Financially Affording Divorce

My kidney is now for sale.

When I was a teenager, I was terrified of getting pregnant and facing the wrath of my parents. Making barely $5/hour part-time, I saved $6,000 in highschool. I was on the pill. Guys I boned wore condoms. Still, I wasn’t going to mess around. Lacking the Internet, I had no idea the cost of an abortion. So I saved and saved my afterschool job money.

Until I got to university and a friend told me she had an abortion. “How much was it?” I asked. The answer? $250. Two hundred and fifty dollars. While all my friends were out getting fast food and buying cute clothes, I was saving like a maniac.

If there’s anything I’m good at, it’s saving money.

I feel for the stay-at-home spouse with children (typically the wife) who wants a divorce. It must be torture feeling trapped because your only two choices are to live miserably with a spouse in a stable house or live miserably single in a cardboard box.

Fortunately, I’ve kept my career while having two children. Unfortunately, I live in Southern California where two-income families are mandatory (unless one spouse makes as much income as two people or more). I have enough savings and home equity, even when split in half, to buy a little condo. Worst case scenario, I won’t be in a cardboard box.

Yelling “fuck it all!” while burning money as you sign divorce papers is a dumb financial decision. The reason I have decent savings is that I’ve thrived on living frugally while investing in homes that made money. My real estate agent told me that if I sell my house now I could easily make $100k over the valuation of the home and he could sell it in 4 days.

That sounds fantastic, except buying right now in Southern California is next to impossible. I’ve learned to avoid market frenzies and not get into bidding wars in the tens of thousands of dollars. This maniacal buying situation will inevitably lead to another bubble bursting. I’m too risk-averse to try. If you have a mortgage that is higher than your house is worth, you are effed to hell. I know. I’ve had that happen too.

My initial goal was to stick out living with the quasi-ex-husband until the kids’ school finishes in June. It takes two people to do this hybrid/virtual school model and the schedule is too erratic between our jobs and their academic needs. Then, I wanted to try a “Nesting” model where we get a tiny place elsewhere and we (the parents) rotate out of the house while the kids aren’t displaced out of their home. Logistically, it’s much easier for parents to travel than for kids. So like divorce, you’re split up and independent. You just keep the kids in the house and you switch out which parent lives there.

After an argument this week, I decided that I can’t wait until June. It’s ridiculous, isn’t it? To be this close to the finish line and not ride it out? I’ve stuck through tough situations to meet an end date or a goal. But this is a whole other psychological beast. One that I am ill-equipped to handle anymore.

I took the kids for ice cream yesterday. Last minute, my daughter asked Joseph to come along (my kids will remain oblivious as long as possible to avoid anything that distracts from their shitty school year and lack of socialization). It was pleasant on the surface. Inside, I was seething: why the fuck am I getting ice cream with a guy who just this week called me a “piece of shit”? No one in their right mind would get ice cream with someone who calls them that.

This translates to quality time with my kids. I’m gripping my fists to keep myself calm and composed. As much as I try, I’m unable to simultaneously “enjoy the moment” with my kids while biting my tongue and fake smiling around Joseph. I’m not building memories when he’s around.

When I’m around my quasi-ex-husband, I’m merely existing. I’m just a body with a pulse, nothing more.

When he’s not around, I can think of goals. I can plan. I can enjoy time with my kids, focusing on them. I’m genuinely happy.

Joseph wants us to put our savings towards investing in a little condo for the nesting situation. Financially, it’s brilliant. Little 2-bedroom condos aren’t as hot on the market and they’re easier to rent out if we needed to in a pinch. With a sizeable down payment, it’s foreseeable that it could be paid off (unlike our current mortgage, which will be paid off after I’m cryogenically frozen and woken up in 3259 years).

But then I’m stuck with two properties with someone I can’t stand. Instead of dealing with just the needs of the children, there are finances and home administration that I’d have to deal with as well.

My first alternative then is to ride things out until June, rent another place, and try nesting until we know later in the year whether we’re working from home or not permanently (this impacts the amount of child support I would get if he has to commute again, which then impacts my ability to buy out his half of this house). The catch is that renting is triple the cost of a mortgage for a tenth of the size. We would have to dip into our savings.

My other alternative is to suck it up, stay in the same house, and wait until the end of the year to see what happens with his job when the pandemic ends. The very earliest would be October. Thinking of that time frame makes me want to drink. Heavily.

Earlier today, Joseph asked if I wanted to walk to the pizza place with the kids for lunch. I declined and told him that it makes it difficult for me to enjoy spending time with all of us together when there’s one person who thinks I’m a “piece of ess aych eye tee”. While he begins with it saying that he is fine going in whatever direction I want with our divorce living situation (this whole thing is on me because he wants to stay together), we end with an argument. Not a full-on shouting match thankfully since the kids were nearby, but it wasn’t pleasant.

My daughter comes upstairs. She whispers that her dad is crying. From the top of the stairs, I hear Joseph bawling in the kitchen.

Admittedly, I’m a bitch. I’ve spent almost two decades learning to silently cry and do it in hiding. I have no patience for this emotional meltdown. Those meltdowns threw me for a loop last summer when I first mentioned our breakup but now, I’m as cold as ice around his loud weeping. I tell him to go to another room and that I’ll take over making the kids’ lunches.

Can I have the strength to do the full cut of this marriage instead of the financially-wise decision of getting a second property?

I have to. I already share two kids, I don’t want to share two properties as well.

For the first time in my life, I have to worry about my income being stable enough for not only me but for two dependents as well.

That’s terrifying. If I lose my job, I can hustle for myself (I’ll clean as a naked maid if I have to, I don’t care) but once kids are involved, there are additional things to factor in, such as erratic work schedules and health insurance.

Any “fun money” that I now have is out the window as well. Am I a cheap asshole? Yes, yes I am. Do I have to be? Nope. I do it because I get more satisfaction out of seeing my accounts grow than I do seeing a pair of shoes in my closet. But if I see a pair of boots that I adore within my budget, I have no qualms buying them.

I can’t do that anymore.

My friends talked about doing a spa weekend when Covid life is over.

I can’t do that anymore.

I want to sign my kids up for Krav Maga and myself if the schedule permits it.

I can’t do that anymore.

There’s a really cool summer day camp I want to put my kids in.

I can’t do that anymore.

Now I have to factor in things like budgeting for a microwave and the cost of children’s beds. It’s a first-world problem, but a significant drop in the quality of life for kids if I can’t afford the special pants my son needs because of his sensory issues or the copays for his behavioral therapy sessions.

As I’m editing this piece, Joseph comes in to ask about our autistic son’s special needs IEP meeting with the school because he was busy with a work meeting. After discussing it, I brought up the living situation.

I tell him that our real estate agent said it will be easier for us to buy our own places in the fall but we should sell our house over the summer. Joseph shrugs his shoulders.

Then I mention that despite my desire to split up now, it doesn’t make sense because I don’t feel comfortable buying a second property until we know we can get along trying a nesting situation. Thus, we should look around May for places to rent in June.

At one point, Joseph realizes that nesting doesn’t allow either of us to see the kids daily. “I thought that was the point,” he says.

“No, that would defeat the purpose of renting a whole other place if we’re going to spend all day back at the main house. At any given moment, one of us is not in the house. Before it was different because we would have done it during the school year and yes, that would take both of us being here. But now that it’s just summer, there’s no need for both of us to be here to help them.”

Joseph doesn’t like my answer but says, “I’m not in the mood to talk about it right now.” Then proceeds to flip out over the cost of buying new desks (not sure why the cost of desks was of concern compared to all the other furniture that needs purchasing). I reply, “I asked you this last week, whether you needed to carry your Wacom tablet back and forth or get another monitor. What did you think I was asking for if that didn’t mean that one of us would always be back at the condo working?”

He repeats that he doesn’t want to talk about it right now. I drop the subject. It’s on me to push this forward but when I do, he’ll insist that I forced this upon him without any say on his part. Joseph and I have discussed “Parenting Marriage” vs. “Nesting” dozens of times. If he’s that confused, he could Google them. But he won’t. Plausible deniability on his part if things go wrong.

Much like our marriage, I’m alone in making the financial choices during this separation. Then Joseph will blame me for those decisions. Lather, rinse, repeat. Except hopefully this time, there isn’t a “repeat”.

My superpower is being cheap while simultaneously hustling side gigs for work. As long as I think rationally (since Joseph doesn’t want to think about this), I believe I can make things work out in the long run without making significant changes. Like moving out of our school district.

As for single-income families that split up, my heart goes out to them. The non-income member is starting over from scratch with a career while trying to find childcare. All while moving out without the funds for adequate legal representation if the working spouse becomes a dick with a fancy-pants shark lawyer. I already have a career and post-Covid childcare covered, and yet I’m stressed. I think choosing a life of uncertainty for people who are stay-at-home parents so they can divorce is mind-blowingly brave.

I’m not Kim Kardashian in this divorce, where I’m squabbling over a few million in a prenup

I’m balancing the quality of my happiness against my kids’ quality of life. I know kids don’t need “stuff” but I’m not stoked to take away a standard, middle-income way of living when I’m already taking away their emotional security.

To stay-at-home parents getting divorced: hats off to you. You deserve much respect.