Parenthood and the Work-Spend Treadmill

Over pancakes on Sunday morning, I read my husband a portion of a story in The New York Times called "But Will It Make You Happy?" The piece begins with the tale of Tammy Strobel, an unhappy California project manager earning $40,000 a year, who felt stuck on the "work-spend treadmill." She and her husband, both 31, began giving away what they own, and moved to Portland, Oregon. They shed their cars and $30,000 in debt, and now live in a 400-square-foot apartment; he is finishing his Ph.D., and she is able to pay all their bills on $24,000 a year.

My husband immediately said the four little words I was thinking: "They have no kids."

I lived like the Strobels in my 20s and early 30s — in a small, affordable New York apartment with a roommate, which meant I could savor the energy, culture and nightlife of the greatest city in the world, and even fly to Paris for a long weekend when the fares were cheap and the hostels had an empty bed. Research shows if you want to get the most happiness from your money, spend it on experiences.

Now that I have three kids, I spend more time thinking about making money and fooling around with budgeting software than checking the price of fares to Paris. Because when you become a parent, what you value most isn't found in a far-flung foreign capital — it's likely snuck into your bed in the middle of the night, stealing the covers.

And you want to give them everything. Not stuff — we think it's better to meet a new friend in the park than buy a swingset for the backyard; better to drive to the beach for a day than to the mall; better to live in a smaller house with a shorter commute so you can have dinner together most nights, than a McMansion where you can spread out so far your paths barely cross (and you spend so much time working to pay the mortgage you don't enjoy it anyway).

But miraculously, your kids start to blossom into themselves — your seven-year-old falls in love with the piano, your ten-year-old (of her own accord) with Mandarin, and your 13-year-old asks if she can go to an all-girls private high school because she'd learn better in that environment. You want so much to facilitate educational challenges and experiences that help them find their life's path, that instill confidence and joy. Try as you might to set limits, make wise trade-offs, and avoid the child-enrichment industrial complex — particularly the time suck of traveling sports teams — your simple, frugal lifestyle becomes increasingly complicated.

You find yourself on a different kind of work-spend treadmill. You're not working to buy a bunch of materialistic junk, but investing in what is most precious to you. But it's a work-spend treadmill nonetheless. The reward of parenthood is a transcendent happiness — that goes hand in hand with a daily grind that starts in 3 a.m. feedings and continues through very large checks written to institutions of higher education. Call it the price of love.

I would advise the frugal-minded who are facing parenthood to make very intentional decisions. Choose a state and city where the cost of living is more accommodating to families, and where the tax burden is low. Choose housing in the best public school district you can afford, but in a neighborhood where families share similar values around money. Trade size for location, so your commute to work is short and your time together long. Live within your means, and save early and often for college and retirement.

In other words, keep it simple.

Were you able to maintain the simplicity and frugality of your childless years when you had kids? How?