Gabs Finance

I don’t want to spend my kids’ entire childhood saying, “Maybe this weekend.”

That’s why I care about financial freedom.

Pancakes on a Tuesday.
Gym at 10.
Laptop closed by 3.
Dinner together without checking work emails between bites.

As a dad of four, those ordinary moments mean a lot to me.

And yes, the bills still have to get paid. Groceries don’t accept “quality time” at checkout.

I respect the parents working late, picking up extra shifts, and missing dinner so their kids have dinner.

I know closing the laptop at 3 is a goal many families are still working toward.

But that’s what I want to build with my money.

Enough breathing room to say yes when my kids ask, “Dad, can you come?”

The Lamborghini can wait.

They won’t stay little.

Getting paid should feel like relief.

Too many people look at their paycheck and think, “Which bill has to wait?”

Make $49,000 a year.
Pay $3,200 a month in rent.

That’s $38,400 a year just to have somewhere to sleep.

You’ve got $10,600 left BEFORE taxes, groceries, transportation, or anything else life throws at you.

Then somebody says, “Have you tried making coffee at home?”

Come on.

I teach economics. I believe in budgeting. But a budget can show you the shortfall. It can’t magically fill it.

People are working full time and losing sleep over a grocery total.

They’re putting off the dentist.
Praying the car starts.
Checking their balance before buying the basics.

That wears a person down.

Wanting your paycheck to cover a modest life shouldn’t feel like asking for too much.

What bill makes you feel like your paycheck was spent before it even arrived?

The English language owes me an explanation.

A slim chance means probably not.
A fat chance means absolutely not.

Apparently, the odds are terrible in every size.

And growing up, “we’ll see” meant no. Your parents just let you waste the afternoon building your case.

I came prepared with reasons.
My mom came prepared with “I said we’ll see.”

Meeting adjourned.

Now I’m an adult, and somebody says, “There’s a good chance.”

Good according to WHO?

Because I grew up on “maybe” and “ask your father.”

I’ll need that chance in writing before you get my deposit.

A $50,000 PAYCHECK.
A $400,000 STARTER HOME.

And somehow the coffee gets blamed.

Imagine working full time, paying your bills, and managing to save $20,000.

That takes discipline. Sacrifice. Saying “maybe next time” more times than you can count.

Put it toward that house and you still need a $380,000 mortgage.

Then come the property taxes.
Insurance.
Mortgage insurance.
Closing costs.
Moving expenses.

And the water heater that apparently waited until you became the owner to retire.

So you keep renting.
Keep saving.
Keep trying.

Then somebody looks at your coffee and says, “That’s why you can’t buy a house.”

Come on.

I teach economics. I believe in budgeting. Small purchases absolutely add up.

But so does the cost of a house.

We cannot keep handing people coffee advice while ignoring the size of the mortgage they would need.

“Starter home” should mean a modest place to get started.

A couple of bedrooms.
A kitchen.
A little space to raise a family.

And enough money left over to handle a car repair without putting groceries on a credit card.

People are working hard for that. They’re making sacrifices for that.

They deserve a more honest conversation than another lecture about their latte.

When ordinary work can’t buy an ordinary home, we need to stop pretending the coffee order explains it.

YOUR KID WANTED TO PLAY SOCCER. HOW DID THAT TURN INTO A SECOND MORTGAGE?

You sign him up so he can get some exercise, make friends, and spend less time staring at a screen.

Then somebody says, “He should try travel.”

Sounds innocent enough.

Now you’ve got three practices a week.
Games all weekend.
A tournament two states away.

Registration.
Uniforms.
Cleats.
Hotels.
Gas.
Meals.
Another camp.

Apparently, the first camp didn’t finish teaching him soccer.

Then somebody brings up private coaching, highlight videos, and “college exposure.”

He’s 11.

He still needs reminders to put on deodorant. Can we slow down on the scholarship conversation?

But the hardest part isn’t the schedule.

It’s hearing:

“He has real potential.”
“You don’t want him falling behind.”
“All the other kids are doing it.”

Now saying “we can’t afford that” feels like saying “we don’t believe in you.”

As a dad of four, that’s the part that gets me.

You want to give your kids opportunities.

You also have to keep the lights on, buy groceries, and give their siblings some time too.

Travel sports can be wonderful. Coaches work hard. Kids can love the competition.

But parents need room to say “this doesn’t fit our family” without having their commitment questioned.

Then you get home Sunday night after an entire weekend of soccer.

Your kid asks:

“Can I go kick the ball around with my friends?”

That was what you wanted for him in the first place.

A ball.
Some friends.
A childhood he enjoys.

Your family’s financial stability matters more than keeping up with another family’s sports calendar.

“We can’t afford it” should never have to mean “we don’t believe in you.”

A HUNGRY KID SHOULD NOT HAVE TO ANSWER FOR AN ADULT’S BANK ACCOUNT.

That’s where I start.

I’m a Christian. I want children fed.

We can disagree about how school lunches should be funded. We can debate budgets, waste, eligibility, and who pays.

Those are fair conversations.

But those conversations belong at the adults’ table.

The kid standing in the lunch line can’t work overtime.

Can’t make rent cheaper.

Can’t make a late paycheck arrive sooner.

Can’t fix missing paperwork or remind a parent to put money in the lunch account.

They’re a kid. Their job is to learn.

And yes, sometimes parents make bad financial decisions.

Their child still needs to eat.

Personal responsibility matters. So does remembering who actually had a choice.

Putting every Christian in one box won’t help us solve this. Neither will treating a hungry child like a lesson somebody’s parent needs to learn.

Debate the funding.
Demand accountability.
Fix what isn’t working.

But feed the kid.

An empty stomach teaches a child nothing about financial responsibility.

FUNNY HOW THERE’S A BUDGET TO STUDY EMPLOYEE UNHAPPINESS, BUT NEVER A BUDGET FOR RAISES.

Hire the consultant.
Send the survey.
Schedule the meeting.

Ask employees what would make them feel more “valued.”

They say better pay.

Apparently, that answer needs another meeting.

Meanwhile, somebody is sitting in the parking lot checking whether they can afford groceries after the rent clears.

They don’t need a company coffee mug.

They need their paycheck to last until the next one.

You can’t keep telling people they’re essential while treating their financial stress like an attitude problem.

Yes, good managers matter.
Respect matters.
A reasonable workload matters.

So does being able to pay your bills after working all week.

Before you spend $100K asking why people stopped caring, listen to the answers they already gave you.

“We hear you” starts sounding expensive when everybody gets paid except the people you’re hearing.

HYPOTHETICALLY… if I bought my house for $185,000 in 2005 and the county now says it’s worth $542,000, where exactly is my $357,000?

Because I checked my bank account.

Still waiting.

I didn’t sell the house.
Nobody handed me a check.
My paycheck didn’t suddenly get bigger.

But somehow, the house making money ON PAPER can cost me more money IN REAL LIFE.

Yes, I understand property taxes pay for schools, roads, and local services. And a higher assessment doesn’t automatically mean the same increase in taxes. Local rules matter.

But understanding the system doesn’t make the bill easier to afford.

Especially when you’re retired.

Imagine spending 21 years paying off a house because you wanted some breathing room later.

You skipped vacations.
Kept the old car.
Made that payment every single month.

Finally, the mortgage is gone.

Then a tax bill shows up that takes another bite out of the retirement check you were counting on.

Same house.
Same kitchen.
Same retirement income.

Bigger bill.

And what’s the answer supposed to be?

“Congratulations. You’re wealthier now.”

Great. Can I pay the county with a piece of the hallway?

That equity has value. Absolutely.

But accessing it usually means selling the home, borrowing against it, or making another major financial decision.

That’s a lot to ask of someone who just wants to keep living where they already live.

We tell people to buy a home, pay it off, and build stability.

We should also tell them that taxes, insurance, and repairs keep coming long after the mortgage ends.

Because “paid off” feels a whole lot different when the cost of staying keeps climbing.

A house can be worth three times what you paid for it while you’re still buying the same store brand groceries.

Paper wealth doesn’t pay real bills.

And people who spent decades paying for their home deserve to be able to afford to stay in it.

YOU CAN SAVE FOR 40 YEARS. YOU CAN’T GUARANTEE YOU’LL GET 40 YEARS.

That’s why the dark joke in this screenshot hits.

People are afraid of spending their healthiest years working toward a life they might never get to enjoy.

One correction: a traditional 401(k) is generally tax deferred, not tax free. And the usual early withdrawal penalty threshold is 59½, not 67, with exceptions.

But the bigger point is about time.

Picture someone who has spent decades lifting, climbing, driving, or standing through every shift.

Their retirement spreadsheet says keep going.

Their knees say something else.

Then there’s the parent who leaves work to care for someone they love.

Or the person whose diagnosis changes every plan they had.

You can do everything “right” and still have life interrupt the schedule.

I believe in saving for retirement.

I also believe your family deserves some of your time before you retire.

Build the emergency fund.
Understand your employer match.
Put money away.

But leave room for a life along the way.

Save for the years ahead. But don’t make the people you love wait until retirement to get your time.