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By Maureen Connolly
The last thing I want to do is romanticize this recession. There’s nothing romantic, after all, about job loss, losing a house or health insurance, a car being repossessed. And even if your job is intact, companies all across the U.S. are scrutinizing every cost, asking employees to take salary reductions, to forego bonuses, and to work with a bare-bones staff which puts added pressure on everyone who’s left, and who are conflicted feeling as though they should just be happy to have a job.
But I would be lying if I told you that on some level, I didn’t think that this recession is precisely the kick in the butt that many Americans (my husband and me included) need to re-evaluate and re-prioritize how we spend our money, and consequently, how we spend our time. It’s not that we live a lavish lifestyle. We clip coupons (www.coupons.com), my husband’s car is 10 years old, we welcome hand-me-down clothes for our three boys, and shop garage sales for bargains. But we’ve also been known to live outside our means: We bought an old house that always seems to need fixing up (though discovering ways to green our home means more money in our pockets down the line. Find ways to do just that at www.realsavvymoms.com/go-green.) Our property taxes are ridiculously high, but we couldn’t resist moving to the town because of the schools. Last summer’s one-week beachfront rental with my sisters and their families wasn’t really within our budget, but we did it anyway. Same goes for the mini flat-screen TV that my husband surprised me with for my birthday. My 12-inch, 12-year-old bedroom TV was working just fine (though, once you go high-def you never go back.) It’s not that I think a recession makes for more quality family time. I definitely don’t get all warm and fuzzy when I think about how family dinners these days are eaten in instead of out, about the stay-cation we have planned for this year. The reality is that we’re a lot more stressed these days worrying about possible job loss. Which, as you might guess, tends to have a serious trickle-down effect when you’re dealing with the day-to-day stuff or raising children.
In fact, I can think of numerous ways spending money would equate to spending more quality-time with my kids and husband. For starters, I’d hire a personal chef to cook healthy dinners that my three boys would actually eat rather than move around on their plates. The money I’d spend would also relieve me of the running, daily dinner-time commentary of thoughtful comments and observations, such as: “Mom, is that meatloaf? You know I don’t like meatloaf” (Really, Sean, cause I could swear you ATE meatloaf last week, and the week before that, and the week before that) and “Mom, that green stuff is touching my chicken.” (Um, that would be broccoli. And I assure you it’s not toxic and it won’t contaminate your food.) Thanks to my personal chef, I’d be free to sip a chilled chardonnay while bouncing my toddler on one knee and helping the older boys with homework assignments, all the while enjoying the sweet smells of a home-cooked meal that didn’t require me to slice up a single chicken breast or dirty a single pot. I’d also plan three-week long summer vacations in faraway, tranquil places, such as a hilltop home in Tuscany or a seaside villa in Greece. (for those who can swing it, you can get some serious deals on Vacation Rental By Owner, www.vrbo.com).
But I digress. My reality, at the moment, is far different than that, and for a variety of reasons (both work-related and personal) that culminated with the recession, my husband and I have had to take a long, hard look at how we spend money. Now for the romanticizing part: In-between our individual moments of sheer panic, wondering how this is all going to shake out, I’ve noticed that my husband and I seem more connected, more in-tune with one another. Maybe it’s about aligning forces while we weather this recessional storm. We’re talking more, even if it is about how we spend money, how we can trim costs (“Hey, Honey, you know that office phone line that never rings anymore—lets get rid of it.” “Brilliant idea!” or “What about the YMCA membership that you haven’t used in 8 months?” “Score forty bucks for us.” And the private pool membership that easily cost more than 6 months of grocery bills for a family of 5? Town pool here we come! We’re teaming up and strategizing, and giving each other moral support as we take turns quietly freaking out about our careers. (I’m a writer, he’s a newspaper editor. Need I say more?) Ultimately, I like to think of myself as a glass half-full kinda gal. So I’m trying to keep my head up. And while at times I wish that I could just snap my fingers, and poof, it’d all be okay, I don’t ever want to go back to the frivolous spending, and living beyond our means. We’ve learned a valuable lesson here. One that I know will serve us well when we turn the corner, and start anew.
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