A few years ago, my mother’s home was flooded and very badly damaged. During a cold New England weekend, a pipe burst in the attic. Water made its way through the entire house, soaking the carpets and the walls. Water found its way into the kitchen cabinets and seeped into pictures and paintings. As I frantically rummaged through my childhood bedroom to see what I could save, I was amazed at how many things I had once carefully wrapped away. Childhood charm bracelets, my prized Benetton t-shirt, a small wooden jewelry box, a seashell necklace, two porcelain dolls, and a box of other items.
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While we didn’t have a lot of money growing up, I valued whatever we received. Every gift I received was cherished like a priceless item I could never find again. Every toy, chachki, and knick knack felt like that giant blue pendant necklace tossed into the ocean in the movie Titanic because I knew my parents wouldn’t have the money to buy me another one if it was lost or broken.
My children are growing up in a different world. “Mom, this broke,” my kids will say. “I need another one ordered on Amazon.”Â
As a dual career household, trying to manage traveling to a client, making sure there are string cheeses stocked in the fridge, finishing that work proposal, searching for a sports jersey for school, responding to emails from the boss, and helping with the science fair project that becomes your own—I often relent and just give up. My husband will try to give them a lecture on the value of money (and the belongings money buys) as I race onto the next thing to do. I will quickly order whatever they have broken, lost, or need another of, as I race around looking for the right sized poster board for another school project.
As a child, I knew my parents often lived in survival mode. My dad was the primary breadwinner and worked as a mechanical engineer. My mother stayed home and was our chef, teacher, Uber driver, nurse, cleaning service, and more. She was also the bookkeeper, watching our finances carefully, cutting up dozens and dozens of coupons, paying only in cash for what we could afford, standing in line in cold weather with her best friend for hours to get the best deals on toys for Christmas.Â
My Indian immigrant parents had left everyone and everything they knew behind for a life in a strange new land. They had no support system in the U.S. If they couldn’t pay their bills, there was no one to help them. They hustled, sometimes living paycheck-to-paycheck and sacrificed a lot for my younger brother and I. There were times when my dad almost lost his job, we moved a number of times (I went to four different high schools), and we knew when finances were tight. While my parents were transparent with us about finances, and sometimes I felt anxiety over it. But it also set expectations, taught us the value of things, and established in us a strong understanding of money.Â
Finding my prized Benetton shirt and crusty seashell necklace in my wrecked childhood bedroom reminded me that I was raising my children in the exact opposite manner. I was shielding them from all things having to do with money. As filmmaker Ava Durnay says, “I am my ancestor’s wildest dreams” and today I live with a level of wealth and privilege many of them could not have ever imagined: a refrigerator stocked full of food, closets full of clothes and shoes, and a home with hot water, with plenty of heat in the winters, and air conditioning in the summers. I didn’t want my children to be anxious or to worry about money. But by accident, I created a conversely chilling effect: my kids didn’t value things. They had no understanding of how much or how little things cost—or what it took to earn a dollar.
Over the last few years, my mission to teach my children about the value of things has played out in big and small ways. We let them know we order in more than two meals a week. Occasionally we will order in more if there’s an emergency (meaning my husband and I forgot to prepare a meal.) We started chatting with our 9-year-old and twelve year old over how bird flu was impacting the availability and prices of eggs. My husband gave them a kid-friendly lesson on what tariffs are and how they work. We discussed how the impact of potential tariffs put in place by this current administration could raise the cost of food items like maple syrup, avocados, strawberries, and tomatoes—and that we therefore may be buying less of them. Our kids also take turns every week going to the grocery store with us so that they have an understanding of prices and what they are buying.
As a family, we watched Buy Now on Netflix and talked about our addiction to buying things. I reminded them that when I was growing up, we didn’t sit on the couch, click “buy,” and order things on phones. If we wanted a new item of clothing, for instance, had to have our parents drive us to the store, find parking, walk into the store, try on different colors and sizes and ask someone for help, and then decide if we wanted to buy the item now, or later. We also spoke with our kids about how we are constantly being convinced to buy things we don’t need, where the items we donate really go, and the impact buying so many things has on our environment. I told my children I wouldn’t be buying any new apparel for myself for an entire year, and so far, I have held onto that promise.
Now, we offer ways to earn extra money around the house. They do not earn money for making their beds, folding their laundry, cleaning their bedrooms, or brushing their teeth, as my daughter suggested, trying to outsmart us. We won’t pay them for keeping themselves and their space clean. But they can earn money to help shovel snow, clean the car, clear out the garage, and other much larger tasks in our home or at their grandparents’ homes.
Finally, we let them know if they lose something, they have to pay for it themselves out of the money they have earned. If it’s a toy that’s broken, we can work together with duct tape or super glue to try to fix it. Or they can ask for a replacement for their birthday or a special occasion. It won’t be immediately ordered and replaced from Amazon. If it’s an essential school item, like winter gloves, they will get a replacement with the promise of good behavior which will be monitored, and punishments ready to be delivered.
It has taken time, but I am slowly shedding my personal fears about talking about money. Ultimately, shielding my kids from the impact money can have on our lives isn’t in their best interest. If I want to set them up for success in life, I need them to understand and appreciate the value of things. And I need them to know that Amazon, with just one click, won’t always be there to save the day.
