It’s not silly at all
The satisfaction of paying my bills
I remember sitting down with my Mom at the formal dining room table. Usually after my brothers had gone off to bed, her teaching me the importance of paying bills and prioritizing.
She would open all the envelopes and stack everything by necessity and due dates.
She wrote everything down on a legal pad. Then would turn on her adding machine and start tapping away. She would crunch the numbers, and take to scribbling notes on the legal pad again and then with a swift hand, since this was long before she nearly crippled her hand, she’d furiously start writing out checks and put them with paperclips on the bills, stopping in between to jot more notes. Then settling in and striking away at the adding machine. She’d run the numbers twice, sometimes a third time, then she’d balance her checkbook.
I would roll my eyes, knowing she kept all the joy of using the adding machine to herself, only later when I was a year or so older would she let me take over this duty, one I relished quite a bit. I was too slow at first, maybe because I just shy of seven or eight, and I would have to start over as she called things out to me.
There was always a seriousness about her as she put all her focus into completing this religious mundane task. I knew the ritual alone meant this was important.
I loved to sit and watch her, my legs swinging as I fidgeted in my chair. But still sitting politely with my hands crossed in my lap. I would always slouch a little on the edge of the table and she’d correct me, “Sit up straight like a lady, please”
As I got older, I often knew when things were tighter in the purse, by how deep her brow furrowed and how she’d twist her mouth to suck the side of her teeth, momentarily distorting her always beautiful face and polished appearance.
I remember the smell of the paperwork in neat piles organized on the dinner table. The table my brothers and I sat and wrote “I will not ____” a thousand times on loose leaf paper when we were in trouble(no, my parents did not spare the rod, this was just a bonus), or where we’d do our homework for hours in the evenings. The same table my parents insisted we gather as a family often and have meals together, and they taught us to eat properly and have good manners and conversation about current events and discussions about the world around us.
My parents taught us to value hard work and also be a part of a family and community where everyone contributed. This was not lost on me.
I understand the certain look of fulfillment she had had at times when the bills were all done and she would ask me to gather everything up and tell me where to put it all neatly away. She’d say, “You have to stay organized” and my parents are so well organized they could be serial killers.
While my childhood may have been more “charmed” than others, my parents were adamant in teaching my four brothers and I about hard work ethics and the value of those charms. They insisted on each of us getting jobs very early on and wanted us to understand anything worth having was working toward. Make no mistake we lived in beautiful middle class neighborhoods and took vacations and wore nice clothes and always ate very well.
As an adult I wish I could say my life choices allowed me to continue on that “charmed” path.
The satisfaction of being able to pay all the bills, was something that seemed out of reach for more than a dozen years. Always robbing Peter to pay Paul, I’d let one or two bills slip by and pay them next time, rotating between necessities. I made it work, and at times even with three jobs would fall short. I’d make concessions and find somewhere else to pinch or moonlight for a few extra dollars cleaning houses or reorganizing a legal filing system for a family friend. I would hustle. But the struggle to get ahead won’t be soon forgotten. I’m not bad with money, I just fell behind as a single mom of three with very little help. I busted my ass and I didn’t give up. I gave a lot of effort and time and a whole lot of love to make up for the things money couldn’t buy.
I’ve come a long way and it wasn’t without constant challenges. But looking back, I know the life lessons I learned not just from being taught but from observing that this wasn’t just a lesson, it was an important part of our understanding it was necessary for us to be successful in our lives. Steady the path, work hard and be grateful. I had healthy support and love in ways my parents may not have known they gifted to me in my youth.
Finally within the last year or so being able to push ahead, save some money, take on a car payment and actually take a vacation for the first time in a while. I did that. Me. Some months were harder than others and I’d have to push through with only a few bucks in my pocket until the next payday, but here I am celebrating the little victories.
The road has been long and I know there’s miles to go. I know better than to think things couldn’t fall behind or worse, but I am trying to plan ahead in the hopes that they won’t. Staying sharp and remaining vigilant with my budget.
Life’s funny. And always subject to change on a whim. I hate to coin a million phrases, (I’ll save that for my Mom) but I am better to count my blessings while I can and send out the gratitude and positivity back into the universe.
