Good Enough Page 8
Housing and childcare are the main expenses, and it appears the older you are and the more you earn, the more you’re likely to spend. Still, regardless of age or economic status, the biggest financial black hole families admitted falling into was failing to account properly for all the hospital bills involved with delivering a baby. It seems most expectant parents are budgeting around $776 to cover out-of-pocket delivery costs, but around one in four of us ends up spending more than $2000 on these services alone. And why not? Most of us assume the health insurance we pay so dearly for each month will be covering most of these costs, right? WRONG! If you’re compos mentis enough to have increased your level of cover a good three months before conception (and hats off to you, by the way), you’ll probably still be bummed when you realise it won’t cover out-of-hospital expenses such as your obstetrician’s appointments (of which you’re likely to have about 15 by the time you’re 40 weeks), a pregnancy management fee at a national average of $1700 (or, if you’re in Sydney, an eye-watering $4000 to $5000), and antenatal tests and screening, some of which can cost between $500 and $1500 a pop if you have them done at a private practice. Admittedly, Medicare does offer rebates for most things, after which you receive almost 100 per cent back once you pass the safety net threshold of $1200 – quickly done when you’re pregnant.
Still, the great thing about all this spending from the get-go is that it eases you into the feeling of haemorrhaging money rather quickly, because unless your plan is to spew the little buggers out into the street and let them fend for themselves, haemorrhaging money is exactly what you’ll be doing for the next 20 or more years as you continue to breed and raise your children to adulthood. And if you’re ready to face the figure of how much it costs to get your kids to the ripe old age of 18, brace yourself: $1,000,028.93 to raise the average family of 2.7 kids. Of course, if you want to cut corners, you could just make do with the one kid and that figure will drop right down to $555,013. That means an average yearly spend of $30,834 on that child alone to cover costs such as childcare, food, clothing and footwear, education, leisure, personal care, transport and health. Add another 50 grand if you want to send him or her to a private school. Feeling clucky for some siblings? You may want to consider a cat.
Social researcher Mark McCrindle says the cost of raising children in Australia is higher than it’s ever been and I can’t say I’m surprised. Not when parents are buying higher end prams costing upwards of $1500 (around the same price as my first car), and many cots demand the better part of a cool G. You can buy most items second-hand online or from markets such as Baby and Kids Market of course, but if you’re going for brand new items, you can look forward to: a state-of-the-art car seat ($600); baby carrier ($200); rocker ($160); designer nappy bag ($400); nappies (going through approximately ten a day for a newborn at a rough cost of 31 cents each); change table; play mat; bassinette; educational toys; regular toys; educational music; wall decals; fancy French signs that spell out your baby’s name; electronic breast pumps; food storage containers; wristbands that tell you if you have any alcohol in your milk; alarms that sound after you’ve breastfed for an appropriate amount of time; regular clothes; shoes; and organic food pouches that cost five dollars a pop for vegetable mush you’d be able to make yourself for a lot less – if only you weren’t out working so hard to pay for all this other crap you’re not really sure you need but feel you’d better get so you don’t feel completely inferior to all the other mothers you’re surrounded by who have it all.
Now that I’m pregnant again, I refuse to fall into this trap for a second time. I’m going old-school and doing the whole hand-me-down thing for as long as I can. Will the second child grow up to hate me because she never had anything new growing up? Probably. Will I care? Not in the slightest. You know why? I’m going to be providing warmth, love, safety, food and a roof over her head, which in this day and age is like winning the lottery and anything above it is surplus. Now, I just need to keep reminding myself of that.
Could someone please tell us how to actually afford a baby?
As far as we know, babies’ needs (food, shelter, love) haven’t really changed over the generations so how the hell has the cost of raising a baby increased so much over the past decade or two? ‘Babies’ needs have not changed, that much is true,’ says finance expert Justine Davies, author of How to Afford a Baby, ‘but our lifestyles certainly have! Parents have always wanted the best for their baby but with our double-income households we’re enjoying a greater wealth than any other generation, so naturally we want to lavish our kids with everything we can afford to buy.’ According to a detailed report published recently by AMP.NATSEM (‘Honey, I calculated the kids . . .’), babies cost parents an average of $7500 in their first year alone. ‘And that doesn’t include the cost of losing an income or the usual nursery blowout while you’re setting up,’ adds Davies. ‘In fact, loss of income is where the real financial pain for parents lies – when they have their first baby the majority of couples change from double income no kids (DINKS) to single income, with a bit of government assistance, plus an extra mouth to feed. It’s a massive fundamental shift – probably the biggest change in household structure you will ever have – and no matter how much planning you do, most couples will still not be quite ready for it.’ So how do you start tightening your belt? Davies has some answers:
1. Have a written budget. A lot of mums (myself included) indulge in emotional spending when it comes to our babies. Establishing a written budget with set dollar limits will help prevent impulse spending.
2. Equate dollars spent to hours worked. Before you splash the cash, think about what else it could buy you – like another week off work to spend with your baby. That’s a good incentive not to spend!
3. Beg and borrow. There are so many things – a bassinette, a baby bath, a change table – that are expensive but will have very limited use. You may find plenty of friends and family members who can lend you these items, so save your money for things you will keep for years.
4. Buy second hand. A quick glance on eBay will show you that you can buy just about any item you need second hand – and it can be a huge cost saving! Just check the safety requirements of items and ensure that they comply before buying.
5. Check your government benefits. Make sure you’re receiving any family assistance you are entitled to. It’s a big help.
6. Pay down personal debt. Try not to start your maternity leave with any credit card debt – it costs too much.
7. Go easy on the clothing. It’s really tempting to stock the wardrobe with lots and lots of cute baby clothes – but you’ll be amazed how fast your bundle of joy grows!
8. And the toys! Seriously, most kids have waaaay too many toys. Just buy a few nice ones and join a toy library for variety.
9. Find free activities. Your local library, playgrounds, art galleries, botanic gardens . . . there are heaps of free (and fun) things to do with your bub.
10. Ignore the Joneses. Have you heard the expression ‘Keeping up with the Joneses’? Don’t do it – it’s absolutely not worth it. The only person you have to impress is your own immediate family – and babies are pretty easily impressed.
I employ a pink ban
My baby shower invitations go out at the 20-week mark, not long after I find out I’m having a girl. Like most good invitations, the cards state location, time and date, but at the very bottom, I add an extra line, something I’ve been mulling over for quite some time. I write that while I appreciate the time, money and effort my loved ones have been going to throughout my pregnancy, I will in fact be banning the colour pink from my new baby daughter’s nursery and wardrobe. That’s right – I have issued a pink ban.
Now, to be clear, I’m not a complete psycho (arguable, I know). It’s not like I have a pathological hatred of the colour; it doesn’t burn my retinas or fill me with evil thoughts. Nope, it’s just that I’ve seen what happens to people’s consumerist mentality when you announce you are a
vessel for another human being who just happens to have a vagina. I see it first-hand all the time, and let me tell you, it ain’t so pretty.
As you can imagine, my invitations go down like a lead balloon. Phone calls, emails and texts begin arriving from all over the globe full of concern I’ve finally lost my mind. ‘WHAT DO YOU MEAN YOU’RE BANNING PINK?!!!’ asks one friend notorious for her love of capitals and overuse of exclamation marks. ‘But . . . but she’s a girl,’ states another, in case I’d somehow missed the magic moment the sonographer informed me my daughter’s vulva looked just like a mini hamburger bun. ‘Oh fuck off, Dilvin,’ spits my always eloquent mum, and taking the prize as the most dramatic of reactions is my friend Sara, with ‘That’s just cruel! If you do this to her, she will grow up unhappy and will never ever love you.’ The verdict is in and it’s unanimous: I am an unfit mother who is needlessly and cruelly subjecting my unborn child to a life not worth living.
I take no notice initially of what I believe to be some seriously overblown reactions and continue doing up our dark wood nursery with cherry red accents, but in the lead-up to the baby shower I begin receiving phone calls from friends and family members sounding puffed, put out and fed up. ‘I’ve been walking around the shops for hours, Dilvin, and there’s nothing but pink for girls and blue for boys and you’re just being selfish – SELFISH!’ screams one friend. And others? Well, they’re not quite so polite and just take to threatening me instead. ‘I’m sorry but this is just too difficult . . . If you don’t lift this ridiculous ban, I’m not getting her anything at all!’ exclaims another. At first I try to smile it off, but I can’t deny I feel frustrated by their reactions. ‘But don’t you think that’s part of the problem?’ I ask patiently, trying to be understanding of their misery. ‘Aren’t you at all concerned that we’ve all been led to be brainwashed that girls must wear pink and boys must wear blue and there can be no variation on this if you want to fit into mainstream society?’ There’s a long pause at the other end, then a heavy sigh. ‘I’m hanging up,’ she says firmly, and she does. Wow, I really can’t wait for my baby shower now!
One week later, the day of the shower arrives and it is glorious. My girlfriend Nicole has put together a beautiful event and I’m in the mood for fun. The same can’t be said about some of my guests who walk in as though they’re partaking in a funeral procession. ‘Here, take it,’ utters my cousin as she flings me a gift-wrapped box as if it contains little more than a dead cockroach or two. Another girlfriend gingerly steps towards me. ‘I have to warn you there’s a little bit of pink in one of the outfits I got the baby but it should be okay because it’s only the pockets and not the whole thing,’ she says softly. The poor woman actually seems frightened of me, which is rather disconcerting. Still, a gorgeous day is had, with plenty of food, non-alcoholic wine and the odd silly game or two. And as for the gifts, my friends and family have been most generous. Although they will most likely hold it against me until the End of Days, they’ve come through and purchased my daughter items featuring every colour of the rainbow, not a pink dress in sight. So my pink ban has been a raging success, right?
Not quite.
Fast-forward four years, and my entire life is what you would happily call a catastrophe of cerise. Much to the endless amusement of everyone around me, that sneaky rose hue I once so confidently banished from my life has somehow bled into every crevice of my world. If I empty my handbag, it’s an avalanche of pink erasers and fluffy glitter pens. When I slump over my desk on a Monday morning, it’s likely I’ll spill my coffee over one of many pink fairy princess masterpieces Cella has drawn for me and littered around my work station. And our house? Yep, the pink apocalypse has hit there, too, showering every corner of the space with piles and piles of this insidious colour. And why this sudden turnaround, you might ask? Because pink fever, otherwise known as the crack cocaine of female infancy, has taken a firm hold of my daughter, and I’m powerless to stop it. You can lead a horse to water, it seems, but you certainly can’t make it drink.
That doesn’t mean I don’t try, of course. I still regularly (and some might say hopefully) buy Cella cornflower-blue dresses and pintuck blouses in grey and yellow but it’s often more trouble than it’s worth because I virtually have to crash-tackle the little darling to get her to wear them. And when she does, well, she just spends her day looking borderline suicidal as though she’s just watched her mother throw the family cat down the incinerator. ‘But now I’m not pretty anymore,’ she wails each and every time, her bottom lip quivering with emotion. ‘I’m pretty in pink!’ And I stare at her like she’s grown an extra head, wondering where the hell this creature came from and how on Earth could she be related to me.
Needless to say, I’ve lost the pink battle in our home because it seems my will is no match for my daughter’s. And I’m exhausted. I’m tired of the endless marketing campaigns in the stores and in popular media; I’m tired of visiting friends’ homes only to find the kind of bedroom that would turn Barbie herself green with envy and then having to explain to Cella why this isn’t okay; and I’m really freakin’ over having to get my child in a headlock just to get her to wear something non-pink and non-polyester. Given my pink ban, I’m still unsure of how I ended up in this situation. What I do know is: this pink thing with Cella was never a taught behaviour. I’ve never allowed her to watch commercial television or listen to radio so she hasn’t come across any advertising, and she’s not at school yet, so far too young to be influenced by peers. But somehow between the age of two and three, we’ve gone from completely blank slate to Everything Must Be Pink. So I want to know, if pink is for girls and blue is for boys as we’ve been told, where and when did these crazy ideas come from?
To give you an idea of the bigger picture, we’ll have to go back in time to the World War One years. Obviously, I don’t have a DeLorean (Back to the Future reference for those of you born post-1980) to take you there, so you will need to use your imagination. Anyway, back then, pink was considered to be more suitable for boys as it was deemed the stronger, more ‘decided’ colour, while blue was classified as dainty and perfect for girls. Having said that, the two colours weren’t particularly promoted as gender signifiers, and boys and girls wore both happily. In reality, the gender apartheid we’re now seeing in department stores the world over didn’t really kick off until the mid-80s when prenatal gender testing took off and marketers hit pay dirt as they suddenly found themselves with one helluva gimmick to play with. Having a girl? Deck out her room with feminine pink! Having a boy? Teach him to be a man early with soothing shades of blue. Why the colour switch is still anyone’s guess, but the marketing worked and by the time we were all getting around in neon bubble skirts and listing to Bros on our Walkmans, the pink/blue divide had well and truly exploded. Suddenly mums who’d grown up deprived of the colour themselves began rejecting unisex clothing in droves and started stocking up on frilly, ‘girly’ numbers for their little princesses.
Okay, all well and good, but do these gender norms reflect some inherent biological difference between the sexes, or are they culturally constructed? Various studies have put kids aged nought to two under the pump and discovered there is no colour preference in this age group, with both sexes preferring pinker tones and rounder shapes. But from the age of two, that’s when things begin to get interesting, because that’s when girls start to seek out pink objects instinctively while boys avoid it like the plague. By two and a half, regardless of how you’ve raised them, the difference between the two sexes is so significant, it leaves academics with no choice but to conclude our colour preferences arise from social conditioning rather than any inborn factors. ‘Being gender normal is important to us, and if marketers and retailers can convince you that to be perceived as normal you need to buy certain products such as cosmetics, pink or blue clothing, that makes sense from a mass marketing perspective,’ says one leading researcher. Basically, as soon as toddlers can understand whether they are a boy or a girl,
they begin to look for ways to conform to the appropriate stereotype, whether or not their parents rage against it.
But it’s not just the colour pink that rattles me, it’s the toys as well. One look in Cella’s room and it’s all dolls, tea sets and faux ‘beauty parlour’ products. That’s not to say she doesn’t have cars, doctor’s kits and train tracks – she does – but the popular items dragged out of the toy box on a daily basis all appear to revolve around the traditional female ‘role’ of looking good and looking after hearth and home. And that’s with Cella having a full-time working mum who leaves the cooking to Dad as a role model. I can appreciate Cella and I might differ on how we view her toys. For example, I’m fairly certain she doesn’t walk over to her play kitchen, pick up a saucepan and think, ‘My purpose in life is to be a domestic slave for my husband so I should probably get used to this symbol of patriarchal oppression.’ It’s more like, ‘Cool! I can cook Mummy some plastic prawns for dinner, yum yum!’ I know I’m the one embedding every toy with meaning, but I can’t help but feel the identities of today’s children are being caged by their playtime choices. I mean, what the hell happens to them if they deviate from what is considered ‘socially normal’?
Interestingly, although we’re brainwashed to subscribe to a particular colour by the time we’re toddlers these days, this doesn’t seem to be the case when it comes to the toys we choose to play with. Researchers reckon they can identify a gender divide with the preference of the toys we enjoy straight from babyhood. To back up this claim, one study they did involved an experiment on 90 infants aged nine to 36 months. The babies were allowed to choose from seven toys – some stereotypically male (a car, ball, blue bear) and others that could be classed as female (pink bear, doll, cooking set). The infants were placed a metre away and could pick whatever they liked. The girls in the nine- to 14-month age group spent significantly longer playing with the doll than the boys, and the boys spent longer with the car and ball. Among the two- to three-year-olds, the girls spent 50 per cent of the time playing with the doll (only briefly touched by two boys), while the boys spent 90 per cent of their time playing with the car, which the girls barely touched. The researchers admit children of this age are already subject to a great deal of socialisation but say their findings are consistent with the idea of an intrinsic bias in children to show interest in a particular type of toy.