the day before?
Goddammit, E and I are going to go out.
Aside from daycare - I can count on one hand the number of times we've hired a babysitter for the night. Since my son was born.
So we're doing this.
The new job threw some extra money my way and we are going to celebrate. I've got lunch reservations at a trendy new spot (easier to do lunch) and E's booked her co-worker's daughter to watch the kids at night.
We're going to see Gravity.
Last time E and I went out to see a first run movie? I don't even know. I think we had an evening free sprung on us last minute and we went to see Despicable Me, because it was the only thing in theaters we could stand. Neither of us was excited to see that movie - but we weren't missing a chance to get out.
This time around, this is a movie we both want to see. A lot. I do something I haven't done it ages: I pre-buy the tickets and reserve specific seats. Middle of the row with nobody in front of us.
Lunch reservations online? Check.
Babysitter? Check.
Movie tickets to awesomeness? Check.
Weekend with family? Check.
This is going to totally rock.
The Long Lean Season will finally be put down. Double tap to the head.
* * *
That was Monday.
Two days ago, little e comes home with news from school: somebody in her class has head lice.
Deep breath.
We've done the drill before - E transforms into Patton pretty much anytime there's been a whiff of this around the house - so we sit the kids down and sort them out.
Yes, little e has head lice. The boy has nits.
E mobilizes for Iwo Jima and we're purging the house of stuffed animals and pillows. Everything will get laundered. Every head will get picked over.
The kids will stay home from school.
That was yesterday.
The boy was cleared for school for today. Little e was not, so E's staying home with her all day.
Lunch is out. I click the "Cancel reservations" link in my confirmation email.
Lunch reservations online? Un-Check.
Babysitter?
We call to let our sitter make an informed choice about coming over. I entertain all kinds of hope that they'll say the odds are low and E and I will still get our movie.
But they call to cancel. The sitter's family has done forty rounds with head lice before and they are never going to do that again.
Un-Check the Babysitter.
Movie tickets to awesomeness?
Pre-paid - I'm still thinking there's some way one of us could go, grab a friend. Or give the tickets to someone. E calls and finds they'll do an exchange or refund. So we'll just bail.
Goodbye, opening weekend movie. Un-check.
And I emailed Jen to give her the full wave off for the weekend. They're family and they could probably deal, but I don't want to inform them and leave it in their hands to decide. They're nice enough to come despite the situation - but I don't want to risk them.
Weekend with family? Un-Check.
Oh, and the $300 water bill just arrived. And your car registration is due.
* * *
The good news? The hospital bills are paid. The sheets are clean. And it's payday.
Little e is crying because her cousins can't visit and all her fuzzy friends have to be bagged up and taken away.
The Boy is mad because he had to go to school and his sister didn't.
E's been at DEFCON-1 for so long I'm not sure where her mood is.
And tonight, I'll go home and help E do battle with the lice.
Then we'll watch some TV, read a little twitter and turn in.
The pillows will be gone - we've got pillowcases stuffed with towels. Our pillows are isolated in the plastic bags filling the upstairs hallway. We won't be using them again for weeks.
We'll fill the next two days with cleaning and picking nits, and then the work week will reset and we'll try this whole mess again.
Looooooooong exhale
I just wanted a weekend. Just one, huh?
