You win some, you lose some. For all my mothering and motherhood skills, I suppose I have a trick or two to learn from Thrifty Mommy, though I’ve come a long way.

I’ve been trying to adhere to the Compact, as well as I can. Basically, I’m not supposed to buy anything new except medicine, food, and underwear. Glasses, I suppose. For the eyes, not the drinks. For the most part, I’ve been doing well. About a month ago, I spotted a platform bed in shambles on the street. I  borrowed a friend’s car and schlepped the pieces back to my house, then spent a laborious week trying to find the right bolts to put the thing back together again. Yes, I had to buy the bolts new, but I figured such a detail was mitigated by the sheer bulk of wood and such I’d just rescued from the dump.

It’s a very pretty bed, once I glued the broken bits back together and figured out that beds made in Malaysia might need metric bolts.  Never mind that I’ve got a (donated) full sized mattress on a queen sized frame. Ain’t nobody here to complain about it, just me and my boy.

Last month, I took the proceeds from the two blogs I write and treated myself to a set of three nesting tables: Danish Modern, used. That falls under the Compact, because I didn’t buy it new. And I made a new friend, who does personal shopping. If ever I own my own home, I’ll ask him to help furnish it. But those tables are the only things I’ve bought. Everything else came from family, friends, or Freecycle.

I buy all my clothes from a consignment store in my neighborhood, and the King of Everything is happy in hand-me-downs and thrift store finds. I pass his clothes on to a friend who has helped me out immensely, and to another single parent who could use a little help now and again.

In theory, I’m supposed to barter for services, but that’s just not going to work. There’s nothing my favorite hair dresser would need from me, and I don’t have the time to do any marketing or PR work for him anyway. So I pay for that haircut, and a luxury it is… massage chairs and a head massage at shampoo time, a cuppa in one hand and a good chat in the mirror as Dennis makes me something approaching teh hot. And I succumbed to the siren call of a pedicure and hey, the manicure was only $8 more!

I didn’t do too badly on the kid’s birthday, either. Friends and family bought him a few presents, no one went overboard. His father sent him some great space books, including a pop up pop out book on the space shuttle that unfolds to a four foot long extravaganza. But I gave Nico toys that friends have gifted us when we moved into our new house, toys they were recycling from their kids. Still in the box! My best score was a digital camera from Freecycle. He has been asking for a camera since Christmas, and takes a decent photo for a four year old. But I totally fell down on the job when it comes to plates, cups, napkins, and party favors. I bought them. New. And someone else made the cake.

And my guilty little secret: a couple of times a month I stop into the Caribou Coffee a block from the office to get a decent cup of coffee. But mostly, to say hello to the manager and soak in some of his incredibly kind, warm, friendly personality before I wander into my oh-so-amazing and stress-laden job.