"Never will I have enough to take my family on vacation." "I can't afford to buy organic food."
"Never will I save enough for a down payment on a house." "I don't make enough money."
"Never will I be able to buy a car without a loan." "I could never pay that much for shoes."
Pretty sure all of the above is absolute baloney. Silly excuses. I can back myself up on that because I pretty much do all of those things earning much less than everyone else. I am single. I have two kids, a dog, two cats. I made $20k last year working 25 hours a week average. I buy nice shoes. I own my home and car outright. I swing by my local cafe on occasion to subdue an afternoon craving. We take vacations. I have no debt. This is not me bragging, it means we all start somewhere taking lots of small steps. Which is what I want to teach all of my friends to do.
My first memories of money offer insight into how I manage it as an adult. I had this orange wicker basket shaped like a pumpkin about the size of a soccer ball. It even had a cover that fit perfectly on top with a painted green stem and little curly vines that hid what was inside. That thing was packed full of coins, and each time I picked it up I feared it would break. My dad used to toss in the leftovers from his pocket, which became my first stash.
I have silly fond memories of shutting myself in my room, dragging that thing to the middle of the floor and tipping it over so that the change spilled out in a rush of sparkle and delight. The tangy metallic smell made me smile. I would scoop it up in greedy handfuls to watch it slip between my fingers, and hear it musically clink to the floor. Sometimes I would run my palm across the heap, smoothing it flat to see how big an area of the floor it would cover. I made patterns and piles, counting each stack, and on occasion ran across the hall to the sink so I could try to scrub a dirty penny clean. This was one of my favorite ways to spend an afternoon as a 7 year old.
As far as I can remember, I never thought to spend it. I loved having it tucked away in my room where I could keep an eye on it. It was my vessel of possibility, my treasure pumpkin. It really helps to have a special place to keep your cash. My dad used to hide his in the back of the freezer. He has a great name for it- cold cash. My friends used to think that was hilarious, I thought it was pretty neat. So when I got a place of my own, the freezer became my piggybank. My friends still thought that was hilarious, and I still thought it was neat... but none of them had a lump of savings like I did.
About 6 years ago I had a bum tooth. It was a wisdom tooth that was falling apart in my mouth. It hurt so bad I wanted to pull it out myself. I was just getting on my feet after a divorce, and finances were tight. My cold cash barely covered rent. The only dentist I could find to pull my tooth without charging a fortune was in RI where my family lives. I made an appointment on the weekend of my birthday. It was short and sweet and slightly gross, but I got out of there only paying $125 for the procedure . Life was good again and I headed back to my grandparents place for a little birthday chill and grill. After our meal, my Gram handed me a white envelope with "From the Tooth Fairy" written in her shaky scrawl across the front. Huh? Then I opened it and pulled out the bounty inside. Right. She gifted me the cash that covered the tooth. The whole family got a chuckle.
That envelope became my new treasure chest. It has spent years in the back of the freezer, years at the bottom of underwear drawers, or tucked between mattresses. I had to clear tape the whole thing- inside and out- because it started to disintegrate. Now that my sweet Gram has been gone for a few years, it is a treasure with or without my weekly earnings hidden inside.
Find yourself a treasure chest. Make it something special. Then start filling it with treasure. Touch it, count it, smell it, love it. Give your money the respect it deserves. I guarantee you might start holding onto it a little longer. xoxo
My first memories of money offer insight into how I manage it as an adult. I had this orange wicker basket shaped like a pumpkin about the size of a soccer ball. It even had a cover that fit perfectly on top with a painted green stem and little curly vines that hid what was inside. That thing was packed full of coins, and each time I picked it up I feared it would break. My dad used to toss in the leftovers from his pocket, which became my first stash.
I have silly fond memories of shutting myself in my room, dragging that thing to the middle of the floor and tipping it over so that the change spilled out in a rush of sparkle and delight. The tangy metallic smell made me smile. I would scoop it up in greedy handfuls to watch it slip between my fingers, and hear it musically clink to the floor. Sometimes I would run my palm across the heap, smoothing it flat to see how big an area of the floor it would cover. I made patterns and piles, counting each stack, and on occasion ran across the hall to the sink so I could try to scrub a dirty penny clean. This was one of my favorite ways to spend an afternoon as a 7 year old.
As far as I can remember, I never thought to spend it. I loved having it tucked away in my room where I could keep an eye on it. It was my vessel of possibility, my treasure pumpkin. It really helps to have a special place to keep your cash. My dad used to hide his in the back of the freezer. He has a great name for it- cold cash. My friends used to think that was hilarious, I thought it was pretty neat. So when I got a place of my own, the freezer became my piggybank. My friends still thought that was hilarious, and I still thought it was neat... but none of them had a lump of savings like I did.
About 6 years ago I had a bum tooth. It was a wisdom tooth that was falling apart in my mouth. It hurt so bad I wanted to pull it out myself. I was just getting on my feet after a divorce, and finances were tight. My cold cash barely covered rent. The only dentist I could find to pull my tooth without charging a fortune was in RI where my family lives. I made an appointment on the weekend of my birthday. It was short and sweet and slightly gross, but I got out of there only paying $125 for the procedure . Life was good again and I headed back to my grandparents place for a little birthday chill and grill. After our meal, my Gram handed me a white envelope with "From the Tooth Fairy" written in her shaky scrawl across the front. Huh? Then I opened it and pulled out the bounty inside. Right. She gifted me the cash that covered the tooth. The whole family got a chuckle.
That envelope became my new treasure chest. It has spent years in the back of the freezer, years at the bottom of underwear drawers, or tucked between mattresses. I had to clear tape the whole thing- inside and out- because it started to disintegrate. Now that my sweet Gram has been gone for a few years, it is a treasure with or without my weekly earnings hidden inside.
Find yourself a treasure chest. Make it something special. Then start filling it with treasure. Touch it, count it, smell it, love it. Give your money the respect it deserves. I guarantee you might start holding onto it a little longer. xoxo
