You Want it, You Buy it

Without divulging too much about my family dynamics and history, I can sum up my financial upbringing with two phrases:  ‘money was tight’ and ‘you want it, you buy it.’  My parents worked their arses off to provide the basics for us, but they couldn’t always meet the gaps between what they had and what we needed.

This was especially true when enduring the various Murphy strikes they encountered.  In this post, I’ll share a story that is literally one of the most poignant examples of this and one that has stuck with me to this day.

No Happy Meal for You

It was a hot summer day in the early 1980s.  During this time, my mother was a SAHM raising two young children.  My father worked full-time and provided everything a 3-year old could ever imagine needing:  food, a house, clothes, love, and Sesame Street.  He also played in his company’s softball league and I can fondly remember those nights we went to watch him play.

That was until that night when he broke his ankle sliding into home base.  While I had no idea what really was going on, I remember thinking that my mommy must be so sad because daddy was hurt.

Little did I know that my mother was silently praying to God that they’d be able to pay the bills because my father’s job required him to be on his feet and his new injury would keep him out of work for weeks.

No Money, Lots of Problems

Those weeks passed in a blur that is mostly forgotten in my memory at this point.  Except for the day that I saw a commercial for McDonald’s and innocently asked my mother if we could go get a Happy Meal because I was soooo hungry.  My mother had no response other than running out of the room with tears in her eyes.

My father was still laid up on the couch, and he offered a hug and said, “Maybe next time.”  Being the confused 3-year old I was who had already experienced the thrill of a Happy Meal, I was openly a bit upset.  I wanted a Happy Meal, and I wanted it now!  Oh, the tantrums of a toddler…

Grandma to the Rescue

Later that afternoon, my grandparents stopped by and offered to take my brother & I to McDonald’s because “Grandma heard we wanted some Happy Meals!”  As we piled eagerly into their car, I couldn’t help but notice my mommy standing in the window watching us.

I asked my grandma why Mommy was crying so hard and she said, “Well, sometimes mommies get sad, but she’ll be a-OK very soon.”  That seemed like a good enough answer for me, so I didn’t think much more about it.

That is, until years later when my mother & I were discussing finances.  She alluded to the struggles she & my father had experienced while I was growing up and I instantly remembered the Happy Meal story.

A Home Nearly Lost

I asked her about the tears she shed that day and she explained that they didn’t even have $2 to buy us a Happy Meal to split; that the checking account was overdrawn and they feared the possibility of losing their house.

It was on that day that I silently vowed never to be in such a situation myself.  I promised myself that I would work as hard as humanly possible to always have the money I needed to live a good life.

Little did I know that history has an interesting way of repeating itself….

This post is part of my Confessions of a PF Blogger series.  Other posts include:

• Confessions of a PF Blogger:  The Series
• Confessions of a PF Blogger:  No Happy Meal for You
• Confessions of a PF Blogger:  $0.25 per Quart
• Confessions of a PF Blogger: 16 Candles
• Confessions of a PF Blogger:  $5,500 in Cash
• Confessions of a PF Blogger: A Slow Slide into Credit Card Debt Hell
• Confessions of a PF Blogger:  $1 to My Name
• Confessions of a PF Blogger:  Homeless 
• Confessions of a PF Blogger: Powerless
• Confessions of a PF Blogger: A Second Chance