Save, Share, Spend & Other Money Matters

by Dr. Marian C. Fritzemeier, Ed.D. © 2013green-piggy-bank-isolated-546207-s

“Can I get a candy bar?”

“Can I have some money to buy a hot dog at the baseball snack shack?”

“Can you buy me …..?”

Things Cost Money

Do you recognize these pleas for spending your money? In thinking about what money skills young people will need to live independently, the school age years are ideal for teaching about money management.

At an early age, children learn that things they want cost money. They know what dollar bills in a birthday card are for. In elementary school, usually during second grade, children learn the different types of money and how to make change. Some children spend their money immediately, while others save it for something they really want.

Share, Save, Spend

To encourage money management, saving, and giving, we gave each child three baby food jars marked with the words Share, Save, and Spend. Our daughters received a small allowance every Friday that they could spend on whatever they wanted after they put a dime for each dollar in the save jar, and a dime for each dollar in the share jar.

Ways to Share

As church attendees we wanted our daughters to learn about sharing with others. Sometimes they gave their “Share” money during a Sunday school class or to a special project, like the Angel Tree project for Christmas gifts for children with incarcerated parents.

Vacation Money

Another way we taught our girls about money was on family vacations. We provided meals for them, but we gave them a specific amount of money in an envelope for each day. The money was to cover the cost of snacks and souvenirs. This truly saved us money instead of paying for a snack, then another snack, then a souvenir, then another souvenir, etc.

Sometimes they saved up several days to buy something they really wanted. We also discovered that there were happier to eat snacks we’d brought along instead of using “their money” to buy snacks.

Modeling Money Choices

Most importantly, money management needs to be modeled by you. If you want your children to save and share with others, they need to see you doing likewise. If you want them spending money responsibly on vacation, let them watch you doing the same. With money matters, much is “caught.” Let your children catch you being a wise steward of the finances entrusted to you.

 

 

Laundry or Writing?

by Dr. Marian C. Fritzemeier, Ed.D. © 2013
“What keeps you from writing?” questions keynote speaker, during a writers conference in late March.
“The Laundry,” one mother replies.
The laundry? How old are your kids? I wonder.
The speaker wonders the same. “How old are your kids?” he probes.
“Four teenagers and one husband,” she boasts.
I hear the audience’s collective surprise. I haven’t done my kids’ laundry since they turned 13. Are you still doing your teenagers laundry? Is there something you do for your kids that they could do themselves? Is there something else you’d rather do with your time?
Milestones
My husband and I were committed to training our daughters to live independently and possess necessary life skills by the time they graduated from high school. Laundry falls into this category. We wanted milestones our children could experience in tangible ways affirming that they were growing up. Getting older requires more responsibilities, but it also comes with more privileges.
Privileges & Responsibilities
Starting at age ten, we negotiated with them both a privilege and a responsibility. Some years they chose the same privilege and responsibility while other years they differed. Each year they also went to bed 15 minutes later. For example, when they turned ten, they went to bed at 8:15 PM. The privilege they chose was getting their ears pierced. The responsibility was making family dinner one night a week.
Dinner Duty
“Make dinner one night a week?” a parent whines. “My kids can barely use the microwave.”
Yes, make dinner every week. They can do this because I started training our girls in the kitchen before they were two years old. Pictures attest to pouring with measuring cups, cracking eggs, using a hand mixer, and spooning cookie batter onto a baking sheet. Of course they made a mess. But they also enjoyed eating foods they helped prepare while learning math skills and nutrition. By age ten, they were ready. We had our fair share of burritos, spaghetti, and hot dog casserole. As they got older, they began trying more complex family recipes and finding recipes on their own.
Gender Issues
I know what you’re thinking. Your children are girls. You didn’t raise boys. It’s true, but we would have made the same requirements if we had had sons. They need the same skills for living independently as girls do. Serving as a male role model, my husband also began cooking dinner one night a week. Well, at least that’s what he called bringing home take-out food for some of his “cooking” nights.
Finally, A Driver’s License
But my favorite privilege and responsibility arrived with my daughters’ sweet sixteen birthday celebrations. Since my oldest daughter was eight, I’d been counting how many more years until she’d drive. Driving a car comes with a multitude of privileges, otherwise known as freedom, but also a multitude of responsibilities, otherwise known as DMV laws.
New Freedom for All
This new freedom wasn’t only for our daughters, but freedom for us as parents. Freedom from taking them everywhere they needed to go. The privilege: our car to drive as long as they maintained a 3.0 GPA. The responsibility: creating a family menu every two weeks and grocery shopping on a budget. We didn’t plan a menu and do major grocery shopping for over four years until our youngest moved out. What could you do with all that extra time?
Back to the Laundry
I just got so excited about the privileges and responsibilities that I forgot about the laundry challenges. I know. You’re concerned your teenagers will ruin their clothes. Most likely they won’t for two reasons. One, you’ve spent years training them; and two, they have a clothing budget that started at age twelve. They might ruin clothes YOU bought them, but its less likely they’ll ruin the ones they budgeted for and purchased. They know exactly how much each item costs and what it will cost to replace it. I’ll address more on that topic when I write more on “Money Matters.”
Laundry or ….?
So what would you rather do with your time?  Laundry or … ? I’d rather write. And since I don’t do my own laundry until Friday, today I’ll write.

“Are You There?” Hope Street: My Journey

Dr. Marian C. Fritzemeier, Ed.D.

“This will be good news,” I hope, answering the long-awaited call. It’s the nurse from the clouds-and-blue-sky-1387467-sneurologist’s office. “The doctor has reviewed all your records. He’s referring you to Stanford Neurology,” she reports.

Stanford. Five years ago. My mind flashes back automatically to grand mal seizures that started at, of all places, McDonalds in East Palo Alto. Aren’t they supposed to serve Happy Meals there? Next, the terrifying ambulance ride to Stanford Hospital’s Emergency Room. Between seizures I weakly plead, “Can you make them stop?”
Nurse. The nurse interrupts my thoughts. “Ma’am,… Ma’am, are you there?”
“Yes…, I’m here,” I hesitantly reply while silently questioning, “God, are You there?”
I’m physically on the phone, but  my mind’s recalling my body seizing over and over again for three more hours on a narrow hospital bed shoved somewhere along the ER’s neglected hallway. I softly implore, “Why can’t they make them stop?” My husband shakes his head while gently holding my hand. Then my body forcefully thrashes again.
Questions? The nurse rattles off more information jolting me to the present. “Do you have any questions?” she finally concludes. “No, …No questions,” I whisper.
I hit end on my cell phone. Did I really just say, “No questions?” Yeah, I’ve got questions, but not for the nurse. “God, are you serious? Stanford? I can’t go back there. Do You remember how traumatic it was?”
Prayer. Recently I prayed, “Should I continue pursuing medical options or accept the reality of my brain impairment?”
You answer, “Stanford Epilepsy AND their Sleep Center?”
Returning to Stanford is the last place I’d choose for medical treatment. Maybe I should’ve made more specific requests, like, “Should I continue homeopathy treatments? What about acupuncture? Continue supplements? But Stanford?” Last time I was dismissed like a crazy woman voluntarily producing seizures.
Make Seizures Stop. I can’t force that horrendous day from my thoughts. Then the radiology tech inquires, “Can you make the seizures stop long enough for a CT scan?”
Can I make them stop? For hours my voice begs anyone who vaguely looks associated with a hospital, “Please, please stop my seizures.”  Shaking my head No, “I can’t make them stop,” I mutter.
Relief. Finally, a kind soul pushes medicine through my I.V. The seizures stop within seconds. My body is quiet and still, almost lifeless. As my body begins relaxing, calmness returns. Someone directs, “Your C.T. scan is normal. Sign these papers and you can go home.”
Another Nurse. A second nurse’s voice draws me back during another phone call. “We’ve scheduled you to arrive at the Stanford Neurology & Epilepsy Center on October 15. You’ll be staying with us for up to a week,” she explains. “We’ll be monitoring your brain 24/7 and videotaping you. Do you have any questions?”
Questions? How many can I list? The questions I asked God over five years ago are still unanswered. Sometimes I wonder, “Are you there, God?” But the question I asked Him a few months ago is now answered. Not in a way I expected nor desired. Today He answers in a clear, calm, reassuring voice. “I’m here. I’m sending you to Stanford.”
 

Seriously, the Phone Book?

by Dr. Marian C. Fritzemeier, Ed.D. © 2012
“Seriously Mom. You’re going to use the phone book?”
While contemplating the Yellow Pages’ value, my daughter types in Papa Murphy’s, our zip code, and locates a coupon…all on line. In seconds, she’s ordering our garlic chicken pizza and cookie dough. I’m still wondering where I left my phone.
 “My six-week-old granddaughter is going to grow up without knowing about phone books,” I mutter. “When she’s older, she can use it as a booster seat,” my daughter jokes, trying to make me feel better. 

I don’t feel any better. How different will my grandchildren’s lives be from mine? How different than their parents’ lives? My two-year-old granddaughter has a “game” on her Grams’ phone, a recent Child Development Professor. How did I allow that? That’s not developmentally appropriate, I chastise myself.
Yesterday my four-year old grandson inquired, “Grams, where’s the video?” as I strap him in his car seat. “Gram’s car doesn’t have one. We can talk,” I proudly reply.  

Moment’s later my daughter directs me to Kylie Ann’s one month photos. “Just use the mouse and click on each photo,” she explains.  “It won’t work on the glass.”

“Just use the phone book,” she chuckles. “Now there’s a use for your phone book.” For a minute, I feel a little better. My phone book is still useful!
I return to my thoughts. My grandchildren won’t even know that phone books existed. What a different world they’ll live in; probably just as different as my childhood was from my great grandparents’ childhood. They didn’t know what telephone phone books were either.
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