Recently the Jingkids team had a realization. Our childhood cultures directly impacted our relationships with money and the way we handle our finances. So, over the next few weeks, we will each take a few minutes to explore how our childhood culture affects our view of money both positively and negatively. We hope it encourages you to reflect on your own experiences and what messages you want (or don’t want) to send to your own kids.
My mom was told very clearly to go to college until she gets her MRS Degree (i.e. gets a husband) and then to drop out. So for most of her life and mine, she worked data entry jobs that she didn’t really care about. My father was a librarian who enjoyed his routines and to this day keeps all the bills and important documents in a basket near his recliner or on his desk.
We had a house outside of Boston that they bought for $25,000 in 1978, steady work, and were/are by far the most financially stable of our large Irish and Italian families. Money was certainly a concern at times, but rarely an obstacle, or we didn’t hear about it until it directly affected us. We weren’t able to go on extravagant vacations, but they insisted we leave town once or twice a year (a habit I will eternally be grateful to them for instilling in me), and so we visited old towns on the east coast that we could drive or take the train to. Nothing huge, just a change of scenery, a little history, and some interesting sights along the way.
We didn’t have to let the phone ring endlessly on (in the days before voicemail) like my aunt and uncle did, to avoid creditors. We didn’t have to rely on my grandparents to pay our rent like many of my relatives with lower paying jobs. We were able to somehow save enough for a Disneyworld trip when I was ten, but that meant no shopping trips for months afterward. My allowance went almost entirely towards comic books and my parents and grandparents took care of my savings bonds without me really having to do anything.
The first time I really recall talking to my father in-depth about money was when I got accepted to New York University (NYU) to study drama. We couldn’t afford it. I would have to take on tens of thousands of dollars in student loans in order to do it, and he would too. Accepting my position there meant my father would need to accept his political appointment to a government library position, leaving the public library he’d loved and grown into a bustling part of his community. I remember him telling me how I would be affected by student loans and interest for years to come (and I remember not caring because I’d be a famous director by then, so why worry – oh, the ignorant folly of youth), but I never remember my father telling me how my decision would affect his life and happiness.
Maybe he did. I know my mother tried to explain. I know I am still paying off my student loans, twenty years after graduating. I know that for many many years post-graduation, even while working full-time jobs, I needed him to bail me out a lot. Mostly, however, long-term planning and anything beyond how much my allowance could cover in comic books were not discussed. Maybe they thought that was for the best, and maybe things were much tighter than I could ever imagine and my father didn’t want to scare me. All I know now is that I’m certain my parents sacrificed a lot for my sister and me, but where our money went and how we could afford some things and not others was a bit mysterious to me.
I haven’t gone to the extreme other side when it comes to most of my own childhood, but in that respect, I parent quite differently. Ever since my kids could ask for things in the store or when LEGO so brilliantly marketed five more sets to them before we finished building the one we’d bought, I’ve explained the concept of money. It takes many years and much repeating, and we’re still teaching them. Especially in our current situation, when their mom is working outside of the home for the first time in their lifetimes, and we have a lot of privilege where we live. Every time they want something, we delve into how much they already have, and do they really need more LEGO bricks when we quite literally stack bins of unused bricks every day?
When we started playing online games, we made four rules, and one of them was “If you want to spend money in the game, ask Mommy or Daddy and we’ll talk about it.” We’ve said no as often as we’ve said yes to minor purchases, but we always talk about it and have them reason through why they do or do not need this to enhance their gameplay. They’ll often talk themselves out of it, to be honest. And when our oldest said he accidentally bought something because we hadn’t set up the parental control correctly, we asked him straight: “Can we trust you to have access to our bank card in Roblox, or not?” And after a second, he said “No,” which might have been the most trustworthy thing he could have said!
We still struggle with it, especially as we begin to transition out of the expat life and its cost of living perks. A lot of our money discussions revolve around how much we already have versus what we need to save money for — honestly in adult and child-related talks. When their ayi gifted them RMB 300 in hongbao last new year, we started them on the concept of “Spend 1/3, Save 1/3, and Donate 1/3.” I gave the boys a few options of how to spend their RMB 100, and they chose the LEGO Store (shocker). I remember their disappointment when I showed them where to look on the displays and how to calculate if they had enough for what they wanted. They briefly engaged in negotiating with each other to get a bigger set, then they found the perfect solution in an RMB 99 Ninjago mini-set and they could choose their favorite characters. Later at home, we upcycled some tins to make them both a bank and are still deciding where to donate their last RMB 100 to. (Can’t wait until they realize that USD doesn’t buy as many LEGO sets as the same amount of RMB).
The hardest part, honestly, is explaining how working more hours doesn’t necessarily bring you more money in a salaried position, and the importance of weighing mental health, love of a job, and the ability to survive into decisions made for and with the family when you’re lucky enough to have those choices. I have no doubt our feelings might be different if we were in more dire straits, and I appreciate that fact every day. Our decision to buy or not buy them a lollipop isn’t whether we can afford it, but how it will affect their teeth. That’s another huge privilege that allows us these conversations.
We have a lot of big decisions coming up that mostly revolve around money and happiness and the co-existence of the two, and as hard as the discussion is, we’re dedicated to talking openly about our struggles each step of the way.
KEEP READING: Teaching Kids About Finances: The Expat Kid
Images: Canva
