Sep
7
Saving money on the kids by giving allowances
Filed Under Family | 3 Comments
I never had an allowance when I was a kid. Chores were treated as pilgrimatic (is that even a word?) - you know, no work, no eat? Prior to 10 years old, if I needed to earn money Dad made a list of “extra” chores over and above the usual chores and assigned a value to each.
It can take a long damn time to earn money when a day of raking leaves only earns you $1.
When I was 11 we moved to New Hampshire and I wanted a 10-speed bike. I mowed lawns all summer, spent a little as I went, but managed to save up enough for a bike by labor day. Just in time for winter in NH.
So, when my wife and kids first started talking about allowances, I was not favorably inclined: “I put a roof over your head, food on the table, clothes on your back, and you have a roomful of toys. Um… NO!”
Eventually, I relented to following my father’s lead and drawing up a list of extra chores. Mind you, my kids have never been expected to do even a fraction of what we did at their age. So extra chores were things like ‘washing the dog’. They never lasted longer than two days. My master plan was intact.
A couple months ago my wife or I read about a family that paid allowances without specific lists of chores to accomplish (if it was another blogger, I apologize for not remembering where I read it), and the kids had to “pay their way”. If they wanted something, they paid for it. Family activities were exempted, but if they wanted a toy or gadget or clothing accessory, the kid had to save and pay.
Not so novel for a lot of you, I’m sure, but in our house it was. Bunch of little leech-beggars around these parts. My wife and her cohorts in crime, the Grandmas, helped the lil beggars develop a wicked Webkins habit.
So, what the hell, we decided to give it a try. “Great,” I thought, “Just what I need, another bill.”
But, it’s working. It’s saving us money in the process. Every time the begging starts, we can immediately ask “well, how much money do you have?” Cruel to do to a 6-year old? Don’t forget, she gets paid by us every week. We’re teaching her is budgeting and saving.
The 9-year old gets it. She’s a saver, but she isn’t cheap. She wanted a Flip video camera for her birthday, so she asked for Target gift cards and saved them all up and eventually managed to buy the Flip. Her allowance goes straight to the piggy bank, and she never begs. She responds immediately to any request to help around the house, whether it is unloading the dishwasher or climbing into the attic to look for Mom’s fall decorations. We haven’t tied the allowance to a specific activity, but she’s smart enough to understand how it’s all supposed to work.
A side benefit is that we’re seeing real savings. No longer are we weighing decisions about Webkins. They’re responsible for saving and buying everything over and above the normal necessities. We still pay for movies and entertainment and educational products and services, and anything that involves the whole family, but if it is for themselves, they know they’re responsible for saving. Dad does not pay for Webkins anymore.
How do you handle the money situations with your kids?
Aug
11
Innocence Lost
Filed Under Family | 2 Comments
My 9-year old is scaring me. Not only is she teaching herself to use GIMP and creating 3-D animated movies, she’s starting to check out my blogs.
Which means she could very well find her way to a nearly dormant blog with completely inappropriate content. Today, she saw the license-plate in the sidebar and popped over to imagechef to make a series of images for some of my blogs (some of which I was shocked she was even aware of), including this one.
Simple for her with imagechef, but I feel like my own innocence is lost. Now, I have to watch what I say and where I link because 9-year girls are reading.
I don’t wanna. Uh-uh. Nope.
Mar
17
Still in Exile
Filed Under Alabama | 3 Comments
“The only thing wrong with Huntsville is that it is surrounded by Alabama”
- Something I read in some newspaper
I’m missing my kids. You never realize how much you need physical contact like a hug until there’s no one around to give you one.
Ah well, slowly but surely I’m getting back in my routines. Spending the weekend doing laundry and cleaning and organizing and getting set to move into a real apartment at the end of the month was a big weight off my shoulders.
Some observations about Huntsville;
- The worst. drivers. ever. And I’ve lived in Orlando, with tourists. I mean, I’m a guy that drives 80 mph as a rule, but this place is like the training grounds for Talledega. And everyone has a cell phone in their ear while driving. The faster they drive, the more they talk. Weird. But it’s not just the speed, it’s the weaving and cutting in and out. If there ain’t rubbing, it ain’t racin’ right?
- There’s a morning news anchor that holds up various local and national newspapers and reads from them. WTF? I could do THAT.
- I ate breakfast at a restaurant called “Waffle King”. It’s exactly like Waffle House, but cleaner. I mean, every single bit is exactly like Waffle House. The whole time all I could think of was Coming to America.
“Look… me and the McDonald’s people got this little misunderstanding. See, they’re McDonald’s… I’m McDowell’s. They got the Golden Arches, mine is the Golden Arcs. They got the Big Mac, I got the Big Mick. We both got two all-beef patties, special sauce, lettuce, cheese, pickles and onions, but their buns have sesame seeds. My buns have no seeds.”
-Cleo McDowell
- Being in the Central Time Zone sucks. Who wants to watch Lost at 8 p.m.?
- Oh, the big news on the morning and evening news today is there’s a Bass Pro Shop being built over in Decatur!
- Old-school Publix, a mile away. Floridians know what I’m talking about.
- I’ve never seen such a small city with so many titty bars.
- I’ve been watching way too much TMZ.
- I’m pretty sure Huntsville has the most Walmarts per capita in the world.
- I saw Bill Clinton having breakfast with a Brunette at the Waffle King yesterday. I think.
- The number of Meth-Treatment billboards around town was unexpected.
- But, in the ten days I’ve been here, I haven’t seen a single report of a murder. Jacksonville can’t made it 24 hrs without one.
- Dude! I just saw Jennifer Anniston’s butt in an itsy-bitsy bikini on TMZ and it was awesome!
- For someone that once owned a 4 bedroom home, it’s shocking to see how little of what I own is actually mine, and how little of my “things” I really need. It’s all here in one room.
Mar
4
Jesus doesn’t know
Filed Under Family | 10 Comments
Last week, my 6-year old was being evil in church. Finally, I had enough and took her out of there (yes, I know she got what she wanted but it got to the point where she was physically injuring people next to her). The punishment was appropriate, and I also asked her to write a letter of apology to Jesus. Instead, she wrote it to God.
I’m saving it to frame when she gets older.
The translation, for those of you that can’t read kindergarten spelling and grammar:
Sorry I was bad so I’m sending this note.
Love Emily __________
xoooo
PS: Don’t tell Jesus, he doesn’t know
“
“
Feb
4
So, I get home from work last week, ready to discipline my oldest GIFTED student for deciding she wasn’t going to do math homework anymore. In an attempt to divert my attention, she started saying “You need to hear what [insert little sister’s name] did at school.”
I was not to be swayed. Discipline was reinforced because her mother already handled it. She handles the types of discipline, I’m just there to put the fear of god into them.
After she left the room, her mother joined me and said, “You really do need to know what [insert little sister’s name] did at school.”
Shiiiiiiiit.
My Kindergartener, my angel, my PRINCESS, did not get in trouble for talking, or not doing her work. No, my wife could not keep the grin off her face.
She started a food fight.
So, discipline was reinforced again, and I kept that stern, disappointed look on my face. Of course, I was laughing inside.
Then I read about these kids in Orlando that started a food fight - all planned out, with changes of clothes and everything. But what struck me as really bizarre was this:
It took 11 adults to clean up the mess…
ExcusemeWHAT?
Shouldn’t cleaning the lunchroom have been an immediate punishment? Yeah, yeah, they’re facing expulsion and all, but still - every pea, every carrot, every bit of mystery meat should have been cleaned up by the kids. It’s not like they’re kindergarteners - these are middle-school kids, perfectly capable of using brooms, mops, and sponges.
Come on, they knew better.
Dec
31
We had a great day today. Your sixth birthday, and 18 little princesses showed up!
But the best part for me occurred this morning, when it was just the two of us talking about what it means to be six years old. I tried to convince you that you are now a “Big Girl”, but you’re having none of that. You still want to be Daddy’s Little Girl, and I love you for it. When we hugged, you made me feel so special, and when you said out loud “I love my daddy”, I was so happy that I forgot how bad this cold has me feeling and raced around helping your Mommy do all those last-minute chores before the 18 princesses showed up.
Now, it’s 10:30 p.m., and you and your older sister are in the family room, trying valiantly to stay awake to see the New Year. And I am remembering what it was like on this night, six years ago.
We had a choice of when you could be born. Your Mommy was not in the best health, and the doctor knew ahead of time that he would have to do an operation to get you out of her belly. You were supposed to be born on January 9, but we talked about it and thought you might enjoy having your birthday on New Year’s Eve when you were older, so your birthday would always be a big event with all of your friends and family spending it with YOU.
Your future husband may hate us for that decision, but I know I’ll hate him for taking you away from me, so you can tell him I don’t really care what he thinks and he BETTER give you the birthdays you want.
When you came out of Mommy’s belly, it was really scary. Something happened with Mommy’s medicine, and she was able to feel the doctors’ cutting some of her insides. By then, it was too late and they had to keep to keep going. I remember looking around the operating room and seeing the eyes of the nurses above their masks. There seemed to be extra nurses, all there to do different jobs afterwards to take care of you and Mommy. All of their eyes were wide, and none of them were talking; I’m not even sure they were breathing. I looked at the nurse that was responsible for Mommy’s medicine, but she wouldn’t look at me. The doctor tried to tilt the table Mommy was laying on, to get the medicine to flow to the right places.
It didn’t work. Mommy cried a lot, but she never moved because she knew it wouldn’t be safe. She was very brave.
After you were out, I was told to go with you until the doctors fixed Mommy and moved her to your room. She was much better when I saw her a little while afterward. While waiting for them to bring her to her room, I brought our family up to the nursery to see you through the window. I held you up and you started crying really loud and got all red and angry, and your older sister got very scared and started crying because she thought you would be a sleeping like her little dolls. Soon, you slept a bunch.
Mommy says now that she thinks you weren’t “finished cooking” when we took you out. You slept and slept all day, and you wouldn’t wake up to drink anything. The doctors grew worried, and the nurses began checking you very frequently. They finally told us they were worried about something called “failure to thrive”, which basically means you didn’t know you were supposed wake up and start drinking stuff. That evening, I went with you to a special nursery with special nurses, and you held my finger while they put a tube through your nose and down your throat so they could feed you.
The nurses were nice and didn’t ask me to leave. They let me feed you through your tube that night. I stayed with you that night, sitting in a rocking chair and watching you and thinking about everything and nothing. I learned a couple things that night. I learned about real fear. More important, I learned the nature of love.
I was so worried when your Mom and I talked about having a second child. I thought Love was something finite, and I was afraid to have my Love for my child divided by a second child. It wasn’t normal to think that way, and your Pop-Pop and Grandma never made me feel like I shared their love with my brothers. But, I was still scared for some reason. Sitting with you that night, I realized that Love is infinite. I was able to love you completely, and never loved your sister any less. Love fills everything between a father and his children, and keeps pouring forth without end like water down a waterfall.
There are some men out there that have something wrong with themselves, and they find ways to turn their love off and on, like the water in a garden hose. But, there are way more men that love like I do. While the love between you and I is unique and special, these men are also able to love their children completely in their own way. I know someday you will find a man like that is able to do this, because I can tell that you will only love that kind of man.
I’ll still hate him, though. Shhhh, it will be our secret.
I love you, honey.
Dec
13
I guess I will need to start monitoring my daughter’s internet activity. She’s only 8 years old, for chrissakes, I’d hoped I could put it off for a few years, but I think she’s been visiting inappropriate sites: I think she’s been checking out Sculpy-snuff sites.
How else do you explain this story she wrote for a class assignment:
Once, I was walking in the woods when I heard a small noise. I turned. I saw a baby wolf. I took him home to my bedroom. He ate dog food and bits of meat. He liked playing fetch with an old frisbee. He grew a lot over the time I kept him. He ate more and more meat. He loved turkey. Then he ate my cat, and broke my dog’s leg…
What the hell?
Nov
21
A personal letter from Santa
Filed Under Interesting | Leave a Comment
Oh man, this is so cool - Send a letter from Santa to your child.
We’ve got an 8-year old that is pretty sure about Santa, but still wants to hold onto the fantasy, and a 5-year old that still believes in the magic. A personal letter, postmarked from the North Pole, Alaska, would be a great way to keep Santa around for a little longer.
Now, if I can only figure out a way to keep them young forever…
Nov
9
Only in FLA: Time to get Grandpa glasses, Duval county school workers a brain
Filed Under Jacksonville, Only in FLA | 1 Comment
Grandpa Picks Up Wrong Kid From School
My in-laws pick the kids up from various functions all the time. I can’t imagine this ever happening. Is this guy blond, or just so out of touch with his grandchildren that he doesn’t even know them?
Please Mom, get him to an eye doctor, then introduce him to his grandchildren.
But, the workers that released the wrong kid! The school district said they’re going to be disciplined. I hope that discipline involves firing and reporting them to the authorities for child endangerment. They were lucky the grandfather was “normal” and not some sex predator. LUCKY!
Nov
4
So, it’s been a few months, I think, since I wrote about church. Don’t worry this isn’t about religion. There is a difference, you know.
(Again, for those that don’t know my opinion on discussions of religion and God and whether he exists or not, allow me to tell you: It’s none of your business. I am not evangelical in any way, shape, manner or form. I don’t go to your blog and try to change your opinion, don’t try to change mine.)
So, I’m in church this morning, wrangling the young ‘uns because I take the kids by myself about 95% of the time because my wife works most Sunday mornings answering incoming sales calls for Home Shopping Network - yes, it’s a stay-at-home job and you can find out about it from her. Also, I’m pretty sure she’s a heathen.
Anyway, the youngest is 5, so it’s really like herding cats for an hour and a half. This particular priest normally tries really hard to inspire the flock, but often it comes across like he’s trying to inspire himself. In this case, the parish is in the midst of a capital campaign, which I think other churches would call “The Building Fund” so he was reading from a script because apparently $1.4M isn’t enough just yet.
Of course, I tune out. I made up my mind long ago to limit my support to just my weekly envelope. I’m in no position to help, and when I inquired at the church’s school when I moved here 18 months ago about need-based and merit-based scholarships, I was told there weren’t any, so I don’t see the point in supporting expanding a school that won’t accept my kids because I can’t pay the tuition and they have a waiting list.
Shut up, it’s perfectly logical to me.
Anyway, in the midst of my kid-wrangling, I’m brought back to the moment by this little nugget from the mouth of a Catholic priest:
“… because the Lord needs a new parish activity center with a gymnasium.”
Excusemewhat?
Really, Catholic guilt works much better. Let’s leave the concept that we know which worldly goods the Lord wants us to have to the Protestants down at the Church-of-What’s-Happening-Now.
Just tell me what I don’t deserve to have.
