Ripping into Dave Ramsey

When it has come to my finances, I have always been optimistic. "Is optimistic another word for apathetic?" my husband asked. So while Brad dramatically declared that he felt like we were drowning in debt a decade ago, I (like my cartoon alter-ego, Dory) just kept swimming merrily along. "It'll all work out," I hummed with bubbling enthusiasm.

Because his nerves were beginning to fray, Brad gave up listening to The Frey on his ridiculously long daily commutes and started listening to Dave Ramsey. Instead of rocking out to Nickleback, Brad began actively seeking ways to actually get his nickle back. No problem, I thought to myself, whatever keeps him off my back.

But then all these ridiculous suggestions kept popping up. "What would you think about keeping our monthly bill money in labeled envelopes?" Brad asked. I shrugged. Whatever floats your boat, there, Big Guy. Wait a second!!! My grocery money is considered BILL MONEY?!? Then Brad casually borrowed my magic debit card one day and I never saw it again. "How do I buy groceries," I cried. Brad waved some flimsy green paper in front of me. I got my revenge by spending it TO THE CENT every week...family members trembling in horror that we might go over and Mom might have to, gasp...have the cashier remove some items from the bill (or start eliciting charitable donations from other customers in line).

So for ten years, Brad determinedly dug us out of debt and I energetically made his life miserable. He would celebrate as each debt domino fell and I would whine that buying two dozen plush pachyderms for the culmination of Elephant Week in 4th grade was a reasonable request. More often than not, he paid for the pachyderms. And then, finally, "we" did it. "We" were out of debt. Thank goodness, I sighed,  Now I can live the life I deserve. But...oh no...now the lunatic...oops, the love of my life...was focused on investments and retirement. Alright...who WAS this Dave Ramsey character? And what did he do to my husband? I was about to find out.

Over twenty years ago, Brad decided that our family should go to church. He researched...did some visits...and then was ready. He was ready. I was perfectly happy "home-churching" myself. That consisted of me not switching the channel too slow-ly on a Sunday morning if I accidentally stumbled on some sort of repellent...ahhh...reverent religious programming. "You go ahead," I encouraged, plopping down happily in the living room. I half-listened as he got four-year-old Savannah ready to go. "Why isn't Mommy going," I heard her sweet voice ask (which I am sure she was reading from cue cards Brad was holding up). "Maybe someday she'll want to go with us," Brad said tearfully to his daughter while his wife stormed into the bedroom to get dressed for church.

Two weeks ago, Brad decided to take the Dave Ramsey class offered at church. "But we're OUT of debt," I argued, "And Thursday night television is pretty good." He glanced at our younger daughter, Sydney whose recent hobby is taking back redeemable cans for spending money as all her cash is aimed at college tuition. "I thought it would be a good idea for someone in our family..." he whispered while I glared. Please.

"Why don't you introduce yourselves and tell us why you're here," our financial coach began. Oh yeah. I was all over this. Brad winced as I began. "I'm Amy Mosiman," I smiled, "Could you please direct me to the chapter that discusses hiding money from your spouse? If there isn't one, I'd be happy to submit some ideas."

Plus we have homework. Are you serious? So I'm reading Dave's book (Yeah...we're on a first name basis now...when you want to beat someone up...you don't shout, "Hey! Where's Mr. Ramsey?") aloud to Brad when we get to a section detailing the different "types" of partners. Apparently, Brad is classified as a Nerd while I am a Free Spirit. Well, guess what, Dave Ramsey? YOU DO NOT KNOW ME! Then Dave gives some rules for these types of people. Rules?!?! Do you see me leaning against my motorcycle with a lollipop sticking out of my mouth, muttering, "Budgeting? Fiscal responsibility? What else you got, Dave Ramsey?"

Rule #1:  You must COME TO THE MEETING (What the hiddey-hey! Did Brad call him?)

Another rule:  You have to stop saying, "What ever you want to do, honey."

Well...I did stop. I stopped right there and, to Brad's horror, ripped that page right out of the book. Would a free spirit do THAT, Dave Ramsey?!?

Okay...I feel better. Where's the scotch tape?