My daughter, Mia, placed her brand-new soccer gear on the counter at a local sports store, and I could almost hear my partner’s voice echoing in my mind. Does she really need all of this? Does a seven-year-old truly require new shin guards, a jersey, and a fancy ball? The straightforward answer is no. Clearly, Mia doesn’t need all of these extras, especially since she’s just starting out in soccer, and there’s no guarantee she’ll want to continue next season. We had originally gone to the store for just a new pair of cleats, the only essential item for her upcoming season.
She beamed as she showcased her new items, but it was evident that she hadn’t requested more than just the cleats. I was the one who pushed for the additional purchases, and predictably, I saw my partner raise an eyebrow as Mia excitedly revealed the unnecessary items from her shopping bag.
Later that evening, I confessed to my partner that I had gone a bit overboard. The truth was, the extra gear was less about Mia and more about my own childhood. I was indulging my inner child, the one who longed for the chance to select new sports equipment and gear that was never within reach.
Growing up in a financially strained environment, I learned early on that money was a constant issue. My family relied on government aid, food banks, and charity donations. It was a reality that loomed large in our household. My father often struggled to find steady work, while my mother juggled multiple jobs to keep us afloat. We constantly anticipated the next paycheck, and the anxiety of financial instability was ever-present.
I remember the dread of answering calls from bill collectors, instructed to tell them our parents weren’t at home. As I got older, I feared losing our house because of unpaid bills. Money became a frequent point of contention between my parents, with my mother often reminding my father that his gambling and smoking habits were not free either.
Despite knowing our economic situation, I still craved the things that would allow me to fit in, especially during middle school. I wanted trendy sneakers instead of discount store brands and money for school events. I yearned for new equipment for sports, not the hand-me-downs or second-hand items I often settled for.
Sports became my escape. Even though I wasn’t the most naturally athletic kid, I was determined and worked hard to excel. On the field or court, I could prove myself and feel valued, if only for those moments. I wanted to shed the label of being “the poor kid” and instead, I thrived in the camaraderie of my teammates.
While I appreciated the little I had, I also felt resentment towards my father for not contributing more. I don’t want my children to experience the same struggles I did, yet I also don’t want them to grow up without an understanding of the value of hard work and limits. It’s a balancing act; I don’t aim to raise entitled kids, but I find joy in spoiling them occasionally. I have put in the effort to build a better life, and I want them to enjoy the fruits of that labor without being burdened by my financial worries.
Yes, there are times I splurge on my kids because I’m reliving moments from my youth. As we left the store with an abundance of items, I felt a rush of happiness, fulfilling the wishes of the child I once was.
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In summary, while I sometimes indulge my children with excess, it’s a way for me to connect with my own childhood experiences. I strive to provide them with opportunities I never had while teaching them the importance of limits and responsibility.
Keyphrase: Spoiling Kids
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