Magic Math - A True Story of Parenting

Magic Math

Several of my friends admit they are poor at math and often turn to me for help. Without a calculator, I can easily divvy up the dinner tab between five girlfriends, calculate a tip for anything from fair to exceptional service and determine the final price of a garment that is 25% off with an additional 10% loyalty coupon.

In college I studied engineering and took more than my fair share of math and calculus. And because I probably should have been a business major, I took economics and business classes as electives and actually enjoyed them. So by most people’s standards, I’m above average at math.

Despite this, I am stumped by the arithmetic my children have employed over the years to calculate their idea of a fair allowance, determine how much I owe them and rationalize how little they owe me. It’s actually mind boggling sometimes and beyond the scope of anything I’ve experienced in the outside world.

So here is today's big mystery.  Neither of my kids has a job right now and we supply them with 95% of their funds, yet I often find that I owe them money. Weird, right?

My son is also currently without a car (because of an unfortunate collision with a telephone pole in an ice storm) and had to forgo his “lucrative” pizza delivery job. He is now forced to live on an allowance and a meal plan at school. So, in addition to paying the tuition, housing, meal plan and books, we give our son a modest allowance each week for “incidentals”. His translation: beer money. So every month we get calls asking us to reimburse him for a haircut, replacement apartment keys, NyQuil, or the latest NetFlix trial (“Mom, you’ll actually be saving money in the long run”.)

Like the federal government, he considers most things “off budget” and the conversation goes something like this: “I got a haircut out of my own money today so you owe me $20.”


“Son, since we gave you the money to get the haircut we don’t owe you a dime.”

“WHAT?!!! I have to pay for my own haircut now? I thought you wanted me to look nice at college.”

“No, you are mistaken. If I can’t see you I don’t care how you look.”

Several years ago my husband and I decided to let our son take the bus home from college for his winter break. We were worn out from driving back and forth through the mountains to his college outside of Pittsburgh and wanted him to appreciate our efforts. “This is ridiculous.” he said, “I’m going to be on the bus for over 9 hours!”

I pointed out to him that his father and I spent at least that long in the car when we pick him up and drive him home. “You are supposed to sit for a long time in the car; you are the parents.”

See what I mean about the weird math? It’s a little like the “dog years” concept. Apparently one hour of commuting to him is the equivalent to at least two hours for us.

Despite the logic, we still felt it was necessary for him to ride the bus. And although we transferred money into his bank account to cover the bus trip, he lost his wallet with his driver’s license, debit card and university identification card inside. My son realizing we were unable to help him out of this dilemma, showed some real practical smarts by selling the textbooks we bought him at the beginning of the semester to fund his way home. I was proud of my son until he asked us to reimburse him for the bus ride and snacks and pay the $20 student card replacement fee.

Normally, he explained, he would have sold the books and pocketed the money. So although we already gave him the money for the bus ticket and paid for the textbooks he sold, my son felt a refund was in order. Not surprisingly, he is still lamenting the fact that we made him pay his own way home from college to celebrate Christmas.

We have not been irresponsible with our money. Both kids have always had jobs and chores. Yet their money doesn’t last long. Despite our best efforts, they still have a hard time distinguishing between a “need” and a “want”.

The needs of my kids today sound so foreign to the needs I had as a child. Their allowance and pay don’t go far enough because they need iPhones, Chi flat irons, Polo shirts, Burberry cologne and Sperry loafers. I remember wanting a longer cord on the one phone in the house so that there was at least a modicum of privacy. If I wore perfume, it was Love’s Baby Soft which could be purchased at Ames or any general store. Levi jeans were out of reach for a family with six kids; I had only a few of the off brand, super stiff jeans my mother bought at Sears.

“You have wants,” I tell them. “Needs” can be satisfied at Wal-Mart; “wants” require the mall.

My niece is 27 years old living in Washington, DC on the meager salary of a congressional staffer. She watches carefully every dollar she spends yet she always looks stylish and well coiffed. Her hair is long and curly, like my daughter’s. I asked her what products she uses and she said something very profound. “I used to think I needed expensive hair products but now that I have to pay for my own apartment and car, I’ve discovered that the Suave one dollar shampoos work just fine.” There is hope. My kids will be living on their own someday not that far away. Magic math will go away with their independence and my frugality will probably be replaced with loneliness and expensive care packages.