Behind The Curtain: Motherhood and Financial Realities
What’s the toughest thing for me these days?
From the outside it looks cush. Our Thule jogging stroller is stacked. Hero is bundled in a black fleece blanket, surrounded by his choice friends, a sheep named Val, Blue Bunny and Blue Bunny’s baby – a smaller, velveted brown lop. I’m wearing my hat I bought in Berlin and a sleek backpack filled to the brim with sandwiches, organic fruit, and granola bars. Plus? My socks match.
Yet, I can’t afford a car of my own.
We are rich. Showered and doused in wealth. But despite the façade of abundance, my bank balance tells a different story. After years of indulgences pre-baby, the only thing I really spend my money on these days after bills is coffee, the occasional boutique tin of CBD mints and my monthly subscription to Glo – a meditation and yoga app.
“Why do you need $500?” Christian looks up from the CashApp request. I swallowed hard and spoke slowly as I explained. I’m good at justifying my expenses to myself. To my husband? It means the world to me that I get it right. He works 50-hour weeks at the restaurant while I worked about 10 hours a week, give or take, as a freelance marketer. But when you factor in my hours as our son’s primary caregiver? Yeah. Even I don’t want to see those numbers. It’s unpaid. It’s important.
But asking him for money is still incredibly difficult for me.
As our new family buys, spends and invests, my vertigo increases. I have so little coming in, compared to what goes out, charged on the family card. As I navigate these daunting responsibilities, I find solace in my art. When I have a successful show, once or twice a year, the funds go where I choose, usually a vacation. Oh, it did before. But now? Everything is on display.
When we decided to have a baby, Christian and I knew our lifestyles would change. Even so, we said time and again, I would not be forced to give up my theatrical career to be a stay-at-home mom. I would go on tour to perform my cabaret shows and when opportunities arose in Seattle I would take them! Christian and Hero would have my back. We would be those cool, artist parents. He would shift his restaurant work around what worked best for my performance schedule. But yes, obviously. He would work full time as a chef, and I would be the primary caregiver until a big show came around. Of course, I would still pay my share. Somehow!
Oh, the things we said before Hero was born. Hey, at least we were talking. But two people who love each other can talk til the cow jumps over the moon, and still be surprised on the daily.
Christian and I making all the plans pre-baby, photo: Joe + Jill Studios
“The $500? I need it for the Portland AirBnB”
“Is that all of it?”
“No” I say, a wave of frustration washing over me, “No. It’s 1200 for a week, with an extra room so Peiyi can drive down and babysit Hero when you see the show.”
“I guess I thought the company would play for a place for you to stay”
No. NO. As a producer I rent an apartment for the artists to stay, on couches and sharing beds. Not for me to bring my family. And I won’t be able to pay Christian back til the receipts come in, after the show is complete.
Because this may be my creator/producer/performer career, but we’re all paying for it.
My planned vacations? They are padded around my art, my work. The trade is that Christian comes with and gets to be the full-time Dad he increasingly wants to be. He’s worked his way up in the kitchen to have two things – the freedom to choose his position, and the opportunity to teach others as he grows. The overtime was a given, #cheflife. Enter that feeling of vertigo – Is that what he really wants? Through his eyes, I see my own determination mirrored back at me.
“What’s up honey” Christian’s face looks down at me from the Facetime, he’s sitting on the curb outside the walk-in cooler of Harry’s Beach House. I’ve called him during the middle of his 10 hour shift.
“I just had to talk to you. We have to cancel the tour. Dismal ticket sales. And it’s not just the company that will be losing money.” I gulp. I have to be honest. “We’ve lost money, the AirBnB only refunds half of what we paid.”
“I’m sorry, my love. There will be more shows.”
Yes, I failed. I bet and lost, with our family’s finances on the line. But Christian’s not concerned about the money, he’s thinking about me, and my dream. He understands. But the biggest gift he’s given me? He’s passing this faith on to our son, a legacy of creativity and resiliency. Hero always repeats what his magic Daddy says. And with both on my side? I can do anything, even that toughest thing – I can make room in the budget for new dreams.
Hero and I this past summer. New dreams, here we come.