I Can鈥檛 Give My Children Everything My Parents Gave Me

Earlier this year, my husband and I moved our kids, ages 6 and 9, from private to public school. We were receiving financial assistance and probably could have afforded only one more year. My parents had sent me to private school for 13 years, but it became clear that my husband and I, given our household income, would not be able to do that for our children.

I鈥檓 hard on myself for not being able to give my children everything my parents gave me. And I鈥檓 not alone. Millennials are the .聽An analysis of Federal Reserve data by the advocacy group聽聽found that millennials, despite being better educated, earn 20 percent less than baby boomers did at the same stage in life, have half the net worth, and experience lower homeownership and higher student debt.

Many Gen Xers, like my husband and I, have found ourselves in this situation, too.

While I wasn鈥檛 spoiled as a kid, I didn鈥檛 want for much. My friends had bigger houses, nicer cars, and larger wardrobes, but I don鈥檛 remember being jealous or feeling deprived. I was grateful for what my family鈥檚 middle-class lifestyle afforded me, including amazing trips as part of my father鈥檚 job. I was encouraged to attend any college I wanted.

I don鈥檛 know what we鈥檒l be able to contribute to our kids鈥� college expenses. We certainly don鈥檛 have the means to expose them to the kind of travel I did when I was their age. We can鈥檛 afford to be a single-income family, so there are also nonmaterial things we can鈥檛 do.

I miss most soccer games when I鈥檓 at work. Our kids are at school from 7:30 a.m. until 5:00 p.m. most days because we鈥檙e not available to pick them up when school lets out. While I grew up in walking distance from both sets of grandparents鈥攚ho watched me when my parents couldn鈥檛鈥攎y kids are an unaffordable plane ride or a half-day drive from all their relatives.

I spend a lot of time thinking about what they鈥檙e missing.

A few months before my husband and I got married, my father asked me how we were going to support a family. He wasn鈥檛 trying to make me feel bad; he said he was only asking because he thought he was supposed to.

鈥淚t won鈥檛 look like how you raised me,鈥� I said. 鈥淏ut we鈥檒l be OK.鈥�

At the time, my husband was starting graduate school, and I was working at a nonprofit in New York City. We could barely afford our apartment, but we were relatively young, and kids were a long way off.

It was earth-shattering to realize my childhood was something even my parents couldn鈥檛 actually afford.

Maybe because my dad was just looking to check a box, or maybe because he knew nothing would change my mind about my husband or my career, he let the subject drop.

I have no idea what it cost to give me the upbringing I looked back on so fondly. I didn鈥檛 know to what extent I had been on financial aid at my private school. I had no idea what, if anything, my grandparents had contributed to our daily expenses. And I didn鈥檛 know that my father had been involved in identity theft, using other people鈥檚 credit to augment his college administrator salary and feed his gambling addiction.

Years later, it was earth-shattering to realize my childhood was something even my parents couldn鈥檛 actually afford. While my dad鈥檚 criminal activities make my experience an extreme example of setting unrealistic expectations, I know from past jobs in the private school financial aid field that many people go into credit card debt and take second or third mortgages to chase lavish lifestyles鈥攄ebt they hide from their families.

Today, because my kids鈥� childhood isn鈥檛 as shiny as mine was, it feels like we鈥檙e just scraping by. But I know we still have more than most. Besides our mortgage, we have no debt. This is mostly an accident of sheer luck and the fact that our parents paid for our undergraduate degrees. In months when both our cars need work and our expenses exceed our income, we can pull from savings we put aside before we had kids. Occasionally my father-in-law helps us out. I鈥檓 all too aware that many people don鈥檛 have these options, but I still feel like I鈥檓 letting my kids down.

I鈥檓 comforted by the fact that they might not see it that way.

My older child was 5 when she told me a girl at her private school claimed to be 鈥渞ich.鈥� I asked my daughter what 鈥渞ich鈥� meant, and she said that the girl鈥檚 family probably had a lot of money. Surprised to be having this conversation with my kindergartner, I encouraged her not to talk about money at school.

鈥淧eople鈥檚 feelings could get hurt,鈥� I said.

鈥淏ecause people who have all the money will feel bad that other people don鈥檛?鈥� she asked.

Just because my kids鈥� childhood doesn鈥檛 look like mine did, it doesn鈥檛 mean it鈥檚 bad.

I was taken aback by her response, grateful she thought such a thing, but sad her worldview was so far from my lived experience. Complicating the whole conversation was the fact that I knew the girl she was talking about鈥攈er family was receiving financial aid, just like we were. Was the girl claiming to be rich to make up for what she didn鈥檛 have, was she unaware of her family鈥檚 circumstances, or did she truly feel rich? So often, our perceptions of our kids鈥� lives are not the same as theirs.

My family has a smaller house than the one I was raised in, but my husband and I give our kids many things we never got. We take them to rallies, canvass for candidates, and discuss racism, sexism, and oppression. We aren鈥檛 perfect parents, but without the option of throwing money at our problems, we鈥檝e had to be creative, and so have our kids.

Last month on Halloween, I realized we hadn鈥檛 gotten around to carving our pumpkins or roasting the seeds like my mom did when I was a kid. I was silently berating myself for not making the time for this moment of ready-made nostalgia when my 9-year-old came outside, a marker in her hand.

鈥淲hat are you doing?鈥� I asked.

鈥淲e didn鈥檛 carve the pumpkins, so I thought I鈥檇 draw some faces.鈥�

Of course she did. Because she鈥檚 not comparing her childhood to mine, she鈥檚 just living her life. It doesn鈥檛 mean she doesn鈥檛 want the Barbie airplane that wouldn鈥檛 fit in her room, even if we could afford it. But it does mean we鈥檝e talked to her about the difference between wants and needs, and why we make the decisions we do.

I鈥檓 not advocating for ignoring kids鈥� needs so they figure out how to take care of themselves. I am saying that just because my kids鈥� childhood doesn鈥檛 look like mine did, it doesn鈥檛 mean it鈥檚 bad. Parents raising families on tighter budgets than they were raised on can choose to reset their expectations and look harder for silver linings. That鈥檚 what I鈥檝e had to do.

By rejecting my parents鈥� measures of success鈥攅ven if the decision was spurred by necessity鈥擨鈥檓 trying to give my kids more reasonable, meaningful goals. As adults, if they chose to parent, they may want to replicate their childhood or forge their own path. I hope they鈥檒l find peace on their journey.