My daughter Franny, who turns ten this month, has just started working as a Mother’s Helper one afternoon a week after school. She works for a SAHM who needs a couple hours of sanity. She folds laundry and sweeps. She plays with two-year-old Juniper, pushing her on the swing, dressing doll babies, having tea parties.
“I helped Juniper go to the bathroom,” Franny told me proudly. “I wiped her butt. Don’t worry, I washed my hands afterward.”
She must have noticed I was staring at her incredulously. But I wasn’t staring because of the butt-wiping admission. I was agog at the realization that my baby is now old enough to wipe someone else’s baby’s butt.
Franny makes $5 an hour. She works two hours a week, so by the end of one month, she’s earned forty bucks. Not bad for a girl who’s just turning ten.
Franny is a responsible, capable kid. She wakes herself up every morning for school, putting on the outfit she laid on her chair the night before. She does her homework, usually without reminders, and asks me to sign off on her assignment book. She feeds the cats, and if they need medicine, she dispenses it. If you send her a letter, she will send you a reply right back, on a handmade card with flowers and hearts and multiple exclamation marks.
So I knew, as she was approaching the double digits, that she could handle a Mother’s Helper job. I asked around the neighborhood until I found someone willing to take a shot on a not-quite-ten-year-old.
I want Franny to learn the importance of being financially independent now, while she’s still a kid. I’ve used the occasion of her new job to talk to her about how women need to learn to make their own money so they won’t have to rely on anyone else. I tell her that she will feel good about herself this way.
What I’m saying, between the lines, is: don’t make the same dumb mistake I did.
Don’t expect Prince Charming to swoop you up in his gleaming Lexus and whoosh you off to a life that unrolls like a red carpet before you, a life where you get to stay at home and care for your children in your beautiful house in a grand neighborhood, picking up some freelance work and catching some mid-morning yoga classes in your leisure time. Maybe that life will work out. Maybe it won’t. And if it doesn’t, where will you be?
I don’t know why my mother didn’t instill self-reliance in me. She was a child of the Depression and worked full-time her entire adult life as a music teacher. When she wasn’t working, she cleaned the house, made the meals, and paid the bills. My dad was out of work for a few years, and had it not been for my mom, we would have been sleeping in our station wagon.
Mom didn’t ask me to do much of anything. Again, I don’t know why. Maybe it was because I was adopted and she didn’t feel entitled to make a mother’s demands. Maybe it was because she was exhausted, and a bit of a control freak, and it was easier to do everything herself instead of insist that others pitch in. Maybe it was because I was an anxious child, so she didn’t think I was capable of taking care of myself.
Whatever the reason, I grew up to believe I needed someone else to take care of me. So I married a man whom I expected to soar to great heights in his chosen career. A man whom I expected to provide emotional and financial security, the way my brother-in-law did for my sister, the way many of my friends’ husbands did for them.
But that rosy-hued fantasy didn’t work out so well.
Had I been used to taking care of myself, I would have landed on my feet much faster than I did post-divorce. I would have experienced less stress that I undoubtedly passed on to my children as I went back to graduate school and started over in a new career.
I don’t want Franny to depend on a man to take care of her. I especially don’t want her to depend on her dad. Prince’s money comes with strings, and if she gets used to the dole-outs, she will find herself cinched so tightly that she won’t be able to breathe. She will be told where to live, who to marry, where to vacation, how to decorate her house. She will be denied the opportunity to grow up and feel a sense of accomplishment for what she can do on her own.
Franny can already do a lot on her own, besides babysitting. She is flying cross-country by herself this summer to visit my sister. When I asked her if she wanted me to come with her, she gave me a resounding “NO!”
I am profoundly grateful to watch her emerging self-agency, but sad to experience the gradual pulling-away that she needs to do in order to grow up.
Twice in the past month she has declined the bedtime story-reading and snuggle, our nightly ritual since she was an infant sitting on my lap in the rocking chair, then in her bed when she got old enough to sleep in one.
So it came as a luscious surprise last weekend, when Atticus was out of town on a business trip, and she put her hands on my waist, gazed up at me with big mooey eyes and a grin and asked: “Mom, can I sleep in your bed tonight?”
We crawled under the white duvet, just us girls. We settled our backs into the pillows, and watched Harry Potter on TV until Franny decided she’d had enough, then turned off the light and fell instantly asleep.
I stayed awake for awhile, listening to her soft breathing, gently stroking her long auburn hair. I didn’t want to go to sleep, because I knew this might be the last time we ever slept in the same bed together. So I drank in the moment as long as I could, a blanket of serenity wrapping around me as I imagined my girl growing up and away from me, into a woman who won’t make the same dumb mistake her mother did.
my husband asks me why i still let our 11-year-old in the bed on the rare occasion she asks…i tell him “because every time i wonder if it’s the last time she’s going to ask, and i don’t want to miss it!”
franny sounds like a cool kid who has a bright future :0)
I can’t believe how exactly like my life this sounds – well, aside from the Prince (I have yet to meet one of those). My mother did everything for me, and I floundered when I left home. I find myself doing that for my 9 year old and have to remind myself to let her do things. Unfortunately, she is definitely not as mature as your daughter. But I am trying and hoping to get her there and instill the independence my mother didn’t instill in me. Thank you for sharing your life. You are strong and capable and an inspiration to many!
That is so sweet. My daughter is only four, and sometimes, I think how little time I have before she starts pulling away (as she should and as she needs to).
Sounds like you have done very well so far!
Sweet, sweet post. And you know what? I imagine your daughter will “leave” you but also circle back round to you, again and again. The relationship that you’ve nurtured and hoped for will unfold –
My expensive waterproof mascara is coming in handy right now. This post struck a chord that left me misty. My 11-year-old daughter sitting next to me asked why it made me sad… My response surprised me as I heard my voice echo the words I had heard from my own mom hundreds of times: “When you grow up and have a baby you will understand.”
Those last couple of sentences made me cry. But she’s only 9. There will be more nights like that. You are doing her a great service in teaching her self-reliance. Loved this.
Such important life lessons for your daughter. I think we all want to share life lessons with our kids, especially daughters. Mine are a bit different for my daughter, based on my own life experience. Basically, in a subtle way, I’m teaching her that she could survive without me. My mom died when I was 19, after a very long illness. I barely made it, but I did. If something happened to my daughter, I want her to have an easier time than I did (if that is even possible). I’m teaching her to cook, do laundry, shop, think through problems and rely on friends for good advice.
These are critical lessons about changing times, self-reliance, and of course – making money.
We all make those dumb mistakes. Hopefully, with each generation, fewer of us will make them.
I treasure every moment that my boy still climbs onto the couch w/me for a snuggle
Thank you for reading, Amy!
Thanks, Kate.
Christina, I can’t imagine losing my mom at that young an age. But look how you’re able to turn such an enormous loss into a learning experience for your daughter.
You are so wise to instill these ideals in your daughter. Thank goodness you are able to own your mistakes and teach your daughter how to make better choices. My mom married an unkind control-freak of a guy (my dad) and all the kids had to suffer through it. She never taught me how to take care of myself though. She never pointed out what I should look for in a guy. Luckily, I figured it out on my own and ended up with a wonderful, kind, generous man. It wasn’t too difficult for me – I just chose someone who was the opposite of my dad! Good for you and good for your daughter.
So glad you figured it out on your own! Wish I had — in hindsight it all seems so clear.
First off, love your blog, long time reader. Franny sounds awesome (and far more responsible than most adults!)
I know it’s rude, but I’m curious, how old were you when you married? Based on your age and the age of your son I sort of figured you were a bit older (over 30) when you married, and that you’d had the experience of being on your own for awhile.
I was 31 — old enough to know better!!
LOVE THIS POST. Seriously. Tweeting it on!
Thank you!
Oh, how true this post rings for me! My parents didn’t teach me much, I married a successful guy and stayed home to “raise” our daughter, and when divorce hit, uh oh. I’m still figuring it out. One thing I know for sure, though, is that my daughter will have the skills and confidence necessary to make her own money and her own life.
My mom, who was a SAHM for 30 years, drilled this into me while growing up, as well. “Don’t be like me – be independent for a while before getting married. So you’ll know you can be self-sufficient.”
A few things about this:
A) It already happens naturally in my generation, and I only realized after the fact that I was doing it.
B) I’m not sure how well the drilling worked, as I am currently ecstatic to be a housewife.
C) it’s backfiring slightly for my mom, as delaying cohabitation & marriage ultimately delayed grandkids.
All that said, I do prefer knowing I stood on my own for years to how I imagine it must feel to look back and think you were just passed from father to husband.
This has me in tears. I love that she’s so capable and responsible. But those mommy/daughter moments? Are priceless. I’m off to have one now
And I love the design.
Thank you, and enjoy your moment!
Interesting!
My single mom raised me with the mantra, “I don’t want you to grow up and have to dream of marrying a doctor or a lawyer, I want you to be your own darn doctor or lawyer!” And so I became a lawyer and a firecely independent woman – who inherited much of my mother’s, “I can do it all myself” mentality. Like her, I married a man who goes along with “my ways,” and like her, I soon found myself lacking any modicum of respect for my spouse. Unlike her, I am still married (almost 12 years) and am trying to work through being the breadwinner and the decision-maker – which I want and don’t want. I am trying to work through all of this childhood mess.
I am raising my daughters to be independent but not to the exclusion of finding a partner who will take care of them. I want them to allow themselves to be taken care of. There’s a happy medium in there somewhere.
Great points, M.C. — it’s all about balance, isn’t it?
Your daughter is lucky to have you. What a great mom. What a great kid. Congrats to you!
Hi there,
Thanks for the insightful post. I think that we all go through times where we feel like we need to be taken care of. The problem with this kind of thinking is that it limits growth and doesn’t give you options should anything go wrong in a relationship. Being self-reliant also builds your self-esteem since you know that by taking care of yourself financially, you can also take care of yourself mentally and emotionally.
Alana
Pauline, this appeared on the front page of the DivorcedMoms page, and so I clicked on it right after reading and responding to your report about saying “no” to Franny and setting financial boundaries. I find it interesting how closely the two posts are linked, given how far apart they were written.
You wrote, “I grew up to believe I needed someone else to take care of me.” As you struggle to place boundaries for Franny, remember that sentence. When you say “no” to Franny, you are also saying, “It is okay if your every wish is not granted – you will not crumble and fall apart. I don’t mind saying “no” to you because I know that I offer you what you really need, not just your passing wants, and that you can handle it.” You are saying, “Franny, you’re a capable girl. If you really want the Doc Martens, you could buy them with your birthday money, or your money from being a mother’s helper.” She will feel powerful and self reliant if she does so, and that is a much bigger gift to her than just buying her stuff could ever be.
I’m learning and thinking as I read – thank you!