So, I am really grumpy today.
This is mainly a result of meeting with our financial planner last night for an unprecedented three hours.
Three hours of my life I'll never get back.
It was the follow-up meeting where he told us his recommendations -- you know, life insurance, disability, diversification of our portfolio. Blah, blah. I know essentially nothing about finances and financial planning, so I continued pinching my knee under the table to keep from falling asleep during his presentation.
I did wake up a little as he went over the numbers of how much we are worth. That's kind of cool. Then he covered the section about how much it would cost the family in the event of an untimely passing. Brian's number was well into the seven digits, fat with zeros. The financial guy practically purred over what Brian brings to the table and what an important, critical asset he is to our financial picture. He is the breadwinner, the hunter, the big cheese.
Top dawg.
As for me? Not so much.
And before I could stop myself, as I looked at that poor, pitiful little number, I blurted out, "That's all?"
So if you are asking just how much value does Kim bring to her family, let me tell you.
In two words: not much.
I looked at my sad little number with contempt. That's it? Out of everything I do for this family, that's my value? It didn't seem right. Or fair. The financial planner also essentially insinuated Brian should just remarry in the event of my untimely death and there wouldn't be so much as a hiccup in the ebb and flow of household finances.
Dude, what a kick in the pants.
Apparently, in the world of wealth management, the skills of a Domestic Engineer are not highly valued. We're a dime a dozen.
Honestly though, it makes you question yourself. I mean, what value have I brought to the family so far? Let's start at the beginning...um, bedrest, anyone? I pumped for seven freaking months. All of the number of nights I went without sleep. Moving this entire house - while renovating it - while Brian was in trial. Managing a child who defiantly runs ketchup-covered fingers through his hair when you politely ask him to use his fork. SwaddleGate, CatheterGate, NapGate and any other event I deemed to have a '-Gate' after it. The countless meltdowns at the park as a result of attempting to "share" toy trucks and balls. The weekly horror that is music classes. Paid humiliation (swimming lessons, for you new readers). The love, snuggles, hugs, and fist bumps shared on a daily basis. Knowing exactly what book Scotty wants to read when he baa's like a sheep. Understanding that "dot-dot" means "grape" and he needs Strawberry Quick to drink his milk. Remembering he hates the green blanket since it's scratchy but will fall asleep quickly if the lion blanket is near his face. Knowing Froggie is his best friend and his favorite truck is the one that beeps and is green. Appreciating that if Scotty is in an unfamiliar situation, he wraps his little arms around my neck and holds on for dear life, like a baby koala. Or, if we are apart, he will scan the crowd looking for my face, until he finds me. And then he lights up and calms down at the same time, all while charging for my knees to give me a big bear hug.
So if you want to rework those numbers, here's my casual estimation: priceless.
Suck on that, financial guy.
This is mainly a result of meeting with our financial planner last night for an unprecedented three hours.
Three hours of my life I'll never get back.
It was the follow-up meeting where he told us his recommendations -- you know, life insurance, disability, diversification of our portfolio. Blah, blah. I know essentially nothing about finances and financial planning, so I continued pinching my knee under the table to keep from falling asleep during his presentation.
I did wake up a little as he went over the numbers of how much we are worth. That's kind of cool. Then he covered the section about how much it would cost the family in the event of an untimely passing. Brian's number was well into the seven digits, fat with zeros. The financial guy practically purred over what Brian brings to the table and what an important, critical asset he is to our financial picture. He is the breadwinner, the hunter, the big cheese.
Top dawg.
As for me? Not so much.
And before I could stop myself, as I looked at that poor, pitiful little number, I blurted out, "That's all?"
So if you are asking just how much value does Kim bring to her family, let me tell you.
In two words: not much.
I looked at my sad little number with contempt. That's it? Out of everything I do for this family, that's my value? It didn't seem right. Or fair. The financial planner also essentially insinuated Brian should just remarry in the event of my untimely death and there wouldn't be so much as a hiccup in the ebb and flow of household finances.
Dude, what a kick in the pants.
Apparently, in the world of wealth management, the skills of a Domestic Engineer are not highly valued. We're a dime a dozen.
Honestly though, it makes you question yourself. I mean, what value have I brought to the family so far? Let's start at the beginning...um, bedrest, anyone? I pumped for seven freaking months. All of the number of nights I went without sleep. Moving this entire house - while renovating it - while Brian was in trial. Managing a child who defiantly runs ketchup-covered fingers through his hair when you politely ask him to use his fork. SwaddleGate, CatheterGate, NapGate and any other event I deemed to have a '-Gate' after it. The countless meltdowns at the park as a result of attempting to "share" toy trucks and balls. The weekly horror that is music classes. Paid humiliation (swimming lessons, for you new readers). The love, snuggles, hugs, and fist bumps shared on a daily basis. Knowing exactly what book Scotty wants to read when he baa's like a sheep. Understanding that "dot-dot" means "grape" and he needs Strawberry Quick to drink his milk. Remembering he hates the green blanket since it's scratchy but will fall asleep quickly if the lion blanket is near his face. Knowing Froggie is his best friend and his favorite truck is the one that beeps and is green. Appreciating that if Scotty is in an unfamiliar situation, he wraps his little arms around my neck and holds on for dear life, like a baby koala. Or, if we are apart, he will scan the crowd looking for my face, until he finds me. And then he lights up and calms down at the same time, all while charging for my knees to give me a big bear hug.
So if you want to rework those numbers, here's my casual estimation: priceless.
Suck on that, financial guy.
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