One day we went out for lunch on a weekend with Mom. We went to The Blue Goose on Lower Greenville. I can’t remember where she lived at this point - it must have been the apartment on Cedar Springs, although it maybe could have been when she still lived in the house on Westglen. It was in the era of tight money…but not so tight that we couldn’t eat out. It felt normal to eat out, but in my memory there was an aura of tension at the possibility something could go wrong. Or maybe I’m just adding that in.
We sat on the patio and it was nice out. I looked over the menu to decide what to eat, and saw something that looked good. Now - Mom was generally of the “whatever you want” mindset. “Whatever makes you happy” and “Sure, sweetheart!” I don’t know how to reconcile that with the tight money. If I had to specify, I’d say that she got to pick when we did extravagant things, not us.
So I picked something and ordered. We ate chips and queso while we waited for our food. And then the waitress brought out our meal. There was something in a sizzling pan…a giant heap of meat. That was what I had ordered. I think it was like…fajitas for two or something.
I can’t remember what exactly was said. I think Mom said, “What is THAT?! Did you order that?” What I do remember is shame. I was so embarrassed. I didn’t realize until typing this that I don’t actually remember Mom’s reaction, and yet this was one of the most embarrassing and shameful memories of my childhood.
At some point, we looked at the menu again. It said that there was more than one pound of meat, and it cost twenty-six dollars. I remember feeling foolish for not noticing that, and taking on a duty to bring home all leftovers. (Is this the beginning of my weight of guilt around leftovers?)
My stomach is in knots just thinking about it. I can feel the warmth of a flush on my cheeks, even though I’m not blushing. Whatever Mom said or did, what I heard was “You have put our family in danger by your choice and by your negligence. I expected you to make a wise decision. You knew the rules, and you broke them.” To be clear: there were no spoken rules! It was an accident. I went through most of childhood and early teen years very aware of how much things cost on the menu, or so I thought. Maybe it started this day.
It was with shame that I packed up my food and shame that I carried it home. I feel like I can remember the weight of the leftovers in my lap in the car. The smell of it reheating later. I don’t even remember what it tasted like, although I can tell you that I remember some talk about me needing to like it, like it better be good.
Why did the waitress not say anything? How could she not have noticed I wasn’t going to share it with anyone, since everyone else ordered? And what were the rules that were unspoken? What was the difference in cost, really? Like, fifteen dollars? This was an accident, but it felt like I had willfully made an error. Or like…if I can’t be careful, I must be a terrible daughter. I must not have our family’s best interests in mind as well as I should.
Oh, dear baby Elle. I wish I could wrap you up and give you a hug. It’s okay. You are not responsible for the family budget. Your mistake did not put the entire family in danger. You are not a disappointing daughter because of this mistake.
The Money Rules: We don’t talk about what we want if we are pretty sure we can’t afford it. We must listen, observe, and learn all the unspoken rules about what there is or is not money for, and shape our requests appropriately. If you ask for something that is outside the budget, you bring shame on Mom and therefore on yourself. She might react badly and no one wants that, and so you should just keep your desires to yourself.