The Cost of Having Kids

 

A number of my wonderful friends are thinking of having kids.  To the last, all would make amazing parents.  To the last, all have a variety of concerns about what it means to have kids.  Some are gay, some have health problems, some are just weighing all the options.

And all have mentioned the cost of having kids.  In the past, I've kind of pooh-poohed this.  My opinion was, if you're ready to have kids, just go for it.  Don't let money get in your way.  In other words, if most of us waited to have kids until we'd saved up enough money to support them, not too many of us would be having kids.  That was certainly our experience--having kids has been forcing us to get some other financial ducks in a row, but we certainly haven't been bankrupted by them.

Or have we?  I was curious to find out just how much having kids is costing us.  Because we keep really detailed records of our expenditures every month, I went back over the last year's records to check this out.  A couple of things became really clear.  First, these numbers are very context-specific.  In other words, your numbers will vary based on how many people are parenting, where you're located, whether one, two, or three of the parents decide to work, and so on.  I've tried to be specific about our particulars to give you a sense of the variables.

Second, kids cost money, even when you do things on the cheap.  Being middle class with at least two incomes is the only way we could swing it.  The money we spend on daycare alone could probably get us out of debt in two years.   

The numbers below are pretty accurate because of our record-keeping, but where it made sense to do so, I rounded off to the nearest hundred.  So, here is what we've got:

1.  Daycare.  No surprise here:  This is far and a way the biggest expense we have, one that has doubled since Nolie's arrival in August.  Next year's number will be even higher because we'll pay daycare for both kids for every month of the year, and Addie is in preschool now, which is more expensive than a home daycare (where Nolie currently is). 

Note:  my schedule is flexible, and Eric's work allows him every other Friday off.  As a result, both kids are in daycare only three full days a week (sometimes less).  So this number includes 20-25 hours a week for both kids because I work evenings and odd weekend hours.  It also includes the cost for gym daycare (back when I was going to the gym), gratuities for our daycare provider, and the occasional night out, which was almost never--we're homebodies, for the most part.  Finally, we have limited friends/family to use as babysitting resources--most of Eric's family is in San Diego, mine's in Idaho.  So we don't get much free daycare that other folks might get if they live near grandparents, for example.

Total:  $5400

2.  Groceries.  This one is harder to calculate, because we didn't keep track of what exact expenses were for Addie and Nolie, and which were ours.  However, on average, we spent $1100 a month average on groceries.  Before you get all indignant at that number, let me tell you that we are now down to $800 a month because of some lifestyle changes we've made.  But $1100 was the number for most of 2006.  My guess is that out of that, approximately $200 a month went to stuff for the kids (diapers, food, baby wash, etc.).  I breastfed both babies until around 6 months, so that saved a lot on formula, which is ridiculously expensive (especially when your kids are lactose intolerant and have to drink soy formula.  Argh).

Total:  $2400

3.  Medical copays.  We are members of the lucky club of Americans who actually have health insurance, and we belong to an HMO, so we're primarily on the copay system.  This number is what it is because of a couple of trips to the E.R. for Addie, an ambulance ride, and Nolie's birth.  Then, all the little doctor visits over time added up.  So, we had very reasonable copays, but they accumulated over time.

Total:  $1400

4.  Clothing:  My kids are rarely dressed in designer duds.  They puke and poop all over everything anyway, so why bother?  In fact, almost everything either one of them wears is a hand-me-down, a gift, or from the thrift store.  The one thing I do spend money on is shoes, because Addie is very picky about what she'll keep on her feet, and she'll wear one pair until they are falling apart.  Another note:  Nolie is a girl.  That means that she is now wearing all of Addie's baby clothes.  If she had been a boy, he probably couldn't have worn all of Addie's hand-me-downs (even though boys look cute in pink), and our clothing costs no doubt would have increased.  The number below is mostly maternity clothes for me.  I had Addie in spring and Nolie in the heat of the summer, so not all of my old maternity clothes translated to the new pregnancy. 

Total:  $600

5.  Entertainment:  This number includes eating out (we now have to pay for Addie to take one bit of something and decide she doesn't like it in a restaurant), trips to the zoo or museums, memberships, and so on.  Granted, we probably would have spent entertainment money on something else if we didn't have kids, but I'm trying to be thorough here.  I'm sure there are ways to reduce this cost (don't eat out, don't go out).  But if you never take your kid to the zoo or for ice cream, why are you a parent?

Total:  $650

6.  Travel:  We took Addie to San Diego once to see Eric's parents, and to Idaho twice.  She's now over the age of two, so we pay for her plane ticket.  My family does offer to help out with tickets when we come, but even with that, we paid almost a grand to fly her to see her family.  I don't know what in hell we'll do once Nolie turns two and we have to pay for her ticket.  Hide in our basement for the rest of our lives, I guess.

Total:  $800

7.  College Savings:  We put $50 a month in a pre-tax account for Addie's college, and set up one for Nolie in November.  One of her grandparents also has an account saved up for her.

Total:  $700

8.  Gear:  We probably paid out for a lot more stuff when Addie was born, but I saved all that stuff, so we didn't have to buy much for Nolie's arrival.  Still, we did need a double stroller, some humidifiers, and a truckload of stuff for potty training.  We bought most of this used from Craig's List.  I think gear is not something new parents need to worry too much about--you'll get a lot as gifts or hand-me-downs, or can procure quality stuff used pretty easily.  And a lot of the crap they try to sell you as new parents you don't really need (of course, you probably won't know this until you're done having kids).

Total:  $240

9.  Haircuts:  Addie's hair grows incredibly slowly, so we don't get it cut often.  When we do, we go to Supercuts.

Total:  $50

10.  Birthday parties/gifts and Christmas:  We keep Addie pretty well hidden away, but she's still managed to make a few friends and get invited to a few parties.  And she had one birthday of her own (we only bought her one gift, by the way.  We figured she'd get plenty of stuff from her grandparents, and she did.  Same with Christmas).  Still, we spent some cash on gifts for other kids and on things like new Christmas stockings.

Total:  $125

11.  Having Nolie:  The $100 copay for her birth is factored into the health insurance number above, but we also paid to have a doula (a birthing assistant) at Nolie's birth, which was money very well spent (Nolie shot out so fast the doula practically had to catch her).  I also needed some medications and other aids when pregnant and in the weeks postpartum.  These were luxuries but made that whole wretched experience more pleasant.  The cost of a doula in my area is $400-800, but varies depending on where you live.

Total:  $900

 

So, how much did having two kids (one only since August) cost us this year?

Grand Total:  $13,265.  Holy God.  About 20% of our take-home pay.

Can you do it for cheaper?  Probably (we probably could have).  Maybe you wouldn't have a doula at your birth, or don't need to travel to see family.  Maybe you live in a part of the country where things don't cost quite so much.

But maybe you couldn't do it cheaper.  Maybe your kid will have to be in daycare 5 days a week.  Maybe he or she will have health problems our kid didn't have, God forbid.  Maybe you will decide your kid has to be dressed in fancy new clothes.  I don't know.

And I'm sure there are things I'm not considering.  I'm sure there is a tax benefit to having kids--because I own a small business, I can write off daycare expenses, and you get a tax credit for every child you have.  So you should factor that into your calculations.  I also want to be clear that I recognize our enormous privilege here:  we both have jobs we love that pay us decent (though not excessive) wages; we have health coverage; we have 401ks.  We have some debt, but on the whole we're in pretty good shape financially.

Of course (necessary disclaimer here), my kids are not quantifiable, not reducible to numbers.  The joy and depth they bring to my life is incalculable, so this post is really just an exercise, something to notice and be aware of.  I suppose that's what I would tell my friends who want kids, now, if they make enough and have some left over:  yes, do it.  It will make your life so rich.  But it will definitely make your pocketbook poorer.

Snow Schmow

Hmmm.  These were my first three thoughts this morning, upon waking:

1.  I don't think snow is pretty anymore.

2.  I'm going to be home with the kids, inside, all day, again.

3.  I hate snow.

Classes start next week, and I'm glad to be teaching again.  I'm teaching a new film class, and have some new ideas to test out for my other classes.  But I have a lot of work to do before then, and because we only have one car that can drive in the snow (which never seems to stop falling), Eric is taking it to work today, and I'm home with the kids.  This, because it is snowing, yet again, here in Denver.  For the third weekend in a row.   

I'm sure there's a lesson in this, involving--oh, I don't know--letting go?  Surrendering?  But I'm also feeling grumpy, and a little groggy, even after a cup of coffee and a cup of green tea.  I'm just not in the mood to play 300 games of Dora bingo, or paper dolls.  I don't want to sing "Rudolph the Red-Nosed Reindeer" again, and I'm tired of being urped on. 

As I wrote about here, I've been looking for ways to get some exercise everyday.  Because I canceled my membership to the gym (it was getting expensive, and I wasn't going much because hauling two kids there and back was too stressful), I've been trying to take walks or runs or do yoga at home.  I've also resorted to using a small collection of exercise tapes I have collected over the years during those desperate moments when I just wanted to change my life.  You know, Tae-bo, Windsor Pilates, step aerobics.  Eric lays in bed every night, snickering, while I sweat and quad-lift and roundhouse kick my way into a little sweat, in hopes of working off the 349 chocolate truffles I eat every day.

Because it is very difficult to get out at the moment without breaking your ass on a sheet of ice, I've been doing a lot of these tapes over the last few weeks.  Last night was Kathy Smith's lower body workout.  Between leg sweeps, I kept swearing at her.  "Bitch, 1, 2, 3, Lift, 1, 2,3."  I am so sore this morning.  My butt hurts just sitting here, and my quads were screaming as I squatted to put the chocolate pumpkin bread in the oven this morning.  The eating of which will necessitate a session with Susan Powter tonight after the kids are in bed.

So, I'm groggy, grumpy, and sore.  We're stuck inside while big, beautiful flakes swirl outside our windows.  We've got good music to listen to, and soon some hot pumpkin bread is going to emerge from the oven.  Addie has a ton and a half of new toys to play with from Christmas.  I'll have to work all weekend, but maybe today is a good day to just let Addie watch (yet another episode of) Dora, wallow in my gritchiness, and be thankful for some little pleasures.  Enough with the self-punishment.  I'm taking the day off.

Future Fears

Eric and I bought our first house in November, 2002, just a few short months after we got married.  I had a tiny (I mean TINY) little slice of stock in Albertson's grocery--I think almost every one in Idaho did, at one point--that I convinced my parents to let me cash out.  We combined this with some of the money we got for wedding gifts, used it for a down payment, and moved in.

The house was a wreck.  It had been empty for eighteen months while it was on the market, and some squatters had lived in it for a while.  Before that, it had been a rental with out-of-state landlords, the same landlords who refused to accept any decent offer on the house, listing it only "as-is."  Someone had come in before the house went on the market and had sprayed paint all over the walls (and hardwood floors) and had put in the cheapest carpet imaginable.  My guess is that this same person told the out-of-state landlords that he or she had "fixed the place up," which also meant stripping it of any and all fixtures in the house.  There was no kitchen, only an empty room with one cabinet and a tiny little sink.  There was linoleum everywhere that there wasn't crappy carpet.  There is no garage and the basement is unfinished.

But, we bought it.  At the time, the house seemed huge to us, and we didn't have kids, so fixing up the place sounded like fun (yes, I realize how completely insane this sounds, now).  Plus, the house was in a "low-income" neighborhood, so we got an excellent loan at a very low rate with no mortgage insurance.  We have done a lot of the work on the house, we make an extra mortgage payment every year, and our neighborhood is slowly but surely gentrifying, so we've built up some good equity and the value of the home has substantially increased.

Now it's 2007, and our lives look a lot different than they did in 2002.  We've got two precious babies, and we both work in cities a half hour away.  Though we don't accumulate a ton of material stuff compared to a lot of folks, the house is feeling small to us, and the drives to work are getting to be more of a hassle.  It takes me an hour to drop off both kids at their respective daycares in the morning and to get to work; it takes an hour to get back to Denver and pick them up.  In addition to paying for the gas of the drive, the girls are in daycare an additional 6 hours each week while I drive back and forth to work.  All told, we guess this adds up to an extra $200 a month in gas and daycare.

If we were to stay, we'd need to build a garage and have the basement refinished.  We definitely don't have the capital to do either, so these would have to be long-term plans.  In the meanwhile, we're outgrowing our space.

These reasons alone would be good enough motivation to consider to moving to Golden, where I work, or to Louisville, where Eric works.  I teach environmental studies, and thinking about global warming and peak oil is giving me hives, so it would be good if we could get down to one commute.  Since I'm usually the caregiver to take the girls and pick them up, we think it might make more sense to move to Golden.  Both cities are suburbs, but Louisville is, I don't know, a little more suburban.  Golden feels just a little more city, or closer to Denver, at least.

But I have mixed feelings about all this.  I was calling daycares in Golden yesterday to arrange visits so we can get on waiting lists for next fall, and I started feeling weepy.  I love Addie's preschool, and I love Miss Debbie, who watches Nolie.  I love our pediatrician.  I love living within walking distance of Denver's biggest park, and the zoo, and museums, and restaurants (even though we don't go out anymore).  I love living near downtown.  And we have put a lot of work into this old pit.  I have some nostalgia about it, too.

And, of course, there's the market, the market, the market.  Everyone has an opinion about whether or not we can even sell this thing, and for how much.  We want to sell it for enough to pay off our home equity loan and to garner a decent down payment on a new place (which will be more expensive than what we're in now, but also substantially bigger).  If we can do this--and I think we can--we'll just about break even financially every month (because of the savings we'll have in credit payments, daycare, and gas, and given the increases in the mortgage and utilities).

There's so many variables.  Will our house sell?  For how much?  Will we find the right house for us in Golden?  Will we like it there?  What if the house doesn't sell?  Will we decide to stay?  Or should we just find another place in Denver?  What if one of us loses a job and then we're stuck in a suburb to which we have no ties?

I'm realizing more and more that finances are not just numbers--they are deeply emotional issues, and interwoven tightly with who we are, what we value, and how we want to live.  But, as one of my mentors reminded me last December, "You can't plan for disaster."  Instead, I think we'll try to plan for the life that allows us to be happiest and most fulfilled, and hope we make the right choices.

Word Games

 

Addie walked into the kitchen while I was making breakfast this morning, adorned in her Piglet outfit, which now serves as very cozy jammies, and asked, "Is it hot in here, or is it just me?"

It's pretty weird hearing all of these grown-up phrases coming out of my toddler's mouth.  I mean, she's a little young for hot flashes, right?  I know she probably doesn't know what these things mean, that she's just parroting what she hears at school or from us or from her dress-me-up Elmo doll (a Christmas present from her Nana Debbie and Grandpa Bill).  But it's still a little jarring.

We were in the car on the way to preschool yesterday, and Addie was asking me what rhymes with tall (this is in line with her new fascination with rhyming everything).  We went through a list of words--ball, call, small--her nodding after each one.  I finally came to the word "pall." 

"Mommy!" she said, in that exasperated voice that I thought I wouldn't hear until she was a teenager, "Paul is a Beatle.  And so is John.  John works with Daddy." 

As do Ringo and George, apparently.

Anyway, Addie is up in her room now for quiet time, singing softly to herself, and every now and then punctuating one of her songs with a very loud, very expressive "ROCK ON!  ROCK ON!" 

Someone has been spending a lot of time with her daddy lately. 

Permitted Fruit

 

This is a picture of us on the plane to Idaho.  I was eating an apple when Nolie started to grab it and gum it.  She gummed it for a good fifteen minutes before I, like a ravenous castaway, snatched it from her and finished it.  But a beautiful light went on at that moment. 

Nolie might be ready for solids.

If you do have kids and breasts, and have used those breasts as the sole means of nourishment for those kids, you understand the importance of this epiphany.  If you don't have kids and breasts, you might not see why this is a big deal.  Let me see if I can explain.

I think I've mentioned that I have a special relationship with Nolie, one that is most tender and wonderful when she's nursing.  Except, of course, for those times when she's trying to remove my nipple from my body via her ultra-strong gum-clasp.

Nursing is great for many reasons--it forces me to sit with her and just be; it releases excellent relaxing chemicals in both of us; it's a chance for us to bond, and look into each other's eyes; and yes, I'll say it, it has helped to get off some of the pregnancy weight (though the last 10 pounds are like a weasly distant relative, out of work and sleeping on our couch, here to stay).  There's also the wonderful health benefits for her--breastfed babies tend to be less prone to infections and obesity later in life.

But breastfeeding can also be a huge pain in the ass.  I was walking to work from the parking lot today, negotiating the solid sheets of ice between me and my building, carrying a bag of books, my laptop, my purse, and the behemoth known as the "Pump In Style" breast pump, which can double for an ottoman in a pinch.  I will not miss hauling that thing around come weanday.  Had I fallen, it no doubt would have cracked the six feet of ice in the parking lot, making it impassable for motor vehicles.

There are also times when I don't really want to be put to sleep by the hormones that course through my body when nursing, like at noon, when I have a toddler to interact with.  But the minute Nolie latches, I might as well just tuck in and say nighty-night.  Addie might as well be raising herself at those moments. 

And, I don't love exposing myself to strangers in malls, airplanes, or doctors offices, though I certainly think women should be allowed and even encouraged to do so in the greater society.  Maybe if I had a stomach like Cameron Diaz I'd be more into it, but for now, hiking up my shirt to expose my white, white dinner roll-stomach and sand dollar-sized nipples isn't so great.

Then there's all the small physical annoyances--the tiny stretch marks, the bras that leave lumps (hubba-dubba boobs) as my overgrown breasts spill out in all directions, the unwanted cleavage at work, the leaking, the aching, the chafing, the squirting, the insatiable appetite at all hours of the day. 

Still, a month ago, I would have refused to give up nursing; I needed the time with Nolie, and felt her need for it even more deeply.  But now?  Well, it's a month later, and visions of breasts past are dancing in my head. 

This has been precipitated by the fact that for the last week Nolie has been tucking rather nicely into solids (she seems to like apple sauce and sweet potatoes pretty well) and is also taking the bottle better from Eric and Debbie.  And, we need not understate the fact that she has POOPED THREE TIMES IN THREE DAYS.  I've never been so happy to see poop in all my life.  Because, much as we as a culture pretend to hate our poop, and it stinks, and we like to flush it away, can you imagine life without it?  When's the last time you were constipated?  Sucks, doesn't it?

So, solids and soy formula seem to be a pretty handy mix; they seem to be loosening her tubes pretty good, and she might even be sleeping better (she slept for 9 hours straight last night).  Oh, I'm not ready to totally give up breastfeeding.  It's nice when she wakes in the middle of the night, or when she's really distraught.  I'm guessing I'll still keep a few feedings every day.  But I'm feeling a lot more ready for her, and me, to make this transition now. 

A Foul Wind

 

Occasionally I take a bath with Addie at night.  Not too often, because I typically like my baths scalding hot, and boiling your toddler is not recommended.  But every once in a while, I brave the tepid water and jump in with the kid, which she loves.

But let me backtrack.  Have I mentioned that Addie can fart like a sailor?  I used to work at a truck stop, and this kid could put those guys to shame, both in terms of volume and odor.  She is definitely our kid.

Basically, our approach to bodily functions is to laugh at them, because we are a family that has a lot of bodily functions.  So, when someone toots, we typically make a big production out of it.  As in, "Holy cow!  Did a truckload of skunks just get slaughtered?  Or did Daddy toot?  Peeeee-uuuuu!  Way to go, Sir Toots-A-Lot!"  And so on.  You get the picture.  We're pretty much constantly joking about toots around here, and Addie gets her fair share as the heir apparent to the Kingdom of Tootsville.

Addie is particularly skilled at tooting in the bath tub, which is occasion for much drama, because we all know what happens to a toot in the tub--loud and stinky, right?

Do you know where I'm going with this?

All this is by way of saying that we aren't shy about tooting around here, and that we talk about tooting a lot, and we toot a lot, and it makes us all laugh like idiots.  So, tonight, in the tub, (oh god, I can't believe I'm writing about this), I let a big toot fly.  Or gurgle, rather.

But instead of laughing and saying something like, "Mommy, you tooted!  You're so funny!"  Addie looks at me, completely straight-faced, waits the most perfect comic beat, and then says, "Mommy?  That's why we don't toot in the tub."

I stand corrected.  Apparently, we are no longer a family that toots in the tub.  Good to know.

Frosty's Revenge

I have never been the last person to leave a party, that I can remember.  I like to leave just as things are winding down, usually, and having kids has meant I typically have to be home early to relieve the babysitter, anyway.  In general, I don't like the feeling of overstaying my welcome.

But sometimes, you don't have a choice.  For example, when your city of residence gets socked with several feet of snow within a ten-day period, and you end up not being able to get home, and a very, very lovely visit with your family in Idaho goes just a little too long.  Denver got so much snow that we were able to carve this out of a bank in our front yard:

And that was before we left.  Before the second and third snowstorms hit, locking us out of the airport here (or at least we thought.  Turns out, our flight back to Denver wasn't actually canceled, but we probably wouldn't have been able to make the drive home from the airport because the streets were so nasty.)

But none of that really matters.   We had a great time in Idaho.  I love seeing my family, and it's all that much sweeter now because we get to watch the kids interact with their grandparents and aunts and uncles and cousins.  For example, it's like my mom was pretty much born to play pretend with grandkids someday.  She has saved all of these play cups and saucers and plates and a pint-sized stove from the fifties (which you can actually plug in and make work!!!  How has our species survived???).  She played "restaurant" for about a million hours with Addie, where Addie was the customer at "Molly's Restaurant" and my mom the waitress.  Addie rang up a serious tab that we have yet to reconcile, and probably wore my mom out with incessant pleas of "Play with me!  Let's go upstairs and read!  Let's play hide and seek!  Let's play restaurant!"  I was exhausted just watching it, but my mom was an amazing sport.

 

Then there was the big event itself--Christmas Day.  Despite all of my curmudgeonly complaining about swapping of presents and spending of money, it was exciting to watch Addie tear into those presents.  Twice.  Once in the morning at my mom's, once in the afternoon at my dad's.  If there's a perk of coming from a divorced family, this is it.  In particular, there was some crazy madness at my dad's when Addie and her three cousins tucked into the million and one presents their Uncle Jade and Aunt Heather and Uncle Joe had bought them.  It was, seriously, overwhelming, and wonderful.

But, as my mom and I mutually agreed on the phone today, it's good to be home and back to a routine.  There's still a crapload of snow on the ground, so things aren't completely back to normal, but we're home and unpacked.  The laundry is done and the new loot put away.  We go back to work tomorrow, and the kids go back to daycare.  And those suitcases are put away for a while, awaiting our next adventure with kids on a plane.