Ah, here we are – that time of year again. I always have mixed feelings about birthdays – gratitude for the sheer privelige of each passing year, with the nostalgic sense of time moving ahead in a very finite way. And these days I get wrinkles, saggy bits, and bad hangovers. But as my mother would say, the alternative is death, so yom huledet sameach!
But this year, something feels different – like everything has changed. I feel centred for maybe the first ever time and it’s causing tiny miracles.
For me the idea of being centred is that my whole self is in alignment. It’s about thinking and acting from a place which is calibrated with who I am. It sounds really obvious, but the magic is the extent to which this reduces tension and stress, because I’m not constantly pushing against myself.
Let’s be clear, I can still absolutlely be a twat, get things wrong, get antsy. But for whatever reason, at the moment that no longer equates to spiralling down a sink hole of guilt or shame. It’s like my mental company has shifted so that my inner voice is full of friendly compassion and not the negative drama queens who played a loop of what I was doing wrong and why it made me unloveable. And when I fail I try ad own it and learn from it, then move on, rather than seeing it as another foundation stone in an exhausting life of failure.
I’m also not totally sure where this has all come from. I’ve written a lot about micro-habits and small steps, and living mindfully, so maybe it’s a combination of all those things. Recently I’ve also been asking myself some tough questions, and trying to act on the answers. Why are you going out for a drink with those people when you always come away from their company feeling bad? Why are you second-guessing something you really liked after someone else was negative? What audience are you playing to here – and what validation are you seeking?
A lot of these are also essential FIRE questions – what decisions are you making, and based on whose opinion? By doing that, what are you denying your essential self either now or in the future? Breaking habits can be really hard, both for you and those around you when you start changing. And it’s a life time practice rather than a destination so it’s not like everything is solved forever.
Right now when the world is burning, it feels like a miracle to have come home to myself. Happy birthday indeed!
Schools have gone back here in Denmark, and even though it’s August it’s clearly heading towards autumn. Maybe September will be beautiful, but there is a chill in the air.
We have settled into the new house, and done the first week of school with the new route and routine, and I am getting to understand all the costs associated with this home (clue – it’s more of a mystery than it should be). I’m getting ready to reset my financial goals and as part of this I wanted to review my net worth. Buying a home definitely made my savings take a hit – some of it went to equity but some also to lawyers, removal men, registration fees and so on.
Whilst I usually do this in either April with the end of the tax year, of December, right now I have that new-school-year feeling so thought I would have a look!
So here are the totals and the comparisons, showing that I have a current net worth of £628,532.
Value July 2021
Value Dec 2020
Value April 2020
Value April 2019
Three of my four pensions are ‘defined benefit’ meaning that increases here come from money paid in to my current work pension (also defined benefit); and money paid in plus changes to investments on my SIPP. The projections for all my existing pensions, those from previous employmet plus the SIPP, comes to an income of around £11,881 per year. In my current job, if I leave before 2024 then I just get my contributions refunded so I won’t include a projection from that until I’ve worked out my time.
Over this time, my house in the UK hasn’t increased in value, and I slowed down additional mortgage payments to prepare for the new house purchase. I also put a solid deposit down on the Danish house, meaning my overall equity in property has increased to £400,000. This feels like a lot in terms of the balance, but as one of the houses is rented out and brings in a net income of around £10,000 a year, I am ok with it for now. The main part of that deposit was pulled out of savings, which is why that went down.
Either way this shows an increase in net worth of £28,705 over sevenmonths – an average of £4,100 per month. I am pretty pleased with that, especially with the significant amount of money spent on the house purchase, and it also shows me the need to bolster my savings and keep up the ‘set it and forget it’ aspects of my pensions. It also shows an increase of more than £200,000 in a little more than two years, which I am really proud of!
How is your net worth looking these days? I’d love to hear from you!
Trigger warning – this post talks about mental health issues including suicide. If you are having a hard time, please reach out to the Samaritans or someone else you can talk to.
I’m glad to be back after the holidays. Other than the great few days spent isolating at my brother’s I ended up mostly working, it was so important to reconnet with friends and family (and fish ‘n’ chips), and just be somewhere else.
I’ve also been focusing on supporting my son who had his first anxiety attack, on his twelfth birthday.
But he had an anxiety attack so strong and terrifyint that he was rushed to hospital for tests, and spent his birthday evening in a children’s ward. I was very glad for the support and calm care of the Danish health system, and for my boy’s tenacity and confidence in dealing with the episode. It was scary, but there was no shame around it.
My fear now, for both of us, is where this is coming from and what it means for his life. And that made me think about the relationships between fear and action. I should say upfront that I am not a doctor, psychologist or expert in anything other than my family and my opinions – which is what this blog is about. So if anything here triggers issues for you then please do get in touch with the professionals.
Money and mental health have been closely linked for a long time. UK charity MIND found that there is a cyclical relationship – having issues with money can negatively impact your mental health, making you feel anxious, unable to sleep at night or concentrate, and uncertain about the future. On the other hand having pre-existing mental health issues can make you struggle with money, whether through also finding it difficult to find or hold down a job, or to engage with things like communicating or negotiating with companies if you get into debt.
I don’t know what the answers are. From a FIRE perspective, the impact of the pandemic has made me beyond grateful that I have a steady job, no debt and an emergency fund. But with all the uncertainty it’s a terrifying time for people who are just getting started.
So the advice I leave you with is the same as the advice I am giving myself as a mum who is struggling, and that I have given to my son: be kind to yourself. Do the tiny steps which are open to you now, and don’t worry about those coming up in the future. You will deal with them when they come: you will have built the foundation you need through your small actions and you will be ready when they arrive. You don’t need to be ready now, you just need to be you. Breathe as deep as you can. Know that you are loved. You got this.
Ah June. Long (it’s Denmark, so very, very long) days; al fresco dinners in the garden; the start of the summer holidays; *all* the football at the Euros; and the last month in our rental home. I knew June and July were going to be pretty brutal, and that has been the case so far. Trying to juggle work which is super busy, the kids and school or clubs (or ‘I’m boooooooored muuuuuums’) and moving house has been a huge pain. My ability to handle pain is probably evident in my overspending this month.
A note on my budget check ins: I was reading through the other check ins from this year and it felt a bit like watching a learner driver repeatedly start off doing pretty well, then start skidding around, and crash toward the end of the test, every. single. time. I know I’ve overspent every month, to a greater or lesser extent, and whilst I do a lot of hand-wringing at the start of the month I have always got good reasons (ahem) to go ahead with the spend anyway. Recognising this, I plan to do a budget and spend overhaul from September, giving me the summer to get settled in the new house and really work out what I am doing, my medium term goals, and – more importantly – a plan.
So how did it go? It wasn’t that bad, but I can see a couple of interesting choices glaring out from the grid below.
% of monthly budget
Car (insurance, tax, petrol)
Entertainment – subscription
Kids – extra curricular
Shopping – general
Shopping – gifts incl birthdays
Shopping – clothes
Rent and Bills
So, once again I overspent my budget by A LOT, spending £6,913against a budget of £4,645:
My mum finally managed to come and visit which was amazing but meant covering her flights, tests and so on. This was well worth it for the support it povided us during a challenging time, and since she is on a small pension there is no way I would let her cover this.
I paid out for my daughter’s three after school clubs for the 2021-22 school year since they opened the registration for current students and the spots fill up quickly. This cost £1,275, or about £127 a month for the duration of the clubs. Since all her friends (four of them!) have left school this summer and moved away (downside to the expat life) and things might feel a bit lonely for her, I figure that having some clubs where she also has friends will be comforting.
I had three big splurges, one of which was an accident:
Since it was the Euros football was on, and I LOVE football, I went to see most of the matches at the pub with friends. The atmosphere was amazing, and supporting both Denmark and England meant a lot ot good times. It also meant a £300 bar tab over the month.
We had a few colleagues in my team leave this month as well, some people who have been in the team for five years. We had a huge team dinner and I covered the bill of £350 with an understanding that we would work out how to share this – that hasn’t happened yet, but it will.
I, um, might have had a moment during a LEGO sale. It was half price and I have two LEGO-loving kids, so a £400 moment occurred. This will cover my son’t upcoming birthday and major Christmas gifts for them both, so I tell myself it was a good idea!
So what did I save? Again I focused on getting the last of the money together for our house move including £3,000 for the removal men/house preparation etc , so I have just been putting extra into my current account to make sure the money is there for whatever comes up. No great savings news then, but at least I carried on with the usual basics which is still savings (or paying toward capital) of £ 2,348.
Monthly saving plan
% of plan
Mortgage (UK house)
So this month, again, an unimpressive savings rate of 20% compared to spending 80%. July will also likely be odd again due to the move but I am glad that at least I kept to the regular savings. I need to do a mid year review of our net worth, since I have moved a lot into the new house.
So how was your June? And your summer budget planning? I’d love to hear from you!
I wrote last week about buying a $1 milion home: over the last few days we got the keys and have been cleaning, painting and generally getting ready for the furniture move on Monday. Oh, and sort of freaking out about the whole thing but that’s pretty normal.
I want to say upfront that I never had a divorce settlement. I didn’t “get half the house” or much less “take him to the cleaners”. For all sorts of reasons that probably require some kind of therapy to understand, my marriage didn’t involve the mingling of finances, or equal financial engagement, at all. The good thing is that we took that attitude to the divorce meaning that I took out what I put in. Given that it was my money anyway, and I also did all the childcare, I can live with that. Note: many other ways of being married, or divorced, or thinking about money and marriage are available, and I wish you joy of them.
So how DID I get here?
A combination of luck, privilege and focus. It’s important to recognise that the focus itself might not have been enough – luck (mostly around timing) and privilege definitely helped. That’s not to say that this is not an option for others, but I see a lot of people talking about how they bought a house all by themselves whilst the back story shows how much they relied on their parents. So let’s be honest. I found it hard – other people will find it much much harder. But it’s not impossible.
House 1: bought for £55,000 sold for £110,000
My partner and I decided to try and buy twenty years ago, when I was 22. We had been living together for five years and rents in our home town were rising all the time. Even at that point the average property price for a two-bedroom home (a flat in the fancy part of town, a house in the non-fancy) was £170,000, and amount that would have required me to be earning £45,000. I was fortunate to get a great job out of university on £18,000, but that was still a world awya, and my partner’s self-employed income was limited as he established his business.
So we found the only thing we could afford, in a tower block on a housing estate, and bought it. We were always really frugal, and had been saving since we got together, saving £10,000. The flat was on the eighth floor though, meaning it wasn’t possible to get a mortgage. Here’s the privilege: my partner’s parents lent us the rest of the money. We set up a repayment plan in line with current mortgage rates, and continued to be frugal, doing a lot of work ourselves and taking in a lodger in the second bedroom though we didn’t pay off much extra on the loan.
When we split up four years later, we had the flat valued at £110,000. Based on splitting the equity 50:50, I got £30,000. I put this in a savings account and went off to pursue my humanitarian career overseas.
House 2: bought for£170,000, sold for £270,000
So by this point I am 30, and have a baby. I have a confused marriage where he is overseas (and not contributing anything financially or emotionally) and things are rocky. I am back in my hometown and the cost of living seems to be crazy. For the first time, I am fully responsible for another human being and realise I have no idea what I’m doing.
So I decide to buy a house and settle down. I still have an income that counts for a mortgage, even though it’s from a charity based overseas. And since I was living in South Sudan / Uganda / Rwanda for the past four years I have also added to my savings pot so with the equity from my first home I have a £70,000 deposit.
The luck here is that it is 2009. House prices dropped by 16% in 2008 and I looked at a lot of repossessions which seemed heart-breaking. I wanted to stay on the same housing estate, but also realised pretty quickly that I couldn’t afford to live in another part of town. So I was looking at the lower end of the price range for a house. And my goodness I saw some unloved, filthy heaps.
Eventually I found a four bed house in a quiet cul-de-sac (important on a house estate with a reputation for joy riders) and put in an offer. Then I found that the flipside to 2008 was that banks were not keen to lend money to single people with precarious incomes. Around the same time my lovely granny passed away and left my family an inheritance (likely the only one we will ever get since we are not that kind of family).The bank will still not lend me the money. So again with the privilege – my mum and siblings club together their inheritances and lend me the other £100,000.
It’s hard to overestimate how much work needed doing: it had no heating at all, asbestos in the roof, single glazing, an extension which hadn’t been approved and had to be formalised by building standards, a kitchen where there were actual human turds in the cupboards. Safe to say I called in a lot of favours over the years, and did a lot on credit.
I had another two years overseas with my work, and rented the place out. Since I wasn’t entitled to a pension in that job (long story – I keep planning a series of posts entitled ‘mistakes I made with pensions, and why it’s a massive headache’ so do come back for more) I focused on the house as my main asset and worked on paying off my family. In 2014 I came back, thinking I would stay in the UK, and realised that now my son was older I didn’t want to stay on our housing estate. So I sold the house for £270,000, repayed my family loans, and had £140,000 to use as a deposit.
Phew. I think I would have made it without the family help as banks unclenched and my income settled, but it might have taken a lot longer. And living in a city where house prices have gone up 300% in 20 years, every year counts.
House 3: Bought for £352,000. Currently worth £400,000
This is my sensible house, and ironically we have only ever lived in it for six months. I bought really planning to stay in the UK, but then with work and other issues (not least pension obsession which kicked in at 35) I took another overseas job with the kids and we moved to west Africa. I rented the house out, and, given that accommodation was provided in my new job, I put a lot of extra money toward the mortgage. I took out a mortgage of £152,000 and currently owe just £50,000 – that means I have paid off £100,000 in five years. I aim to have it completely paid off by the time we leave Denmark.
So there we go. A rollercoaster ride which would not have been possible without the support of family, an early start, a high savings rate and a risk-taking approach. I wanted to just put some honesty out there about how this all happened for me – however hard I work and save (and I do work and save very hard) without that additional help, things would at the very least have taken a lot longer.
So – whats your housing story? And how can we think about collectively helping one another for those people in our situation who don’t have family support? I’d love to hear from you!
I wrote recently about buying a house as a single parent (TL:DR – it’s really, really hard) but this week I want to share the exciting news that we are about to move in to our new home. and for lots of reasons, it’s a home worth $1 million. [note – I usually share my figures in £ but it sounds better in dollars so I am doing it, just this once].
Side note: I was talking to a married friend about this and she said ‘but why do you keep saying WE bought a house? I mean, you’re doing it alone’. In mentally wrestling with this I can’t decide if it makes me feel annoyed since my family unit counts as a ‘we’ since it isn’t a pronoun that couples somehow own. Or perhaps she meant it in a kindly way to recognise the challenges. Either way, it’s the kind of comment which wastes my mental space so I share it with you here in the hope that I can then forget about it. In case it stays confusing, ‘we’ in our case means myself and my children. Plus I promised that we can get a cat, so the moggy counts too.
So, we bought a house! I wrote back in November about planning to do this, a post which built on three months of decision making since our landlord told us that – like many people during COVID – had decided that they wanted to move back home. It has been a long long process since then, and it has meant putting other financial goals on the backburner. Plus actually it has been stressful and knackering, but since we had to move out anyway some of this was unavoidable.
I shared this before but if you are really interested in the nuts and bolts of buying a house in Denmark you need this fantastic and very detailed guide, but below are the steps that I took as a British expat:
1. Had a browse of the market. This was the point when I realised what kind of price band we were looking at. We wanted a house with a garden, in the suburbs, with four bedrooms and some separated space (i.e. not a single storey) so that there is room to have childcare support who can stay over, and within walking distance to the train which will take us to work and school. Unfortunately this is what pretty much everyone else is looking forespecially post-COVID, driving up the speed of the market and house prices. But this was a useful step as it showed me the kind of thing that was available and the amount of mortgage I would need to make it work.
2. Looked for a mortgage. In Denmark, there aren’t really mortgage brokers which means you have to do all the legwork yourself. In the end I used a broker who specialises in working with expats since, not surprisingly, all the paperwork including the surveys are all in Danish. The first calls I made to banks showed that I was eligible for a mortgage but as an expat I would need a 20% deposit – or to find, up front, about £155,000. It is testament to how much I wanted to get out of paying our extortionate rent that I looked into remortgaging my UK home in order to find this deposit. I couldn’t make this work (for lots of reasons though I did find one broker who would do it, it came with conditions I didn’t want to accept) so I went to the Danish broker. They found me a mortgage with a 10% deposit (where the bank provides the 80% mortgage still but then also grants a 10% loan). In the end this was a saving grace since it made me stick to a lower overall budget. And let’s be frank, that was still a budget of $1m which makes me twitch just a little every time I think about it.
3. Made some hard financial decisions. The 10% requirement means that I had to find £80,000 for the deposit. I was able to do this by pulling various savings and investments. I took out almost my whole £40,000 emergency fund leaving just £3,000. I also pulled money from investments – with stocks and shares ISA there’s no fees or penalties to take money out, but I withdrew a lot and left £12,000. I really reflected for a long time on whether this was a good idea, since it took a lot to build up those pots of money, but looking at the balance of risk I think that we stand to be better off in the long run unless a black swan event turns up. And we might have had enough of those for a while….
4. Looked for a house. Oh. My. Goodness. this was the painful bit. Being a) on a tight budget (for Copenhagen) and b) quite detail oriented, I ended up looking at 40 houses. I made offers on two, both of which were rejected – one where someone else beat us to it, and one where the survey showed it needed a new roof and the owners wouldn’t accept a lower offer based on the money needed to do that. But, after spending every weekend for months looking at houses, we finally found a house that fits the bill. Hurray!
5. Did all the paperwork and processes. This is pretty easy in Denmark thankfully – the bank also has amazing processes where they organise paying over the mortgage at the right moments which also removes the possibility of getting scammed which scared me witless when buying my UK home. You have to have home insurance in place, and a kind of insurance which protects everyone in case there is something that the house survey has missed.
6. Made my peace with the compromises. So I am not quite there with this one, but it’s coming. We had to move further out than I would have wanted, and to a slightly different part of town to where we are now (and where our friends are). We are at the top end of my ‘distance from train’ condition, ditto ‘size of garden’. But I am hopeful that once we settle in and stop comparing to where we are now, I’ll forget about these things and enjoy our new home in peace.
So there we go. I post on Sundays, and this time next week (all being well) we will have the new house and be sorting it out – the weekend after we will be all moved in. Wish us luck!
Hope is the thing with feathers, as Emily Dickinson said. After a few weeks of ‘coping’, this week I am back to full on hope.
Hope is the foundation of all my decision making – and the thing which keeps me tenacious and working in spite of appearances when it feels like things aren’t moving. Believing that you can change things, whether it’s your bank balance or how the world views you, means believing in the possibilities enough to carry on.
There have been so many things which make me feel blessed and hopeful recently. The summer weather and breeze, spending hours at the beach getting some energy back (and some vitamin D). The end of another school year and brilliant school reports for both my kids talking about how they are doing well but how they are kind and thoughtful: reminding me that however I feel I am doing as a parent, it’s good enough. Small things, but small things is what we have.
FIRE is all about hope to me. Hoping that I can give my kids a better future – including being there for them in person at different times in their lives, really loving them, and giving them the conditions to thrive. Hoping that I can live my values. Hoping that I can support my family by myself but doing so in a way which aligns to my values and my contribution to the world.
But hope isn’t enough by itself.
Showing up day after day, doing the work, making the tweaks. One thing I’ve learnt is the need to be patient with myself. Keeping the faith is half the battle – the other half is doing the next right thing, however tiny it feels.
What is making you hopeful this week? I’d love to hear from you!
I wrote in November that I was thinking about buying a house here in Denmark. My contract is, all things being equal, at least for another 3.5 years, which means an awful lot more horribly expensive rent. Plus since my landlord is coming back and we have to move anyway, incurring both the costs of spending an awful lot of time looking for somewhere and organising and paying for movers.
So we have bought a house!
I’ve been looking since September, and it has been absolutely brutal. As with many places, already high house prices have continued to rise during COVID and family properties (as we are looking for) have increased even more as people look to move out of apartments. In Denmark, the supply is also quite low, meaning that there just aren’t enough properties to go around. I almost wish we had bought the first thing we saw in September, since that will have gone up in price by about 8% since we saw it.
In the UK, you can usually borrow four-and-a-half times your income meaning you need to earn £56,888 in order to qualify for a mortgage. With the average income being just over £31,400 (and that already the median, so it will be skewed by very high and very low earners) this means that the majority of people – and any single person who is not a majorly high-earner – is priced out of the UK housing market. Since one-third of single parents were living in poverty before the pandemic, and have been one of the groups hardest hit in terms of income partly due to an inability to work and manage kids at home alone, buying a house can seem a million miles away from many single parents who are already working their hardest to create a secure future for their kids.
Denmark, like many countries, has other alternative options including Andelsbolig which is co-operative housing offering both affordable rental and houses to purchase. The conditions of being part of the co-op mean that it’s not possible to take advantage of the system and the apartments (not usually houses) stay in the relevant pricing market and can benefit others in the future should someone move on.
This month, the Australian government took the incredible step of recognising this issue for their citizens and actually doing something about it. The New Home Guarantee scheme will allow single parents to buy with just a 2% deposit, with the federal authorities guaranteeing the other 18%. It is only available to 10,000 women (about 10% of Australia’s 1 million single mums) and whilst that might be a drop in the ocean it has to be celebrated as an approach which both recognises that we have assets and incomes but struggle to get over specific hoops in many financial processes.
I wonder if the UK Government would back a similar scheme? Though with the income needed to buy a house, there will still be struggles for the majority of the almost 3 million single parents in the UK. Sometimes I think the best solution is housing co-ops where we can live with multiple families and share some of the burden.
But until we get to radical social change, creating support structures so that all families can leverage their income-generating power to build assets and have somewhere secure for their children to grow, should be an area for policy makers to think about. Generational wealth has a significant impact on society, and single parenthood – and the intuitional fabric which keeps people in poverty stuck in that cycle – prevents people from building wealth to hand on. There is a direct relationship with this and continued income inequality which has wide-ranging social implications. And, if you are living it, absolutely sucks you dry.
What’s your story been with housing? I would love to hear from you!
Ah, life. From Life improvements, to one small thing, to overwhelm, to just being flat-out knackered. I am glad to be here and writing as part of my commitment to writing this blog, but I have no thoughts in my head this week. It’s (finally) a beautiful day, and I just want to lie on the grass and enjoy the big blue sky.
Sometimes, I think it’s ok to just do what you want. To focus on the pleasure and not the end result.
Maybe that’s always a better way to enjoy the journey?
We’re supposed to be getting ready to move house, and this week I just didn’t want to deal with is. So I sorted through my two bookshelves, gave away the books that didn’t ‘spark joy‘. And then colour-coded the rest.
It turns out that colour-coding your bookshelves is a hotly debated topic. Which suggest that we all have too much time on our hands, but anyway. Some people think that it turns books into home decor rather than the very serious life statement that they are. But they *are also* decor – I look at them, in my bedroom, every day. These are books which have travelled with me, many for a long time, and form part of my mental furniture. I know what colour they are and can find them to read. And if I can’t I have just as many minutes to find it as I would if I couldn’t remember the author.
I also spent an evening making a piece of art work, thinking about movement, connection, and flow. Did it help me save more money? Nope. Did it prepare lunches for tomorrow? Not at all. But it did help me get back into some kind of flow state where I could tap into something that wasn’t just the daily grind.
In some ways this is a much more FIRE mentality that the 18-hours-a-day laser focus that I had last week. Yes of course do the work, but stop and smell the roses. And find ways where doing the work creates some freedom for you to put down the worries and the stress and get things done without thinking, second-guessing or being anxious.
Like I have to make food, but the meal-planning and budgeting around grocery shopping means that I can either mindlessly throw something together or I can take a little bit of time to make something lovely.
It reminds me a bit of Catherine Gray‘s book ‘The Unexpected Joy of the Ordinary‘ – or indeed the Disney movie Soul – both of which are about taking life one deep lungful of fresh air at a time, and enjoying them all as much as possible. Truly, each one is a gift, even if it’s full of meetings, and emails, and stressy moment. There are always tiny nuggets of joy, if you look for them.
So that’s it for this week. I would love to hear about your tiny gems of joy for this week!
I feel like I’m getting down to brass tacks here. My last two posts felt like digging down: from looking to improve by 1%, to trying to do just one thing. This week I have been feeling overwhelmed, and not trying to improve anything.
I want to recognise here that I am writing as a single parent, and for many of us overwhelm is just moments away at any given time. It’s also a terrifying prospect – if I fall apart, who will step in? For some people, a nearby and responsible co-parent might be on hand, or grandparents and that is wonderful. But for many, there isn’t anyone. As an expat with long working hours I have always relied on paid help which is both a solution and a cause of guilt and, frankly, expense, administration and extra work on my part.
The invisible workload of mothering (yes, mothering rather than parenting, unless you are a single dad – recognising it and owning it as gendered is a feminist position) is exhausting. There is a great post from 2018 called ‘the invisible workload of motherhood is killing me‘ which, of course, I only just found time to read. Its is an accurate and helpful portrayal of what parenting looks like – and it’s just the day to day of parenting, not what it looks like to be trying to reach FIRE, or date, or anything else at the same time.
Motherhood is in any case fraught with issues. There have been a host of articles recently about fatherhood during the pandemic and how dads are starting to appreciate the whole of parenting. But this is against a background in which women are expected to take the domestic burden (unless someone chooses to step in), though we are also expected to work as well, though by the time a woman’s oldest child is 12 she is likely to be paid one-third less than male counterparts. On my FIRE journey, earning less, and being responsible for each and every cost in the home, has a significant impact on the timeline, and likelihood of becoming financially independent. It’s not like there aren’t exceptions of course. But the system is stacked against single mothers, and in my experience, also has no sympathy for us. I would be furious, if I wasn’t so tired.
Following my last two posts, I have been hyper-aware this week of why I am overwhelmed. And it’s two things – first, the sheer magnitude of All The Things. Work, kids, feeding everyone, administration of the home, family and friends, and anything I need. Secondly, it’s the constant mental engagement – the ‘invisible workload’. Planning, organizing, working around, being in communication, trying to soothe, calm, engage, nourish and play.
I. Am. Knackered.
So this week I just want to get off my chest what last week, a pretty average week (since the kids are back in school but I am still not travelling yet), looks like.
Up at 5am every day. Drink coffee, shower. Put on some cream which is supposed to stop my now 40-year-old face looking like a pterodactyl. One hour’s work before getting the kids up. Make breakfasts (remembering who doesn’t like what, this week, or today) include fruit and vitamins. Drink more coffee. Answer work WhatsApp messages whilst listening to kids. Have the news on the radio – answer questions from my eldest about Gaza. Clear up breakfast stuff, get everyone to brush teeth and hair, check bags and out the door. Cycle with kids to school then either cycle home or to the office to start work by 8.30 – cycled 24 miles in total last week.
Work. Just so much of it. Last week I had 43 meetings, many of them back-to-back (to the point where I have to turn off video and sneak out to pee). Meetings with offices in Bangladesh at 6am my time, or with Colombia at 10pm my time. Meetings which I have to prepare for, do slide decks for, present at wearing a proper jacket and with brushed hair. Meetings which I get invited to 30 minutes before hand. Then reviewing documents, checking budgets, writing things for other people to present in other meetings. Sometimes getting overwhelmed by the heartbreak of working in the humanitarian field, where the work we do is to prevent human tragedy, but the human tragedies continue on a horrifying scale.
Do all the other things which are about staying ‘professionally relevant’ and making up for the time I spent off work at home with the kids. This week it was co-chairing a conference, so review 64 papers (to be fair, I did this over two weeks but outside of office hours). Have calls with peers, including people who want advice, and people I want to advise me. Fiddle about on LinkedIn to feel engaged.
Organise kids’ after school stuff, though I don’t usually pick them up (which they hate – please mummy please pick us up from school all the other mums are there). One playdate at our house, one at another. Make sure bags are ready for football training, call another mum about sharing pickup after one session. Swimming club, ballet, blah. Encourage children to carry on when they want to give up, listen to enthusiastic replays when they are excited. Give pep talks when they are not picked for something, like my daughter this week after not getting a part in a ballet after auditioning. Organise birthday party – emails emails to a trampoline place, checking prices, feeling guilty about throwing money at the problem rather than having them all do something wholesome and free at my house where I pick playdoh out of the carpet for weeks afterwards. Invite others, navigate times, dietary requirements, passive-aggressive responses. Order balloons for the birthday itself, wrap presents (thanking Previous Self who bought them).
Make six dinners (four people since I do all the cooking and we have a nanny who eats with us) = so 24 dinners. One take away as it’s a birthday. Make packed lunches for the three of us for all five days = 15 lunches. Meal plan and shop based on this, calorie count everything for myself for six days (not Saturday, that’s free). Continually stay aware of what we have in the cupboards and fridge, who might want something different, what we ate last week so that I don’t get complaints of sameness. Two supermarket visits, the main Sunday one then another one for bread/milk/eggs/fruit on Thursday. Discuss and think endlessly about how to eat better food which has less impact on the planet; how to get my daughter to eat more fruit and veg; and how much I resent always being responsible for cooking.
Got to the gym twice (for a special physiotherapist work out where I get chased around by a shouting man who makes me do squats outside where People Can See). One massage – first for 18 months, definitely the highlight. One coaching session. Read two books – finished one from last week and finally read City of Girls. Plan, research and write this blog. Hoover (not weekly, let’s be clear) the car and filed it with petrol; applied for a new driving license; paid a bill for my house in the UK; argued a utility bill for the house in Denmark which insists I pay upfront for a full year even though we are moving in July. Called my mum four times, and other friends and family – including a friend who I WhatsApp with on a daily basis – as much as possible, usually whilst doing some of the other things. Weekly budget check in – review all back accounts including savings, check spend, work out what to move around if I have gone over.
Make sure kids are bathed, teeth brushed, ready for the next day and in bed. Read to them, referee usual argument (not sure what it is about 19.30 which turns my kids into savages but there you go). Tuck them in, sing songs, calm and soothe twice when one of them came downstairs upset about something (once, a kid at school who was mean; second time, climate change and when we are all going to die). Look at their beautiful sleeping faces and ache with love. Go to bed and prepare to do it all again tomorrow.