Money

There’s nothing like arguing over money to make a family regress.

I get angry with R. because money burns a hole in her pocket. She gets angry with me because I comment on her spending habits. And F. (ever Mr. Nice Guy), believes that increasing her weekly allowance would solve the problem, which makes me angry with him.

And I thought middle-of-the-night nursing was tough.

I went to college on full financial aid. My mother was a single mom. For my entire adolescence, we lived on welfare and food stamps. Throughout college, I had work study. During my freshman year, I scrubbed toilets from 6 a.m. to 9 a.m. five days a week before school started. F’s parents were able to afford his undergraduate and graduate education. He never had to work. Doing well was his only job.

Needless to say, we disagree about how much R should get each week. F. thinks she should have more than enough so she always has cash in her pocket. I think she should have just enough so she learns how to budget. We compromise: R. gets less money than F. would like, but more than I think she needs.

I also thought we were finally done with F. being Mr. Nice Guy and me being the police.

College costs are crushing, especially when campus is New York City. The word “poor” used to go with “college student.” But today—at least in Manhattan—kids go to college with money belts. I don’t know how families do it. More important, I don’t know why families do it. Doesn’t good parenting mean teaching kids to recognize limits? Would we really be doing R. a favor by keeping her ATM card loaded?

R. hates asking for money, and most of the time, she spends responsibly. But she feels embarrassed when low funds prevent her from joining her friends for dinner out or a cab ride. And although I believe that learning to manage money and say no to luxuries is part of her growing up, I am still a mama bear whose first instinct is to protect my child from pain, psychic or otherwise.

Who said it gets easier once they leave home?