I had a wonderful childhood, filled with laughter and adventure. I grew up in a neighborhood bustling with kids and spent countless hours playing outside. Sleepovers were a regular occurrence, and I joined a cheerleading team at a young age, cheering through my teenage years. I even made it onto a competitive squad that traveled to San Francisco for national championships. Karate was another passion of mine, and I had the opportunity to compete in the Junior Olympics.
Most of my clothes came from my cousins, hand-me-downs that I cherished. We enjoyed lovely vacations in my grandparents’ motorhome, making the long drive from Florida to North Carolina, where we camped in beautiful spots and hiked daily. My sister and I spent hours building rock dams in the refreshing creeks. Those trips remain some of my fondest memories.
Our fridge was always stocked, and I had memorable birthday celebrations. I remember a few Christmases when my mom would gently prepare us, saying there wouldn’t be many gifts this year. “Things are tight,” she’d say, but we would still hold onto hope. Those Christmases were indeed modest, with a sparse display under the tree that made my young heart feel both disappointed and guilty. My mom recalls how I would slowly open presents, stretching out the excitement.
I can also recall a sleepover at a friend’s house when I hesitated to ask if I could flush the toilet. My friend looked at me as if I were crazy. To her, flushing was the point of having a toilet. But our septic system had issues, and we had to be careful about it. We kept the bathroom door closed to contain any unpleasant odors.
At home, my sister and I were responsible for answering phone calls, especially when bill collectors rang. I thought these calls were just a part of life, like paying taxes. I assumed everyone dealt with these relentless “bill collectors.”
I remember the teasing I faced at the bus stop for wearing those cherished hand-me-downs. Though they were slightly faded and might not have fit perfectly, I loved them. I thought the kids mocking me simply didn’t understand fashion. It didn’t even cross my mind to feel bad about it.
As I turned sixteen, I daydreamed about the possibility of a birthday surprise—a car like some of my friends received. I imagined waking up to a shiny vehicle with a big bow on it. Instead, my parents firmly told me that we would shop for an affordable car together. I ended up with a used dark blue 1987 Ford Escort, complete with a rust hole that my friends joked was for aerodynamics. My mom helped with the insurance, while I took care of the gas with my part-time job. I adored that little car and was simply grateful that it worked.
As I prepared for college, I accidentally stumbled upon one of my parents’ credit card bills. The balance was shockingly high—much more than I could grasp as a teenager. While I had my necessary transportation, my parents were struggling to keep up with their credit card payments. My mom always prioritized my sister and me, ensuring we had things we wanted, even as the family finances slipped away.
My sister and I often reminisce about our trips to Walmart with mom. She would fill the cart with essentials, sometimes adding a small treat for us. But at the cashier, she would routinely remove items meant for herself, saying, “Maybe next time.” We never understood back then that she was ensuring we got what we needed first.
Now as an adult, I realize how my mother sacrificed to keep our family afloat, especially during the unpredictable swings of the Florida housing market, where my dad worked in construction. His sporadic employment meant my mom had to be the steady income provider. I remember the many times we got denied for loans for home renovations, believing it was just part of the process.
Looking back, I see how she juggled finances to ensure we had everything—activities, food, and fun experiences. While we may not have had designer clothes or extravagant vacations, we lived well and had a joyful childhood. I owe a tremendous amount to my mom for making sure my upbringing was rich in love and happiness.
In summary, my childhood was filled with cherished memories, despite financial struggles. My mother’s unwavering dedication ensured that my sister and I had what we needed, allowing us to enjoy life to the fullest.