💙 Theo & Izzy

Hey team!

Whew, we have a lot to catch up on.

For one, I’m a mom now! Theodore Patterson Cox (left) and Isabel Marilyn Cox (right) were born on January 12.

Everybody is happy, healthy and thriving. Mom and Dad are over the moon, although admittedly exhausted.

I’ll be honest — I’ve been checking the parents of multiples subreddit much more than I’ve been reading Bloomberg, so today’s post won’t be that hot take you’re looking for on AI capex, the new Fed chair or the tariffs that the Supreme Court snip-snapped out of existence. I’ll be back with thoughts on those later this year (and potentially some posts here and there before I’m back to publishing regularly).

Today, a stream of consciousness on a topic I can’t stop thinking about in midnight feedings. It’s a tough one, but I will never shy away from the tough stuff. It’s often the stuff that’ll make or break your financial habits.

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I’m six weeks into motherhood.

I’ve never experienced a pace of life like this before. You have one (in my case, two!) helpless newborns who depend on you for everything – food, comfort, care, stimulation. Life is broken into three-hour cycles: feed, diaper change, play time, sleep.

Frankly, I can’t put this pace into words. The best I can describe it is intense presence while the babies are awake, followed by absolute mania while they’re sleeping.

Wash bottles. Start laundry. Break down that mountain of Amazon boxes blocking your front door. Order probiotic drops because one baby has reflux issues. Do your physical therapy exercises because your pregnant belly grew so big that your abdominal wall split open. Shower, eat and pee when you can.

Still, the newborn phase is oddly peaceful at times. In between those productivity tornadoes, I’ve had a lot of time to sit and reflect as I stare into my babies’ glassy blue-green eyes.

I’ve thought a lot about the enormity of this new journey my husband and I are embarking on. For me, there’s been a huge chasm between knowing intuitively that parenthood changes everything and actually holding two living, breathing organisms that you’ll care for the rest of your days. Humans who could eventually change the world or break your heart. Maybe both. Right there, staring back at you with wide-eyed trust.

It’s all so intimidating. And I’ll be honest – the deep, meaningful, purpose-driven aspects of parenthood haven’t really surfaced yet. 

For now, I keep getting stuck in a rabbit hole of self-awareness.

I am their biggest idol. They’re watching my every move from today until forever. From the words I say to my broad strokes of anxiety, control and insecurity. The intergenerational trauma-type stuff that’s rooted deep within me.

I’ve been in therapy for about a decade, and I’m (mostly) aware of the baggage I’ve carried day after day for 34 years and four months. 

In my case, I’ve learned that people around me couldn’t guarantee security and stability, but that I could. I’ve lived my life under the grip of perfection, striving to control everything around me – my time, my food, my friends, my empathy.

Oh, and my money. 

Money management is a tricky subject to teach your children. It’s not that the concept of saving in a piggy bank is complicated. Rather, it’s because kids pick up more habits from what you do than what you say. Psychologists call this observational learning (hello, Albert Bandura) and researchers have proven time and time again that modeled behavior matters just as much (maybe more) than intentional practices.

In fact, a 2017 University of Michigan study found that children start developing spending and savings habits as young as five years old. You know, before they can even count quarters. Where do you think they learn this stuff from?

You can teach your kids all you want about the stock market or compounding interest. But they will probably remember your fiery arguments over spending too much money on takeout or your strange compulsion of washing and reusing Ziploc bags more than your math lessons.

I’ve lived this reality. Last year, I wrote a post about my own financial insecurity stemming from childhood. I often struggle to take appropriate risks in my own life, and I have a lose-it-all mentality when it comes to spending and investing. Yes, even as I smile on camera and wax poetic around complicated market and economic scenarios.

Sure, there are worse personal plagues than obsessing over numbers. But today, I’m asking myself if I want my children to feel the way I’ve felt forever – accomplishments and media appearances and bright, shiny economic proclamations aside.

Do I want my children to feel like they’re always on the ground, punching up for everything they’ve earned? Do I want them obsessing over every dollar they spend, or that magical net worth that will finally tell them they’re enough? 

Of course I don’t.

Yet here I am, staring into two 8-pound mirrors.

I’ve thought a lot about how to strike the right balance between teaching my babies how to appreciate the money they’ll have while keeping our own financial insecurities out of their lives. And I don’t have many answers, aside from more therapy.

I’ll teach my babies all about the stock market and compounding interest. They’ll get the piggy banks and coin counters and gifted company shares to learn about saving, investing and spending. I have years before they ask me for my credit card.

Still, as I listen to them babble on our baby monitor, I wonder which side of me will mold their little clay-like brains.

Mom, the stressed-out product of all kinds of financial wounds who puts way too much emphasis on saving a buck. Or Mom, the easy breezy superhero of their lives who gives them the space and support to write their own beautiful money stories.

To Theo & Izzy, the itty bitty loves of my life and my greatest projects yet:

Life is messy. People get greedy, never happy with what they have. Some of the most tragic situations revolve around money. Too much, too little. You’ll see people you love get consumed by the idea of what’s enough.

I can’t save you from all these complicated tensions.

But for now, I can feed, change and cuddle you.

And I’ll do the work to ensure my own cycle of financial trauma ends here.

Thanks for reading! I’ll see you when I see you.

Callie

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