By: Marissa Greene
Updated: Dec. 8, 2020
Originally Published: Feb. 28, 2018
“Mommy, can we grab a bite at McDonald’s?”
In that moment, I frantically assess my bank account for the price of a few fries, drinks, and an ice cream cone. I quickly check the McDonald’s app for any available coupons. Finances are tight this week, and unfortunately, I just can’t spare the seven bucks.
“Sorry sweetie, not tonight. Mommy can’t swing McDonald’s right now. We’ll go next week, okay?”
It pierces my heart knowing I can’t afford a simple treat for him, but that’s the stark reality of raising a child while barely making ends meet. I manage to scrape together a few dollars for an after-school snack, even though most of our meals are cooked at home. I consider myself fortunate that my flexible work schedule allows me to prepare meals, a luxury not all low-income families can afford.
As a single parent, financial concerns loom large in my everyday life. My primary focus is on ensuring we have a safe place to live, which consumes the majority of my income. I strive to keep our expenses minimal; we seldom eat out, and I’m grateful to qualify for SNAP benefits, which help cover our grocery costs. Although internet and streaming services may seem like luxuries, they’re essential for my job as I need to stay updated on current events. Thankfully, my parents generously cover my phone bill since we’re on a family plan.
My son’s father contributes when he can, but being a freelancer himself means funds are often scarce for him as well.
What’s remarkable is that my son seems blissfully unaware of our financial struggles. Sure, we may not frequent fast food places or use rideshare services, but I work tirelessly to provide him with as normal a childhood as possible. A significant portion of my wardrobe is older than he is, yet he remains one of the most fashionable kids in preschool. I postpone haircuts for myself until my friend can do it for free, while ensuring he has stylish haircuts at a children’s salon. He’s oblivious to the fact that I buy nearly everything on sale. Having grown up in a similar situation, I’m committed to making the sacrifices my parents made for me. Although this weighs heavily on my emotions at times, I do what I must to ensure our survival.
I am fortunate to have a robust support network; without them, I wouldn’t manage. My parents graciously allowed us to live with them for three years while I built my career. My mom surprises my son with little gifts in the mail, which he adores. Friends often come over for visits, or they invite us for meals, ensuring my son feels cherished and included.
Last Christmas, I faced a particularly tough financial situation and couldn’t afford any gifts for my child. In a heartwarming gesture, my wonderful coworkers, who are also close friends, pooled their resources to provide us with an Amazon gift card for him to choose presents, and I could indulge myself a little too.
However, as my son matures, the challenges compound. His interests expand, and I grapple with the reality that we may not be able to enroll him in baseball, soccer, or dance classes, despite his talent and intelligence. We dream of signing him up for language immersion classes, but those come with hefty price tags.
Currently, I work from home since he only attends preschool part-time. We were fortunate to discover the Head Start program, which accepts him for a few hours, given that private preschool can reach $800 a month. I’d prefer to spend that time engaging with him in reading and play.
It’s disheartening to see friends enjoying family vacations or not worrying about every single penny in their wallets. All I wish for is to have more than a dollar left in my savings account after paying rent each month.
Yet, I realize that none of this truly matters to him. At four years old, as long as he has his fruit snacks, a few toy trains, and me, he’s content. Still, I long for the days when we could enjoy simple outings, like visiting McDonald’s, even though the bustling PlayPlace often overwhelms me. It’s about being an engaged parent, but I sometimes dream of whisking him away for a fun-filled day at an amusement park without the burden of saving for an entire year.
I believe that when he looks back on his childhood, it won’t be the material possessions he recalls, but rather the special moments we shared or the routine of having dinner together every night. That hope fuels my determination each day.
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