Mom on the Run: Mom, need money now

Money (I can’t lie).”

That’s the subject of the email waiting for me when I get in to work. It’s from my daughter, of course, and I can’t help but smile when I see it. I have to admit, she’s set herself up for success, whatever she’s going to ask; I’m already feeling amused and indulgent, just from the no-holds­barred subject line.

It takes me a minute to get to the email — lots of work stuff came in overnight; I left early yesterday, and this is my punishment!— but finally I catch up and can address whatever this issue is.

I’m curious; my college student daugh­ter virtually never asks for money. She knows she’s responsible for her own spending, that we’ve got tuition and dorm and food, and the rest is up to her.

So she saves all summer, and works part­time, and that takes care of it. Or mostly, anyway. Apparently.

I open up the email: Ah, right, Alpha Phi Omega dues. I did pay for that last year — must have been feeling indulgent that day, too — and set the precedent.

And… this year? I ponder briefly. It’s a good organization. They do volunteer work in the community. It’s not a lot of money. It’s important to her. OK, I’ll pay that $45.

But there’s more, a second paragraph to the “Money” message: She wants me to buy her new volleyball jersey? “It will be an investment, since I won’t have to buy one again (unless I randomly gain a ton of weight and don’t fit it in my remaining 2.4 years here).” I have to laugh at that one. That’s pretty specific, 2.4 years, she obviously did some math!

And again, I’m feeling amused and indulgent. Dues and a vol­leyball jersey don’t seem like much to ask, and only $85 both together. My daughter has been self­sufficient at school, and picked up the cost of her books this past year when tuition went up and a chunk of the financial aid package turned out to be on-campus employment, with dollars earned going straight to her.

“If the financial aid goes to you, then you need to pay some of the costs,” my husband and I had said. She had agreed, and that arrangement seemed fair and sensible, a way for her to contribute to­wards her education in a meaningful but not quite painful way.

But every now and again she’ll reach out and ask for something. Last year it was “sponsorship” of a pricey, limited­ edition college sweatshirt, available only to volunteers for a specific project. There were the 2010-11 Alpha Phi Omega dues.

And when it turned out that her dorm suite didn’t come with a microwave as anticipated (but it did have a fridge, and a handy slot for a microwave in the kitch­en), Aunt Laurey ponied up for an early birthday and Christmas gift.

The requests have been infrequent and, I think, fair. And after all the thousands of dollars spent on volleyball equipment over the years, I think I will enjoy buying one more and perhaps final jersey.

So, “OK,” I type back. “I’ll send money for both.” I write myself a sticky note and slap it on my purse.

“Send,” I hit, and then I sit and smile.

“Money (I can’t lie).” Indeed! 

Wilkens lives with her family in Manassas. Reach her at liannewilkens@hotmail.com, or follow her on Twitter@MessengerMOTR.