Poor is a dirty word

When I was growing up, my parents always got hung up on money.  I remember not being able to afford anything and the FACT that this somehow made us lesser, like we had to hide in the shadows.  Truthfully, we weren't poor.  Our guardians liked to have "fun" and not the Cleaver family kind, more like the Fear and Loathing version.  Once I snorted a pixy stick up my nose and the only reason I can conjure for such painful behavior is example. I mean, surely powder is powder, right?

The point is, I remember being ashamed when the teacher sent the class out to get soda from the machine and I was the only one who stayed in their seat.  Every now and then she even felt sorry enough to spot me the money.  Jealousy was taught like some people ingrain manners.  I still struggle with it.

I don't want my kids to come up with this kind of growth ring.  I try to do fun things like go to the park but all I can think is that I'd like to take them to the pool which, of course, costs a little more than I have to spare.  I try not to let them hear my worries or mold them into my envy but sometimes my frustration shows through and I am harsher with them than need be for no reason that they know.

Then, there is guilt because marks are left in their minds.  Mommy is too often out of sorts, too often inside in pajamas.  Somehow, I have not broken the worthlessness in being broke.  Once, I took this spiritual giftings quiz and poverty was number one but it feels more curse-like at times. 

I quit a good job to raise my kids but there is more at stake if I fail now.  Their habits, health, education, spiritual leanings are all on my shoulders and every time I pay for groceries with food stamps I can hear all the ultraconservatives chiding me for my decision to leave a government gig.  I mean, even when I was talking about having kids, all anybody would say about the number we were shooting for was, "if you have the money". We don't. 

The most haunting thing is I think I may be teaching my kids that poor is a dirty word.  I may be showing them that it's acceptable to lose your temper or plummet into depression if you don't have the money you'd like.  I am definitely doing my husband a disservice by pushing him too hard, by demanding more than he can provide.

I try to think of third world mothers with dirt floors and one meal a day.  I envision muddy creek banks used for bathing and washing or war torn fear of missile sirens.  I try to remember all the women who say their only regret was not quiting work for their kids.  But right now all I can cling to is the fact that my babies are still babies and no irreparable damage has been done, yet.  There's still time for me to change and with God's help and the willpower He put in me, I can stop sowing these seeds in my family.