I Want to be the Grasshopper!

Remember that old fable (made into a Disney cartoon) about the ant and the grasshopper? The industrious little ant works away, storing up goodies for the winter, and the lazy grasshopper hangs out in the hammock. But then at the end of the story, at least the Disney revisionist history version, the generous ant shares his bounty with the grasshopper, and everyone has a good laugh.

I've decided I want to be the grasshopper. Because actually, the main thing wrong in that story is assuming that being the ant pays off. DH and I are careful with our money, partly because we just believe in living a modest lifestyle, partly cause we're paranoid from parents who threatened homelessness when really it was nowhere near, and partly because we've known for a long time that IVF was likely to become a reality in our lives.

But then. But then we spent the money on IVF, and it failed. And then the value of our house dropped below what we paid for it in 2004. And then our retirement accounts fell by 25%.

And then the fertility clinic told me it was going to be another $500 to do a frozen transfer (my contract made it look like it was all part of the fee I already paid).

You'd think I'd sweat the big stuff. But no. No, I'm sweating that last $500. My first car cost $500. This feels like insult to injury. And I think about friends we have, friends who don't save for retirement and just buy whatever they want whenever they want, and have babies whenever they want. And I think, "If those people were starving like the grasshopper, I would not be sharing my summer berries." Only I know I would, so I think if I'd do it for them, they'd do it for me. So I need to go find my own ant. Cause being the ant is a waste of time.