Lynn's Comments: Balancing my checkbook was and still is one of my least favorite things to do. My daughter will chase down a discrepancy to the penny. I'm happy if my cheques don't bounce. When I worked for my dad in the jewelry store, I was fine with clients, cleaning and window displays, but I was kept away from the till. My guess is- that even with today's electronic calculators I would still find ways to make mistakes!
Lynn's Comments: For many years, my dear father in law looked after our book keeping. He was thorough and dedicated and would have given me a hand with my finances...I just never asked him to- preferring to say "close enough" when I had to come up with a balance!
Lynn's Comments: In fact, my system, such as it was, worked for me. I was always in the black because I kept a slush fund- ready to transfer into my wavering account whenever it was getting close to the line. The encouraging thing about my method of keeping track of my accounts is- I know I'm far from being the only hit and Mrs. Style of manager!
Lynn's Comments: The subject of money was not so sensitive to me as it was to a friend who felt she had to ask for handouts. I had a full time job, but she "earned" her income by working at home and the amount she spent was severely regulated by her husband who "gifted" her with clothing allowances and money for incidentals. I used her situation from time to time when money was an issue and Elly Patterson felt guilty for not "working".
Lynn's Comments: There were times when I actually sat down and tried to figure out what I actually accomplished during the day. With so many demands on a Mom's time, it was hard to account for the hours. I looked forward to evenings when the kids were in bed, so I could work. I looked forward to holidays and weekends, so I could work. Doing a daily comic strip took an amazing amount of time and I needed to be alone when I was writing. I could draw with life going on around me, but the kids soon learned to ask for cookies and ice cream. When I wasn't able to concentrate. I usually said "yes"! Isn't it strange that we call an actual paying job "work" and don't consider raising children hard work as well. I confess, being a good mom is one of the most challenging JOBS on the planet!!
Lynn's Comments: Like my mother, I was not a fan of chewing gum. The look, sound and storage of chewed but cherished chunks drove a wedge between me and my offspring, who had learned about the sugarless variety from television and had been given a stash by the child-free staff at the dental clinic. They chewed in secrecy, but still the occasional wad found its way into my arena and often with irremovable results.
Lynn's Comments: In our house, it was of utmost importance to maintain good table manners. My mother went so far as to give us eating lessons. My brother and I learned to sit straight with a yardstick down our backs and a "Golden Book" under each arm. We learned how to use our fork and knife in the English style, cutting with wrists up, dabbing the edibles onto the back of the fork. (Rarely should one "stab" at one's food.) We were never to talk with our mouths full; never to reveal the mastication going on inside. Eating was often an ordeal. The benefits of the lessons, however, came to the fore at summer camp when we were the only kids who could eat comfortably while crushed onto a wooden bench with a line of other campers. If mom saw us chewing with our mouths open, there was instant objection. This, of course made it mandatory that we eat as rudely as possible when the moment was ripe. This strip was done in memory of these unfettered times.
Lynn's Comments: I was once married to a guy who spent so much time on the couch watching televised sports, I suggested we give away the couch, screw legs on him and use HIM as furniture.
Lynn's Comments: I could never enjoy sports on TV, but take me to a game- any game and I could find something good about it. People-watching was better than the sport itself and I don't think anything tastes better than a hot dog at a stadium. I'd go to spend quality time with my "other half", pretend to understand what was happening and look forward to half time. Did you know that the pixellated scoreboard was first invented by a woman? Well, you've gotta do SOMETHING while you're hanging around!!
Lynn's Comments: On rare occasions we would invite "the guys" over to watch the game. This was when smoking was as necessary to an evening out as the horse de oeuvres. I'd dutifully bring in the beer and pizza, watch long enough to appear enthused, and retire to the kitchen. Not that I was a domestic...I just couldn't stand the smell. Cigarettes, cigars, beer and pizza...all essential to a guy night out combined to create an odor that could peel wallpaper. Fortunately, today's gatherings are much less stressful. They happen somewhere else!
Lynn's Comments: As a kid, I thought being grown up would be the best thing ever. I thought about the freedom I'd have ... and now that I've experienced many years of freedom... I wonder why I didn't enjoy more those years when somebody ELSE did all the work and all the worrying!
Lynn's Comments: Kitchens are often designed by people who never cook. Our place up north was one of these and the lack of useful cupboard space resulted in the occasional avalanche. We had a wall oven and the cupboards next to this had to contain stuff that wouldn't melt, shrivel or dry out. Imagine the fun we had separating a wad of emergency candles that had been stored in this heated hollow. Yes, a well designed kitchen is a necessity! And I didn't get one 'til my kids were grown and gone!
Lynn's Comments: This scenario took place word for word as I was grocery shopping with my son. I was a single mom on a very tight budget and if I went over $20.00 a week for the 2 of us, I wouldn't be able to pay my mortgage, (which was $150.00 a month at the time.) An older gentleman heard me comparing prices to those of my childhood and reminded me that times had changed for him, too. Here I am, now at the age of 63 likely the same age he was...and prices have gone beyond what any of us could have imagined. Strange then, to think that we likely waste more food now than any other generation in history.
Lynn's Comments: My husband grew up enjoying warm back rubs as he went to sleep. When, for some reason, his mom could not, he would bribe his sister to rub his back and so it went. When we were first married, I continued the practice...but then...as life became more stressful the bedtime back rub disappeared. This was not a good thing. I was reminded from time to time that something was missing- and it was. My advice, then to other newly connected and consenting adults is: If you can't keep something up forever and ever and ever........don't start in the first place.
Lynn's Comments: Back to school always meant "back to bed" as the kids bumbled home with everything from flu to pink eye. Mine had to be certifiably sick before I'd let them skip school...none of the "thermometer under the hot water bottle" stuff... I wanted proof. Proof of a certified illness usually came in the form of a shared experience, as we all came down with whatever was going 'round. "The family that's sick together sticks together" and we did...under quarantine.
Lynn's Comments: I don't know what passes for the average allowance now. A buck a week was fine when Kate and Aaron were kids- they seemed to make do. As I recall, however, no matter what the folks decide to bestow.....it's never, ever enough!
Lynn's Comments: Negotiating for added income with my dad always involved chores. He rarely gave us extra for breathing...there was always a lecture about earning; about effort and reward. My brother and I sighed, rolled our eyes and thought he was mean for denying us a free ride. We grumbled through the assigned chores, watched the clock and thought of Cinderella and other storybook orphans forced to work under the cruel gaze of a merciless supervisor. When we finally received the money, however, there was a real sense of accomplishment in having EARNED it. Perhaps that's one of the reasons we have both been hard and reliable workers.
Lynn's Comments: More than once I said this to my parents. My mom was especially miffed because if she'd had a choice in the matter, she'd have definitely raised someone other than me. It was a subject I often pondered as I looked at the ceiling in my room wondering how I got to be where I was, in this form at this time in history. I remember thinking about other parents and if I could change mine for someone else's- who would I choose. After examining the families of friends, I almost always came back to the parents I had....even though they frustrated me no end with curfews, rules and restrictions.