On how the rich stay rich, and the poor stay poor in NZ

So I've been thinking about this post for a while now, and I KNOW no matter when and how I write it I'm going to miss things out and get things wrong.  But I need to write it, so I'd best get on with it.

There are many every day things that simply help our wealthy prosper which are simply out of reach for those on lower incomes.  They are so obvious that a lot of people seem to be oblivious to their existence, or at how massive their impact can be long term.  So I thought I'd write about just the few I think about often.

1) Savings Interest Rates
While I fully understand the whole 'more you save the more you earn' thing (as can invest more/return more), I also KNOW that those who are poor cannot usually afford to save - everything they make is eaten up in costs of living. 

Lets look at the following examples:
The Co-operative Bank is currently offering 3.6% PA for short-term term deposits (4 months) of $5000 or more.  So if I had a spare $5,000 to put somewhere for four months, I would make $60 for doing nothing at all.  And lets say I have a spare $10,000 to put somewhere for five years.  Currently, ASB is offering 4% PA for this - in this case I'd make $133 every four months again, from doing absolutely nothing at all.  And if I put $100,000 away I'd make $1,333 in that same time period.  So I get paid about $83 a week for doing sod all.

So the bank will pay you for them to just hold onto your money - more if you have more money.  And this is just looking at small, safe investing - not even thinking about stock exchange or high risk investment.  So people with enough money to spare get given free money from the bank, while those with just enough get nothing (and those in overdraft pay fees on what they owe).

2) Kiwisaver
Poor people just can't afford it.*  That's just the truth.  Sure, it's a great plan and can get you free money if you use it in the best possible way, but that's not an option for a big chunk of us.  For many families even the minimum of 3% is enough of a chunk of money to make a difference in daily life.  Let's say I work 40 hours per week for minimum wage.  Kiwisaver takes up almost $18 of my after-tax income - so I get $479.35.  The average rent for a three bedroom house in Auckland is $482 - which exceeds my wages.  So even if my partner works part time (cos looking after children for instance) and earns about $250 after tax (minimum wage, 20 hours) we'd only JUST be able to afford to make ends meet week to week.  And that extra $18 I earn (plus the $8 my partner would earn) would actually make a big difference in what we could feed our family (or whether we could afford to have internet/a running vehicle/insurances or not).

A few years ago my MIL asked me if I was getting my 'free' annual government contribution of $1000 odd dollars.  I told her I didn't make the payment thresh-hold.  She asked me why I didn't top up to that thresh-hold.  I told her it was because we couldn't afford to do that and still pay rent/eat food.  She just didn't get it.  Again, there is free money for those who can afford it - but not for those who can't.

Yep, it's a great plan and we used my contribution to help buy our house, but Kiwisaver is just not viable for everyone.  So the governments assumption that everyone can 'afford' to have Kiwisaver is just bizarre.

3) Bulk Buying
Many years ago now I worked in an inbound/outbound call centre which did work for a large range of clients.  One of these was Mana**, which at the time worked to help Maori find employment and generally do better/feel better in life.  At that time they had a series of ads running which showed how people had bettered themselves through using the program.  In one, a Mum of a large family talks about how she could only afford to buy toilet paper one roll at a time.  I was not usually on the inbound phones (I worked outbound, then was a teamleader then supervisor) but did small stints on our general inbound team when necessary.  On one such occasion I had the pleasure of being abused by a woman who disbelieved what was purported by this ad for Mana as 'Everyone knows it's cheaper to buy toilet paper in bulk.  It can't be true, it makes no sense'.

It is true that it (usually) is cheaper to bulk buy.  What this woman couldn't understand/believe is that someone could only have the less than $1 to spend on toilet paper per week rather than the $3 that would allow them to purchase many more rolls of toilet paper in a multipack.  For me this is entirely believable.  For those who live paycheck to paycheck, literally every cent counts.  What was implicit in what the woman in the Mana commercial was saying was that if she spent any more on toilet paper, she couldn't have afforded to buy certain food items, or pay rent, or buy petrol.  While I can see how this could be unbelievable to those who've never encountered this type of quandry, it doesn't make it any less real.

In recent times, with all the talk about our hundreds of thousands of kids living below the poverty line I've heard the same line of thought around Weetbix.  But as shown here, you can't purchase single serves at as low a cost as you get when you guy these products in bulk.  And for many, bulk buying items is just beyond the ability of the weekly budget.***

4) Vehicle Ownership
Cars not only cost a bunch to purchase (for those in lower income brackets even the low thousands is pretty unreachable), but cost a lot to maintain.  We are a single income family who earn a decent amount, but I still don't see multi-car ownership as a financially viable option for us.****  I often encounter shock horror at this fact: 'You mean, you are home with two kids and have no car - how do you get anywhere/do anything/stay sane?'  Um, we get by.  We use public transport.  We use our legs.  We appreciate what we have.  And we do have a car.

But having a vehicle gives you a lot of flexibility.  You don't have to base your employment on proximity to transport routes.  Or your shifts around when you can get to work.  You can shop around for the best bargains.  You can send your kids to the most suitable Playcentre/school/kindy rather than the closest one.  Same with extra curricula activities.  You save a lot of time, which you can then spend doing whatever you like (including, working to earn more money).  Having flexibility means you have more options - which can mean better earning (or saving) ability.
 
5) Timely Payment 'Incentives'
We save around $18 a month on our power bill just by paying it as soon as we can.  We can afford to do this because we earn a decent amount of money, and can put the money aside for our bills to do so.  So we save $216 a year just because we can afford to pay one bill on time.  Or around $4.20 a week - enough to bulk buy toilet paper every week if we wanted and have a little extra to spend on something else.
 
6) Internet
With more and more services switching to online only, this increasingly impacts on those Kiwi's who can't afford to have internet at home.   Yes, there are increasingly public places that allow free internet access (public libraries), but I imagine many people are wary of accessing many services via a public access computer - for instance banking facilities or personal accounts (email, social media) - particularly people who don't have a lot of online experience - which will be people who can't afford to have internet at home. 

There are many things I enjoy online at home which enable me to better manage our finances: online banking, mobile account management, access to the latest news and weather (affects whether I wash clothes or not, which affects how much I spend on laundry powder - and many other random things), social media (which allows me to access help, support and trade via friends, family and the broader community), shopping and price comparison websites.  I also do surveys online for vouchers I can spend online - I earned around $350 last year doing this - which is about $6.70 per week.  It really took the pressure off us at Christmas as I used it predominantly for gift buying - but for a family in a trickier situation than us it could mean the difference between being able to afford new shoes and jackets for their kids when they need them - or not. 

7) Insurance
Having grown up quite poor, I still struggle with how much we spend on insurance.  For me, it feels like throwing money up into the wind - most of it floats off into the ether.  And it's not a small amount.  We spend as much per week on various insurances (including house, home and contents, vehicle, life [for both Murray and I] and health [for all of us]) as we do on a months unlimited broadband.  That is an entire food budget (or double a food budget) for some families.

But it's useful.

Life insurance mean that if either of us randomly die the existing one of us can pay off the mortgage, and have a little left to pay for the funeral.  Whilst I don't expect this to happen, the thing with accidental death is that you don't.  It's worth the peace of mind for us.

Health insurance is probably even more important - instead of having to wait around on public lists for random things we can go private for consults and surgeries.  This means there's less impact on our health and wellbeing (and on our work/ability to work).  Both Murray and I have both used specialist medical services in the past few years - both for unexpected things.  Totally worth it for us (especially me with all my random bungness).  And while it costs us, long term I expect it to save us much that you can't really put a price on.

But insurance is a luxury.  When you are living on the bones of your butt and can barely afford to make rent payments or put food on the table it's just not plausible to have it.  Which means that when things do go wrong, life can become even tougher: your house is robbed - you have to start from scratch with all your appliances.  You crash into an expensive car - you have to organise part-payments to cover the costs which eats into the food budget.  Not having insurance can be very expensive.

8) GST
GST impacts more heavily on those who earn less as those on smaller incomes usually have to spend it all on goods and services to get by.  Let's say someone earns minimum wage working 40 hours per week and doesn't have Kiwisaver - that's $497.05 cash in hand per week.  Of that, lets say they spend $480 on their bills, gas and food (being conservative) - that's $72, or 14.48% of their wage.  Someone else earns $60,000 PA (and have Kiwisaver and a student loan) - that's about $796 per week cash in hand.  Because they earn more, lets say they spend more than the first person - but try and put aside about 20% of their income.  That means they are spending $95.52 in GST per week.   So while they're paying a larger amount than our first person, that's just 12% of their income.  This is why increasing GST has a greater impact on those on lower incomes.

9) Buying things out-right
When you have money, or savings - you can do this magical thing where you go to a shop, and purchase a large item, like a fridge or couch without using finance.  Which saves you at least $80+ per application (and if you have a vehicle, or a friend with a vehicle, you may not have to pay for delivery either).

10) Putting more than the minimum on the mortgage
Many NZers in lower income brackets won't ever be able to get a mortgage.  But for those who do, their mortgage will probably end up costing them more in interest, than those who earn more.  Here's an example from stuff.co.nz:

'A young couple buying a $400,000 home over 30 years with a starting deposit of $50,000, and assuming a long-term interest rate of 8 per cent, will end up paying interest of over $574,000, more than the price they paid for the home.' ... If they opted to pay just $10 a week more than the minimum repayments, they'd cut their total repayments to the bank from $809,950 to $783,500. ' 

That's a saving of $26,450.  I put the same information into the mortgage calculator in Sorted.  If you can put an extra $20 on the mortgage per week you save just over $80,000.  If you can spring to $100, you can save around $255,000 in interest over the lifetime of your mortgage.  That's a whole buttload of money. 

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Just to reiterate, these are just a few examples of things I notice in daily life.  There are many, many more things that contribute to this broadening gap between rich and poor in NZ.  The purpose of this post is to make some of these things visible to those who have never had to think about these things.  I found this a very handy tool to help work out the figures I've used, but I'm no expert at accounting, economics or math - so these may not be perfect.

I just want people to think, and realise, and be grateful for what they've got.  And not assume that all wealth is garnered through hard work, and all poverty garnered through lack of it.  There are some very practical things which help keep those with little at the bottom of the economic food chain, and those with more at the top.


* And yes, there are poor working folk in New Zealand.  Many of them.

** I hope I don't get sued for this, confidentiality statements I signed back then and all, but I don't think either company exists any more, plus not saying anything negative about anyone anyway.  Fingers crossed!

*** And yes, these people could shop monthly - but they can't.  Cos they'd need a large sum of money at the outset for the first month.  Which never happens.  As they never have any money.  And if they try and save that money they will have no food for the first month.  And if you don't eat for a month, you die.

**** I also personally feel it is unnecessary for us to own a second car.  We live a mere 20 minute walk from a mall and supermarket.  We are close to major bus and train routes.  We are healthy and able.  It is good to teach the kids to get out and about and that they need to work for what they have.  And it's much better for the environment.  I personally feel the benefits we get from not having a second car far outweighs the benefits of having one.

On the lady body hair/feminism/parenting conundrum.

So a while ago I thought to myself: why do I shave?  I don't really care what people think about how I look, so why do I do it?

And then I thought some more and realised I've never actually seen my adult body not shaved.  Well, not for any period of time in which I could grow all that hair back.  And this may seem crazy but the truth is I started shaving my legs sneakily from when I was about 12 years old.  And the other standard lady shaving areas (pits and pubes) when I wasn't a heck of a lot older.  And the longest I've not shaved anything for is about two weeks.  And yes, even when I was pregnant, and it was crazy difficult I still shaved.

To those who know me, this will seem insane.  Because yes - I don't really give a fuck about my appearance.  I couldn't give less than a fuck what strangers think of me, and I keep my friends awesome* so they don't judge me on shit like that.  Yet still, I've never not shaved.  I guess I've just been doing it for so long it's become so routine and normal I just do it.

So I decided to try just not doing it.

It's not like I shaved daily or anything.  I just shaved when things started getting annoying for me.  Or on those few occasions where I felt like being a girly girl (I always had someone else do my hair and makeup though cos I'm not proper girl enough to understand that shit).  So this wasn't a time-saving exercise.  I just wanted to see my body au naturale.  Because I actually never have.  And that seems kinda sad.  Because even me - a dress-how-I-like-feminist has never ever not shaved.  Because I was so acclimatised to something so unnatural that I've never considered not doing it until I had two kids and was 34.

And I was also thinking of what I'd tell my kids when they asked me why I shaved.  Because I know if Etta ever saw me do it I'd have to tell her.  And frankly, I was stumped - there was no logical reason.  In order to be able to look my daughters in the eye when I tell them to be happy in their own bodies I needed to understand why I do the things I do to my own.  Because I am a shitty liar.  And I want to support my kids as best I can in being comfortable in their own skin - because the world we live in sure does not.

So I did it.  Kinda.  I don't know how long I went without shaving.  I didn't track it or nothing.  I simply stopped doing it.  But I did cave.  The first area to go was oddly the one no-one ever sees - my lady garden.  This had nothing to do with aesthetics and all to do with sensation (WARNING - TMI): the area just felt moister.  The lady stuff was getting caught in the extra garden and it made me feel icky.  I know the lady garden is totally natural and not bad or anything, and the ick is just a self sanitising system (our bodies are amazing!) but after so long never feeling this sensation it felt just too weird.  So I trimmed.  Just enough that I didn't feel that sensation any more.  The next thing to go was my legs.  I managed to not shave for several months though.  I tried to live with it for as long as I could to get used to my natural state.  The issue here, again, was a sensory one: I didn't like feeling the wind rustling my leg hairs.  Weird, but true.

But what I haven't re-shaved since I stopped is my armpits.  I've never had armpit hair before and I actually quite like it.  Yes, I know it's kinda cool right now, but that isn't why I'm keeping it (and no, I will not be dying it any time soon).  It simply doesn't feel yuck and I never have to deal with the shaving burn that occasionally comes with shaving such sensitive skin.  And it's not like it's a heck of a lot of hair.  I don't grow much body hair and what I do is quite light.  I don't know why I bothered shaving them for so many years!

The outcome of this experiment is that I am changing how I shave to suit myself.  I'll just shave my shins when they start to feel wind-blowy (the rest of my legs felt fine) and I'll trim my lady bits when they bug me.  And more importantly, I can tell my girls exactly why I do that.  Which means they can see they at least have a choice and that their choice should suit what's important to them.
                                                                                                  
                                                                                                                              
                                                                                                                                                                  Hair's my armpit (te he he!  Bad pun)
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So on the flip side of this is the one hair related thing I do fixate on - my eyebrows.  This isn't due to criticism from others - it's purely cos I've never really had them.  My eyebrows are very sparse and blonde and, pretty much since I realised they were on my face, I've had eyebrow envy.  It's my one thing.  Other folk have mascara or lippy as their simple makeup pick-me-up - I carry brow liner.

Until now...

Check out these power brows!  They may not look like much to you (I ain't got nothing on Cara's, nor will I ever) BUT this is the result of the first successful brow tint I've ever had done.

After having trialled a range of beauticians** over the years (including a freeby at Caci clinic because a laser machine literally broke when I was in it) I have never felt happy with the results.  My eyebrows are two different shapes (because my eyes are two different shapes) so they never look even.  But having had my eyebrows threaded regularly at the same place has also kept them fuller (the European style beauticians always take away too much of the little hair I have) and hey presto - I have eyebrows.

I know it seems super hypocritical to write this having just had a bleat about feminism and kids, and comfort in your own skin blah blah blah - it is.  But I feel like I can explain this to my daughters more than I could many other crazy beauty things - I tint my eyebrows because I want to have eyebrows.  That's it.  Why do I want to have eyebrows? Cos I'm a sheeple like everyone else...***

Dammit!  This parenting lark is hard.  It's good though, as it really is helping me investigate how I live my own life and why.  No-one can be perfect, nor the perfect parent.  All we can hope is that we learn and grow with our children and become better people together.  I am trying.



* Luckily, I was also born into awesome - so I win on all counts.

**  I know, I'm blowing your mind right now huh, cos me, Hannah, who is so cheap she cuts her own hair, has actually been to one of these places.  I've just always REALLY WANTED EYEBROWS.  And while I'm great with scissors, I am terrible with a pair of tweezers.  Trust me.  Just awful.  I am just aware of what I can do and what I cannot.  And while I can cut my own hair pretty well (perks of thick, wavy hair) there are many other beauty things (pretty much all of them) I cannot.

*** Evidenced throughout this post by my knowledge of fashion trends and who Cara Delevingne is (even though I mostly know who she is because she hooked up with Michelle Rodriguez, not because she's a model {which doesn't excuse me as why do I know this stuff?  I don't even know these people - this isn't important knowledge unless you go to pub quiz, which I don't anymore}).  Because none of this stuff is big picture important.  At all.  And yet I know it.  Because reading crap is my go to when I am tired and finding something banal to do.  I have to work on this.  Stupid Daily Mail.

On my ever evolving relationship with women and feminism

It is funny looking back on your life and thinking about the person you've been and the person you are becoming.  Especially if, like me, those people are significantly different from each other.  If you'd asked teenage Hannah if she was a feminist she would have probably told you to fuck off.  If you'd asked mid 20's Hannah if she was a feminist she would have probably given you a long rant about how making art in a 'woman's' media doesn't make you a feminist.  But if you ask Hannah now if she's a feminist you will get a straight up 'Yes'.

I think I've always espoused feminist values, but couldn't marry those values with my concept of who 'feminists' were.  And for a big chunk of my life I had difficulty relating to women - I had to reconcile the fact I was a woman before I could even consider my relationship with feminism.

Little Hannah (in the pink) - Calf Club day out in South Head

I grew up (for the most part) a country girl.  In terms of gender typing it meant I got to sit on the fence a bit.  I was expected to do all the usual 'girl' things (have long hair, wear dresses, play with dolls, bake and do jobs around the house), but I also got to do regular 'country' stuff - chop kindling, ride bikes, catch fish, drive farm vehicles and do farm jobs.  It kinda felt like my family subscribed to the 'girls can do anything so long as they do the dishes' kind of thinking.

While this was good to some extent, I also grew up in a predominantly white, affluent farming area where gender typing was standard.  Men who weren't good at farm work were pansies and homos and women who were different from the norm were bitches and sluts.  Feminists were lesbos or dykes.  Throwing like a girl was a bad thing.

For me, growing up as a girl generally seemed like a bad thing.  I didn't fit in well with most other girls.  I was an outspoken, imaginative and bright kid.  I preferred hanging out with boys from an early age as I felt like boys actually did stuff and girls just sat around and talked.  This was reinforced at home where Mum was a passive voice and Dad was anything but.  I saw this as a weakness*, and while I loved my Mum I could not relate to her and did not want to grow up to be her.

I hit puberty early and that further estranged me from my female peers.  I wasn't aware of it at the time, but boys were now interested in me in a different way and some girls perceived me as a threat.  Though I had always been bullied ( I was always a 'nerd'), this was when the girl specific bullying really came into it's own.  I had friends, but never felt a part of anyone's inner circle.  I was lonely, although by no means alone.

I struggled to cope with my new womanly body.  It was a drag.  Suddenly, running was uncomfortable and doing the physical things I used to wasn't the same.  I felt estranged from myself.**

At High School I formed strong bonds with my male peers as, for the most part, I didn't really have to acknowledge my femininity when I was with them.  I could be bright and imaginative and have fun.  I felt more myself with them.  When I look back on teen Hannah though I am sad.  Without meaning to, by attempting to escape her gender she became the antithesis of a feminist.  I can remember a friend telling me how he made his girlfriend clean up after one of his epic parties and just replying 'if she's dumb enough to do it then it's her fucking problem.'  I didn't like or understand other women.  I couldn't empathise with them.  I felt as though I'd escaped the whole equality quandry by just hanging with the boys.  I didn't think it applied to me.

A (15ish) Hannah - one of the boys.

But at the same time I bought into the rape culture that is pervasive in New Zealand.  There were several occasions where I was date raped, on one occasion by a close friend - although at the time I never would have seen it as that.  Every time I was intoxicated.  I was young, I was flirtatious and I was dressed provocatively.  I believed it was my fault.  I felt that if I were stupid enough to put myself in the situation how could it not be?  And despite having said no, several times, every time, I eventually stopped fighting.  Every time.  I felt my giving up was an indication of my consent.

My general attitude toward other women reflected this same culture.  I wolf whistled at women in short skirts on the street.  I belittled other women.  I thought women were generally silly and deserved everything they received as a result.

When I was about twenty I moved into an entirely female flat.  And they were different.  They didn't just sit around not doing anything.  They were kind and warm and open.  And while I had met other girls like this previously***, I had not met them en masse and it was enlightening.  I felt comfortable with myself in a group of other women for (what felt like) the first time.

And at Unitec I found even more like minded ladies (love you guys so much x x).  Whilst studying I also engaged with ideas around feminism academically for the first time.  I was (and am still) grateful for my time with the boys - it meant I took nothing at face value.  Whilst I read a lot about feminism I was still not ready to call myself a feminist.  I felt that much I read did not equate to striving for equality.  Very few texts (at the time) talked about balancing women's liberation with men's liberation.

This was particularly apparent to me having come from a farming background where the male archetype is as ingrained, if not moreso, than that for the ladies.  And having been one of the 'boys' for much of my teenagehood I really felt like there was this whole issue of 'man' that was being ignored.  Like 'man' was this blank slate for projection of all of 'women's' issues, without acknowledging their personhood or needs.  I felt feminism, and (some) feminists I knew at the time took a very one sided approach, and I was horrified to be lumped in with them.

At the same time I felt the feminism I saw around me neglected to acknowledge women's sexuality, or desire to be sexual.  Whilst I completely understood the backlash against being objectified, I couldn't equate that restriction with freedom.  Why couldn't I wear sexy clothes and own my body?  Why couldn't I be intelligent and still enjoy cooking and knitting?  What was wrong with being just a Mum?  I felt as though feminism imposed as many rules on me as the patriarchy.  It was still a regime, just one run by someone else.

The face of an unkempt feminist

Today I am happy to be called a feminist because I take it at its word.  A feminist is supposed to be someone who strives for equal rights.  I am definitely that someone.  I have decided I am ok with people thinking whatever they like about me regardless of this label - that's their problem.

Today there are many subgroups and branches and offshoots of traditional feminism.  There are many new definitions and names for these, so many I don't remember them all.  It's all too confusing.  This is why just being called a feminist is good enough for me.  The main gist of my values is there.  People can pick it apart all they want.  I no longer give a shit.

So do I think women deserve equal pay?  Yes, of course we fucking do!  I would like it if we could compare equal work in equal jobs at equal levels (which is not how this statistic is calculated currently) so we could see exactly wherein the issue the inequality sits****.  But I also think we need more support out there for Dads.  Why aren't there change tables in men's bathrooms too?  Why don't men get support from Maternity Mental Health for the first year too?  When will 'flexitime' be normalised not just for working Mums, but Dad's too?

There has been a lot of work that's gone into giving women choice in terms of staying home or going to work (or both), but not vice versa.  And from a practical perspective this is just stupid.  Cos if I want to go to work, but Murray has less support to stay at home with the kids than I do, it's a no brainer as to who stays at home.  How can we change this dynamic if we're focused on only one side of the picture?

And if we want to break through our rape culture we need to work on breaking down our hard man culture.  Because not only are Kiwi dudes great at sexually (and otherwise) assaulting women, but they are first class at topping themselves.  So it's not really working out so well for anyone.   And whilst us ladies still strive for equal treatment, at least we have our close mates to bitch about it with.  Most of us talk things through, get stuff off our chests and feel ok.  And if we can't do it with our mates, we go and get help.  It's acceptable.  Guys don't seem to feel they can do this.  So what do they do when they're not coping?  They act out.  It's not rocket science.

Anyhow, that's enough ranting for one day.  In summary, today I'm a proud feminist.  It took me a while to get here, but I am comfortable with that path.  I strongly believe in equal rights for all.  Everyone matters.  And everyone should be free to be whoever they are without fear.  So I strive to teach my kids things can be different.  Because they can.  I know they can.

* It took me a long time to understand that not all strength is visible and not all decisions are simple.  I love my Mum to the moon and back and have much respect for her now.

** I have to clarify: I have never felt I was trapped in the wrong body.  I just struggled to feel my athleticism slipping off my bones (how it felt).  I remember that juxtaposition between childhood and adulthood and I didn't like it.  I liked the sameness of childhood - how boys and girls were the same, really.  Just kids.  But I relate strongly to those who are trans or identify as gender queer as I really feel that imposition of gender.  At times it's fine, and others it's uncomfortable to wear.

*** Please don't get me wrong.  I had LOTS of female friends over those growing up years, some whom I was quite close to, still talk to and admire greatly.  I just never felt like I fit into those girl friend groups where there were dynamics, and back chat and gossip and stuff.

**** I suspect it's to do with low paid 'women's industries' like care work, the fact women have to take more time out for childcare which slows career progression and women's higher participation in voluntary work that is doing it.  But I can't know this.  Because we need a few law changes before we can get the statistics to know this for sure.

On renovating (and otherwise pulling the house to bits)

I haven't blogged for a while.  I haven't really had any brain for it.  The main reason for this is because my house has been driving me nuts.  It's one of the things about being a stay at home Mum - you end up being at home.  A LOT.  Like, most of the time.  And it's not like I dislike being at home - I am, in fact, what could be described as a 'home body'.  But when you are home all the time, the little niggly things about your house are constantly in your face.  So whilst you're running around fighting house-upkeep-fires (aka - surviving your children) you may desperately be wanting to sort out X shelf or cupboard for fear if you have to look at it in it's current state you might start to scream.

And this isn't helped when you feel you don't have enough room to house all the people that live in your home.  Now, we have the standard three bedroom one bathroom home with four people and two cats.  Which should totally meet our requirements.  Especially when you consider that families of five or six would often cram into a little two bedroom bedsits back in the day.  So I get that this is a First World (and middle class) Problem for sure.  But it's still a problem for us.  Some people have larger space-for-sanity requirements than others.  Murray and I are these people.  We have always had an 'extra' room - even when flatting, so we could take time and space to ourselves.

Our home with one child was totally cool.  We had our bedroom, Etta's bedroom and a games room (office).  We planned for this.  This house was our five-year-one-child-plan house.  After being here for five years we would have been reassessing whether or not to have another child and/or move house.  But we got a bonus baby* and Auckland's housing market has gone bananas so now it's more like a ten-year-two-child-house.

So because we are staying here longer than anticipated and need this home to work better for our particular situation I came up with a solution.  We had a ridiculously large bathroom.  Our house was built for a disabled person and the bathroom was (I'm guessing) open plan to accommodate a wheelchair.  The only reason we'd have a bathroom that size now were if we put a friggin Jacuzzi in it or something**.  And because our bedroom is next to the bathroom, I figured we could use the extra bathroom space to simply create an annex to our bedroom via our wardrobe.

I stupidly forgot to take a 'before' picture, so just imagine that entire space behind the divider is also bathroom, cos it was...

And Abby could live in there.

When we got pregnant we did*** joke about Abby being like Harry Potter and having to live in a cupboard under the stairs.  And thanks to creative thinking, and some fabulous help we've managed to turn that joke into a reality. (Really that's one of the best perks of adulthood, alongside eating as much candy as you want.  Which I am doing while I write this post.)  Like most people we didn't have an extra many thousands of dollars stashed somewhere.  What we did have though was a mortgage to be renegotiated, so we just got a little top up to cover the renovation.

Being someone who has never been the grown up responsible for a renovation before the whole idea of this was a bit daunting.  Sure, I've done some stuff and watched some things at our bach working bees.  But other people were in charge.  I had no idea about what the actual big picture was, I just zone out, do the task appointed and hope for the best.  I never actually planned anything.  And you hear stories all the time of X person being screwed over by Y builder and the job never getting complete.  Or being charged way more than quoted.  Or being quoted way more than the work is worth.  Or having their house literally fall down around them.

Fuck that.

So I called in some help from a friend who (handily) co-ordinates this sort of thing for a job.  He didn't initially want to do the job for us as friends shouldn't work for friends (totally agree), and putting the job through his workplace was by no means the cheapest way of doing it.  But in the end he agreed to help out, and I am so incredibly thankful that he did.

Renovating a room like a bathroom is no simple task.  There is no way anyone who hasn't done it before, or who works in or with people in the industry could know what is involved and the order in which things need to be done.  Coordinating the timing of when builders, plumbers, sparkies, flooring dudes and painter/plasterers were needed in terms of where we were at in the build was mammoth.  AND I would have had to find all those tradesfolk myself and felt comfortable with my choices.  I am so thankful to have had someone I trust to be able to do that for us.

 The new wall ^

The amount of extra room we had in our bathroom >

Especially because I have anxiety.  From previous experience, I know having people in and out of the house is quite triggering for me - to the point where I can basically hide from them and forgo usual life needs (food, toileting, general self care).  Because I trusted my friend I trusted the guys working on our place.  And because of this my anxiety was quite manageable.  And I really quite loved the builders.  They were wonderful guys.  So much so that I actually felt sad when everything was over and I knew I wouldn't be seeing them again.

And it did take a while for all the little finicky bits to be done but now we have a normal sized bathroom and an extra Harry Potter room for Abby!  It feels kind of amazing actually.  But with reorganising this space has come the need to have a thorough sort out of our entire house.  So now I'm (slowly) doing an epic re-evaluation of all the things in our home: whether we need them or not and where they should live.  As someone said to me the other day, it's kinda like house tetris.  You move one thing thinking of where the next thing will fit, and the board is constantly moving.****

New bathroom!

 

 

Welcome to our Narnia ^ (mixing up our YA fictions here)

And Abby in her new closet home > 

And while this process is still in flux, much has been done.  I can walk into our games room now and there is actually open space against one wall (to be taken up by epic bookshelf, to get our books out of storage and the dining room - cos tetris).  I actually have ONE place for all the leads in our house, and despite having lost (temporarily) a wardrobe, due to a thorough sort out, we do actually have space available in our remaining wardrobes.  I have given away a lot of stuff and let go of the guilt of having to keep stuff.  It's been very cathartic.

And very good for my mental health.  I am definitely one of those people who is affected by their environment.  And while I have been told 'it (the cleaning) will never end, there will always be something making you crazy' and while this is to some extent true, I am still better for having much of it done.  Because the less stuff there is, the easier maintaining the stuff is.  The less crazy in my environment, the less crazy in my brain.  Sure, there will always be something to do.  But now the amount of somethings is less everything feels more manageable and I feel much more serene.

And with that serenity comes a bit more space for my brain.  So hopefully this means more posts.  I have had a lot going on, so there is so much I would like to write about.  I am hopeful you will hear from me again soon.

* Unplanned, but so friggin' lucky to have a healthy pregnancy that made it to term and turned into the little person that is our Abby.

** And while that'd be awesome, it wouldn't solve our space dilemma and our power bill would go through the roof which is no good for tight arse, frugal, save-on-electricity-as-much-as-we-can me.

*** Joke actually brought to you by Aunty Anne

**** And it's super addictive...  So hard to stop once you're in the zone!

On Why Social Anxiety Sucks

The true face of anxious/exhausted Mum Hannah

So Maternity Mental Health has been awesome and super supportive and has offered me a bunch of useful stuff going forward since the anxious Mums group finished up.  So I have regular contact with my case manager and also regular one on one counseling with the woman who ran the anxiety group AND an upcoming couples workshop.  And funnily, around the time I realised respite care was a thing and had a read online and then didn't know how to apply for/get it my case manager offered it to me.

And I was like 'YAY!' cos the main issue I have these days is just being super tired because Abby has still been only sleeping in 45 minute blocks during the day, and we haven't been able to stretch her wake-times much because of it which makes for a pretty full on day when you also have a full on toddler.  And because our full on toddler is also a very routine kid, school holidays have really thrown her and she has been acting out something chronic*.  So on a weekday when it's just me I am lucky to get 20 minutes where both kids are asleep to take a breath and be by myself, and I spend most of the rest of the day cleaning, and trying to avoid getting hit, or having things smashed.

And Abby is still co-sleeping and waking two to three hourly at night...

So consequently I'm shattered.  So my immediate thoughts on respite were:
'YAY!' and 'YAAAAAAAAAAAAY!'
And because I am so tired my regular smart brain hadn't even considered anything other than that I would finally get some sleep and could maybe feel a little human again for a bit.

What I was hoping for from respite was maybe a couple of hours a few days where they look after your kids so you can sleep.  But what respite actually is, is a full day (7 - 8 hours) three days in a row where someone comes to help mind your kids.  So I said.  Yes please!  Without really thinking through the actuality of what that meant for me as someone with social anxiety.

The first thing that made it not work is that the respite carer was ill the day she was supposed to start so she didn't come.  And while this is 100% not her fault it is still one of the least helpful things to happen to someone with anxiety.  Cos I'd fully prepped myself for having someone I didn't know come to my house.  I'd had a shower, I'd got the dishes done, put away and hung the washing out.  The house was in a reasonable state and the kids were fed and not too feral.  And this is by 9am (high five to me!) And then my careworker called to say that the respite carer wasn't coming.  Again, no-one's fault but really threw me.

Because people with anxiety often don't cope very well with sudden changes.  And I am one of those people, it made me unsure of what was happening for the rest of the week.  And unsure makes me feel insecure and unsafe.  Seriously, I have lists and blackboards and Excel spreadsheets and all kinds of ephemera to manage my day-to-day life so I don't totally freak out.  So when a big thing changes it impacts heavily on me.

But I didn't want to give up so I agreed to have someone come and start the following day for a different three day block of time.

And she did come.  And she was honestly great with the kids.  But because I didn't know the 'rules' of how respite is supposed to work, and when I was supposed to rest, and how much one on one with both or each kids she was supposed to have or any parameters or guidelines or anything I couldn't relax.  I did manage to have about an hour of rest/lie down time while Etta was napping, but for the rest of the time she was there I just kind of hovered, too scared to do much else or do housework even.  And I wore pants all day because I was too anxious to wear my usual comfy pyjamas for fear of doing so in front of someone I didn't know.

And several random things made things worse:
1) -The respite lady didn't know about our dicky toilet flush, cos I didn't tell her, cos I forgot, cos I was anxious and jammed the buttons and ultimately broke the flush on our toilet so then our toilet wouldn't flush.  And I wasn't mad at her just anxious because I then had a stranger in my home that didn't have a flushing toilet.  (I think this would make normal people a bit anxious to be honest).  And our toilet is still broken.

2) Our older cat has been super unhappy with the house renovations and started spraying in the house in random places so I keep finding random spots of cat wee and having to clean them and parts of our house smell which is hideously embarrassing and gross.

3) Because Etta is out of routine and generally having trouble going to bed cos of daylight savings she is tired.  And having a new person there at naptime made things worse.  And because of that she got super crazy at nap time and it took almost an hour to get her to go down for a nap.  And that was stressful (nap time is not usually that dramatic).

4) Because Etta is crazy and I have anxiety any small comment the respite lady made I took to heart and felt like a terrible parent and couldn't articulate well why we did and didn't do certain things.  And I felt bad that Etta still wasn't toilet trained.  And I felt stupid.  And this respite lady was honestly very lovely and not trying to make me feel terrible AT ALL I felt more anxious cos it really drove home how nuts I am.

And I didn't even realise how stressed I'd been until she left for the day and I melted into a puddle of exhausted tears and called my Mum.  Cause I'd been working so hard to put on a front of being ok with this amazing help I've been given that I almost had fooled myself into thinking it was all ok.  But it wasn't.  And it was no-one's fault.  And it was sooo frustrating because I'd pinned a lot of hopes on this being something that would help get me through, and my own inadequacies as a human being failed me.  Again.  Sigh.

And then I had to do one of the most stressful things ever.  I had to talk to my care worker and explain that I couldn't have the respite lady back the next day.  But before that, I had to tell my husband, who I think will also have pinned some of his own hopes and dreams on this respite stuff I couldn't have her back.  And I felt awful and guilty and ungrateful and generally like a bad person.

But I did it.  And Murray was absolutely fine and understanding and fantastic.  And I was too scared to call my care worker (phone calls are not my friend) so I text her work number.  And when I heard back from her (next day, because by the time I procrastinated and thought about what to say and cried and freaked out she will have turned off her work phone cos it was 7.30pm) she was also great and understanding and ok.  And I kinda knew that this would be the case, but because I'm in hyped anxious state from the respite lady being here my sane brain doesn't work very good.

But there have been some fantastic outcomes from this failed respite situation.

The first one being that on Tuesday I was a bit pissed about the changes to the plans so I was like 'You know what?  I'm gonna make my own respite.  Fuck you world'.  And for the first Tuesday that my firstborn was away at her Nana and Poppa's I genuinely took a day of rest.  I watched back to back TV shows and had a lie down and played with Abby and apart from making dinner, and the epic pre-9am-dash-to-make-house-ok-before-respite-came I did naught.  And the sky did not fall on my head.  And everything was ok.

The second one being that this morning Mum was here (yay Mum!) and Etta told me to 'Go away Mummy' so I did.  I went away and I had a bath (Abby was asleep).  And while I was in the bath, relaxing and shaving my legs for the first time in forever I thought about stuff.  The first thought was if I could rest this Tuesday while Etta was at Nana's, there's no reason why I can't rest every Tuesday.  So I will try and do that in future.  And while I don't get more sleep (cos 45 minute naps) I do get time to myself to just chill, which is still very helpful.**

And then I thought maybe I can do this more often when Mum's here - just have a bath.  And if I try and be more assertive I can nap when Etta naps when Mum's here.  I find this tricky because it's nice to have time alone with Mum without Etta to just chat (Etta says 'no talking' to us so often it's like a mantra) - so it's easy to just not get to nap.  Because I love talking to my Mum, and it's good for both of our brains.  But I think, for the time being, I need to prioritise that sleep time until I'm feeling a little more sane.***

And had I not had the respite lady come and make me crazy and freak out I probably would never have come to any of those realisations about the 'respite' I have already available at hand and how the real issue is that I'm not utilising it the best way possible.  So while yesterday things felt quite raw and traumatic, today I am feeling grateful for that experience and like I've made an epic discovery which means I will have respite every week.  Which is amazing.

So at the end of the day I'm a super lucky lady.  And while anxiety trumped support, I've found ways of better using the support I already have from my whanau (who are amazing just by the way).



* I don't know how your toddler acts out, but for ours it's screaming, throwing (chairs, toys, anything she can lift), hitting (others and herself).  And it can last from anywhere from a few minutes to an hour.  And if you try and offer her anything it feeds the tantrum.  So the best way to manage it is to remove all dangerous objects from her path of destruction, be available to comfort her when she's ready, and get her to help you tidy up the other destruction once she's really, really calmed down (not before, or it'll set her off again).  So what I'm saying here is that she's full on.

** What currently happens is I run errands and I clean and I take a little time to myself, but generally run about like a mad thing the rest of the time so don't end up feeling all that rested at the end of the day.  Which is silly really, but soooo easy to do with a family and a never ending list of jobs to do which are MUCH easier generally when you are sans toddler.

*** And we have Netflix now, and I've shown Mum how to use it so I feel way less guilty about leaving her in the lounge with nothing to do while sometimes all the rest of us are napping.  Because Orange is the New Black is fucking awesome.  And yes, I know, I'm WAY behind the ball on that one.

On the 30 day Painting Challenge

So here's a visual summary of my favorite bits of what happened over the last month:

Not a terrible painting for day1

First undersea-esque scene

A bit different, but still interesting

Odd but fun with the spots and translucency

Strange but happy making

Love the little dragon thing.  Not quite where I want to be, but getting there

And now here's the brainthink summary of what's happened.

Firstly, I am kinda surprised that I managed to do it.  Did I paint one thing every day for 30 days?  Nope.  I cheated, like many will have done to complete this project.  Some days (mostly days where I wasn't really home) I found this totally unachieveable, but I managed to make up for them on other days where my creative brain was firing a little better. 

Also, I didn't just paint 30 paintings.  Although I am definitely not totally happy with the majority of these paintings, there were others that just made me so unhappy they didn't even make the blog cut.  So I probably did more like 35 - 40 paintings in 30 days.  And that's pretty awesome.

So today is my first non-painting day, and I've felt a little at a loss.  My gear is still all set up at the table.  Nevertheless, I've decided not to paint today so I can have a think about where to next.

What this project has really solidified for me is that I can have some sort of an art practice despite the fact I run around after small crazy things all day.  I honestly didn't think I could.  Yes, there are quite a few limitations, but it's still possible.  And it makes me ponder the other possibilities of things I could add to my life.

So today I am researching free online courses.  A friend has been doing a poetry course online for free and it made me wonder what other free educational opportunities may be out there waiting for me.  The kind I can manage without time constraint in the little snippets of free time I have.  I love learning, and there are a few things in particular that I can see being of use to me in the near future.

And will I be continuing to paint?  Yes!  I now have a bunch of questions generated about where these paintings (well, painted drawings) should move to next.  I'm thinking I need to simplify and upscale, although I'm not sure whether it's the scale of the mark or just the paper that needs upscaling.  Because I work best in project form where I must be accountable at the end, I will try and set a fortnightly painting goal to achieve and blog about.  Hopefully that'll be enough to keep me working!

The next question I have to answer is what to do with all these paintings?  I want to keep some, but I can't keep them all.  Do I give them away?  Have a show?  Sell them?  Maybe someone out there in the interweb has some good ideas.

Week 4 of the 30 Day Painting Challenge

Day 22: Sea slug emerges

Day 23: Standard Jelly

Day 24: Flowers Love Acid Rain

 Day 25: Flotsam and Jetsam

Day 26: In a Puff of Smoke

Day 27: Wallpaper for microbes

Day 28: Unusual School 

Day 29: Psychedelic Catfish

Day 30: Tiny Whale