Where there is no credit to crunch..

I’m tightening my belt – and not just because my frenetic physical assault on my body is finally reaping results. No, the preverbal budget belt is going on a diet too. We’re hoping to buy a new house (I know, I know, we’re mad to be selling in this climate!!!) and we need to gather every penny about ourselves.

Phase One of Operation Opulent (spend less, feel richer is my motivating line..) began before Christmas. We cut back on childcare, waved a tearful farewell to our cleaner, and decided to eat the food that’s actually piling up in the cupboards instead of continually buying new stuff. “I’m a hoarder, I can’t help it!” I confessed, as my husband counted 14 tins of chopped tomatoes in the back of the larder. “Learn” he says sternly, suggesting a week’s worth of recipes using the offending tins. So once I’ve exhausted my repertoire of chilli, lasagne and bolognaise, it’s back to the recipe books for some inspiration. No bad thing probably… my repertoire could certainly do with a little revitalising.

Cutting back a couple of hour’s childcare a week means I’ll have to write in the evening when the girls are asleep. No bad thing probably – it’ll keep me off the sofa munching chocolates (two punishments, I mean birds, with one stone), and I get to spend more time with the girls. Getting deep and dirty with the Ciff won’t kill us – I use the word ‘us’ because housework is a shared responsibility (I’ll keep you posted on how THAT one works out..). But again, no bad thing probably. I can get the girls involved and make it fun. (OK, I’ll keep you posted on how THAT one works out too!).

We have now begun Phase Two of Mission Money Saver. More childcare cutbacks, holiday cancelled, and a few painful choices on which friend’s 40th’s, weddings, and family birthdays we can go to. No bad thing really – do we really need the hassle of dragging ourselves and the kids to multiple overseas weekends throughout the year? And you know the surprising thing? It actually doesn’t feel that painful. It actually feels a little good. It feels good to look at the price of food before I drop it (or not) into the shopping trolly. I never used to. It feels good to patch up a few holes in the girl’s trousers instead of throwing them straight in the bin. I didn’t use to. It feels good to savour family time than zoom off on yet another expensive exhausting weekend. We didn’t use to.

And the girls? Are they suffering? Are they moaning? Of course not. They’re as happy as always and probably a bit more. And us? So we have to clean the house and we have to stay home a bit more. There are other sacrifices we are making, but they won’t kill us. They might even make us stronger, as the saying goes. But we have a roof over our head, (multiple) food in our larder, and two happy kids. So, while our credit is definitely crunching, I write this with respect and real sorrow for those people for who this recession is really hurting. For those whose children will suffer. And for those who can’t afford to spend less.

Time to Smarten Up

The time has arrived. My abilities to Deceive to Achieve (see February 2008 blog …) are increasingly limited – those little white lies are not suffice to fuddle muddled minds anymore, and full-blown lies are necessary. Now, I know mothers with a moral conscience can be dangerous things, but even I draw the line at blatant bare-faced lying (recent Santa shenanigans notwithstanding).

Last week I was luxuriating in the snugginess of our usual morning bed read-in. The books were just out of reach on the windowsill, and sandwiched between two very warm and wriggly girls I suggested Daisy go and fetch them.
“You get them mummy,” was the reply.
“Well, you’re closer love, you get them.”
Without a second’s hesitation, she rolled over on top of me, squeezed in between Poppy and me, and looked up angelically,
“You’re closer. You get them!”
Stunned into silence by a smart three year old, I’d reached a new low.

Somehow, while I’ve been dumbing down, they’ve been smartening up. This is not a good situation for a mother to be in. I always knew babies were cute in more ways than one. Poppy knows the exact pitch to aim her danger-decibel screech at to have me jump out of my bed/chair/wits in a second (usually to present me with a toothy grin once I’ve staggered to her side).

But are they getting too smart? Am I going to be able to keep up or am I going to turn (more) into my mother who after 20 years of me showing her, still can’t work the video? I’m just about computer literate – admittedly more Peter and Jane level, than War and Peace. But my children will never have known as age where computers are not a fundamental part of everyday life. It recently took me three days to work out how to put the SIM card into my new iphone, only to handle it gingerly without actually using it for another week, so scared I was of it. Not sure what I thought it was going to do, but it sure felt like a ticking bomb of technological danger to me. So maybe it’s a good thing my girls will be smarter than me. With my husband even more of a technophobe than me, it might be very useful to have at least one person in the house who knows how to work the digital TV.

In the meantime I have to keep my wits about me – I have children to outsmart.