As I stood at the checkout counter of a sports store with my daughter’s new Little League gear, I could almost hear my partner’s voice echoing in my head. “Does she really need all of that?” I couldn’t help but wonder if a seven-year-old truly required practice balls, batting gloves, a new bat, and even a bag of Big League Chew bubble gum. The logical answer was a resounding no. After all, my daughter had never played baseball before, and there was no guarantee she would want to continue next season. Our trip to the store was primarily meant to get her a baseball mitt—the only essential item for her upcoming coach-pitch team.
She was thrilled to return home and flaunt her shiny new equipment, but the reality was that she hadn’t requested any of the extras. I was the one who insisted on the splurge. Predictably, my partner raised an eyebrow as my daughter kept unearthing unnecessary items from her shopping bag.
Later that evening, I acknowledged that I had indeed gone overboard; the extra gear was more for my own nostalgic enjoyment than for my daughter’s benefit. I was indulging my inner child—the one who longed for the chance to choose a new bat and get ready for the thrill of a new season in a beloved sport.
Having grown up in a low-income household, I was acutely aware of our financial struggles from a young age. My family relied on government assistance, food donations, and charity. Financial insecurity was a constant companion in our lives. My father frequently faced unemployment, while my mother juggled multiple jobs to keep us afloat. The anxiety over money loomed large, and the fear of losing our home always lurked in the background.
Despite being fully aware of our economic challenges, I still had desires. As a child, I longed for items that would help me fit in, especially during the awkward middle school years. I wanted those trendy sneakers instead of the generic ones. I craved the cash to buy books at the school fair and the latest toys. Instead of using hand-me-downs, I wished for new cleats and a shiny bat for baseball season.
Sports became my escape. While I may not have been a natural athlete, I worked diligently to improve my skills. On the field or court, I found a sense of belonging and purpose that was often absent at home. I was valued for my contributions, and for a moment, I could forget the realities of my upbringing.
I recognize that while I didn’t have a lot, I did appreciate the few things I had. I understood my mother’s sacrifices and felt resentment towards my father for his lack of responsibility. I don’t want my children to experience the same struggles I faced, but I also don’t want them to grow up with a sense of entitlement. Striking a balance is essential; I want them to appreciate hard work without feeling the burden of adult responsibilities.
Yet, I admit that sometimes I go a bit overboard when it comes to treating my kids. I find joy in giving them the experiences I yearned for as a child, and that can lead to moments of indulgence. Each time I do so, I feel both excitement and gratitude. I see it as a way of fulfilling the dreams of my inner child through my daughter.
Walking out of the store with an abundance of items, I realized I was living vicariously through her. It’s a pattern I’ve followed before, and it’s one I’m likely to repeat in the future. Don’t forget to check out another engaging post about navigating fertility journeys at Make a Mom and discover valuable insights on infertility treatment at ACOG.
Summary
The author reflects on her childhood experiences with financial struggles and how they shape her parenting approach. While she aims to avoid raising entitled children, she sometimes indulges them to fulfill her own desires from the past. Balancing generosity with responsibility is key in her parenting philosophy.