This Life We Have is Perfect For Us

I try my best not to be offended by kids. Ask any teacher, and they’ll tell you countless stories of ridiculous things kids have said to them with a straight face. Kids are still learning social etiquette (aren’t we all?), and most times they don’t mean to be, well, rude.

Why is your butt so big?
Why do you have cracks on your forehead?
How old are you, 100?
Why do you wear ugly shoes?

Because kids are still learning, I’m not offended by their questions (at least most of the time). One time, a child came over for a playdate and was appalled at the size of our house. Turning to my son, he whispered, “This place is so small–are you even happy here?” The question still makes me laugh. Are you even happy here?

We were driving to the grocery store a few weeks later when my son’s voice piped up from the backseat. “Are we rich, Momma?” I had a feeling this question had been simmering ever since that playdate. He seemed hesitant to ask, worried about the answer and what it would mean either way.

He probably wanted a simple yes or no. Kids like black-and-white answers. I like them too. I thought about saying, “You’ve been to Disney, kid. You’re rich.”

But talking about money is murky. Are we rich? I mean, not exactly, but kind of. We have a house, clothes, food, and a car that fits the whole family. Daddy has a good job. Yeah, we’re rich.

But that answer didn’t seem to suffice because our house is really small. Our clothes come from consignment shops and thrift stores. We buy cheap groceries and almost never go out to eat. We only have one car, and it’s 24 years old, has a dent in the front, doesn’t have a fully functional console, and has mismatched door handles because they’re so old they’ve fallen off. And while Daddy has a great job, it’s still only one income. I don’t know . . . are we rich?

A few streets over from our home, the houses are much bigger. Some of our kids’ friends live in this part of the city. One classmate lives in an actual mansion—an incredible home with too many rooms to count, a gorgeous backyard, high ceilings, and a wraparound porch. The home is jaw-droppingly beautiful and worth more than four times our house. Four times! (Thank you, Zillow, for assuaging my curiosity.)

After we left a birthday party at that house, I gushed over how incredible their home was. My husband brought my feet back into reality by saying, “You know we wouldn’t be any happier if we lived in that house though, right?”

And, of course, he’s right. I love our home. I can’t imagine living in a different one. It’s small, but that’s a perk, not a defect. I don’t need a baby monitor to know what our littlest is up to. When everyone is home, I can see each person, which I love. We spend a lot of time together and that’s important to me, especially while these kids are so little. I think it will be even more important as they get older. The truth is, we are happy here. And I’m convinced we are filthy rich in all the ways that matter most.