Illusions

After the morning break in one of my seminars, I noticed that Stephanie, a pretty brunette in her late twenties, had not returned. She had come with her mother, Rosalie, who had paid for Stephanie’s registration. Rosalie wanted her daughter, who was to be married in a few months, to learn before marriage what Rosalie had learned the hard way after a bitter divorce.

Happy Mother’s Day

I was nineteen and she was five. Five days old. Six pounds of human potential for whom I was now officially mommy. The baby fit snugly between my fingertips and elbow . I gazed down at her tiny face peeking through the pale pink blanket. Love and fear flooded over me. I knew little about life, less about babies.
How will I know what each cry means or if she’s hungry, or hurts, or is just exercising her lungs? What if I diaper her wrong and the safety pin opens , or she can’t breathe in her crib, or the bath water is too cool or the formula too hot.
We drove home from the hospital, and laid the baby on the bed, the same bed where she had been conceived. I cried at her fragility and my overwhelming feeling of responsibility. I didn't understand parenting yet, but vowed to be a perfect mother. I would read everything, learn everything, do everything.
Her father unwrapped the blanket, and her tiny arms and legs reached upward. He tried to reassure me that we would know what to do, that we weren’t the first parents who didn’t know anything about babies. Bravado, of course. He knew less about babies than I did.
I still wonder what I might have done differently with more maturity. Or perhaps it is the nature of things. For first borns, we yearn to be the perfect mother, whatever that means. With their siblings, a good enough mother is enough.
Happy Mother's Day.

Who Pays for the Wedding?

If someone told you that you’d lose nearly $30,000 in four years, would you consider that a good investment?
Consider this: According to 2005 U.S. Census Bureau and the National Center for Health Statistics, 1.2 million women annually become first time brides at an average age of 25.3 years old.
The $50 billion wedding industry reports that the average wedding costs $27, 850, with the number of wedding guests averaging 165 people. One third of those weddings are paid for by the bride’s parents! We don’t have figures on how many parents take out loans or tap into their retirement savings to pay for the wedding.
But those same government agencies report that the median age at first divorce for women is 29 years old.
A ‘perfect wedding’ is part of the bride’s conditioning, her fantasy day since she received a Barbie doll for Christmas. She has been planning this wedding in her imagination for years. It doesn't work without a groom. Have you ever met a man who fantasizes about his wedding day? I haven't. Few men besides wedding planners think about weddings. There is no Modern Groom magazine. This is the bride’s big day ; the groom is part of the scenario. It's performance art for him. He’ll go along with it he's not paying for it.
I think if bride and groom can’t pay for 80 percent of their own wedding, they should postpone it until they can. They might work harder at the relationship if they were investing their own money, thereby leaving mom and dad more assets for their retirement.

Just One?

Many solo women, my daughters included, would rather die than be seen in public alone on Saturday night. I didn’t know that in those early months of being widowed. I just knew that I was desperate for some sushi and a movie. Just being able to summon the energy to head out felt like progress to me after months of grieving and social shutdown. Before I could change my mind and tell myself it didn’t matter, I drove to downtown Palo Alto to the sushi restaurant across from the movie.
The waiting area was crowded. Every seat at the sushi bar was occupied. I moved to the front of the waiting area and told the host that I wanted dinner for one.
“Jus one?”
"Yes, I want to catch the 8:00 movie.”
Miraculously, he said “You come,” and led me to a table set for four. As I was sitting down, the waiter approached with four menus. He looked around, looked at me and asked, “Jus one?”
"Yes,” I replied, annoyed at being asked again when I was obviously alone. He quickly began removing the other three place settings when the busboy appeared with a tray carrying four glasses of water. He screeched to a halt , noticed that I was alone and asked, “Jus one?"
By this time, tears mixed with laughter at the absurdity of the situation. It seemed like a Saturday Night Live skit. Everything had a surreal quality about it – being alone, eating alone, surrounded by couples and families, feeling that everyone was looking at me, wondering why I was crying and laughing simultaneously, feeling that I should have stayed home .
After dinner, I walked across the street to the movie. People were waiting to buy tickets. I got on line, feeling that I had just survived something pivotal in my journey back towards emotional healing. The line moved forward and it was my turn at the cashier. “One adult”, I said easing a ten dollar bill under the glass.
“Just one?” the lady asked looking to the right and left of me.
"One adult,” I repeated, looking her straight in the eye. That was the moment I decided never to say "Just one" again.

“Sign here, Honey”

Remember your shock the first time you looked at your face in a magnifying mirror? Your flawless complexion, magnified several levels, showed everything you'd never see by looking into an ordinary mirror.
That’s what happens when you learn what the numbers mean on your income tax return. You get a much closer look at what is going on financially in your marriage.
Every year on April 15, my husband would race into the house at
9:00 pm with the tax return he’d just picked up from his accountant.“The Post Office is open till midnight, so sign here honey,” he’d say, handing me a pen, and pointing to the pages with the little yellow tabs waiting for my signature.
Like most wives I know, I was on automatic pilot. “Sign here Honey” meant just that. I was relieved at the time that I didn’t have to be involved with what I considered to be, like mowing the lawn or cleaning out the garage, my husband’s job.
Today, knowing how foolish that can be, I’d never sign a form, contract or agreement or legal document that I don’t understand. That goes for the tax return as well.
Typically, your husband isn’t going to intentionally falsify information on the return. On the other hand, he might be doing exactly that. As soon as you sign, you’re agreeing to the accuracy of the information and the government assumes you understood what you signed.
However, “Sign here Honey” may be three little words that can come back to haunt you if you are ever divorced or widowed.
My friend Betty earned a six-figure income with a large corporation. She managed huge budgets and financial commitments affecting hundreds of employees. But when it came to her marital finances, Betty assumed the role of traditional wife, letting her husband Mike manage their finances.
During her divorce proceedings a few years ago, Betty was asked if she saw the tax returns annually. She did. Did she review them? No, frankly, she trusted her husband. Wasn’t she concerned about what she was signing? No. Three years after their divorce was final, Betty was still wrangling with the IRS about her ex-husband’s underreported income.
Your husband isn’t necessarily trying to hide things from you by preparing the return. He does it because you don't. So ask him to explain what the numbers mean. He might be relieved that you’re finally taking an interest in the marital finances.
If an accountant is doing your taxes, attend the meeting with your husband. This is a great place to ask questions because the accountant can explain things to you that often your husband doesn’t fully understand. Remember, you have to show interest, especially if you’ve made it a point not to be involved over the years.
“Sign here Honey” takes on a totally different meaning when you’re participating as a financially intimate partner.

Women and Money

In the ‘70s, Gloria Steinem coined a one word phrase “Click!” that was shorthand for “Oh! Enough said. I’ve got it. Point taken.” “Click” included all those phrases in one word.
I’m feeling a lot of Clicks in the last few weeks with the release of Suze Orman’s new book “Women and Money” and the interviews she’s been giving on television and in print.
Suze Orman is one of the best writers about financial information. Her writing is clear and conversational. The information is accurate and easy to understand. In fact, I recommend her books to women who take my seminars. I’ve even included her books as part of the suggested reading list in "Don't Worry about a Thing, Dear "- Why Women Need Financial Intimacy.
But there’s always been something missing, and until the last few weeks, I couldn’t figure it out. Until CLICK!
Suze, by her own description, has never been in a relationship with a man. She’s never been held hostage by the cultural forces that millions of women experience in relationship to their husband. She’s never been legally bound to a man who raises his voice in anger, stonewalls his wife, refuses to share financial information with her or blocks her access to marital finance records. She is never in danger because someone else is making decisions without her knowledge that affect her legal and financial well-being.
Suze never raised children; her nurturing instincts weren’t tested by children whom luck or life dealt a raw deal and there is no one to turn to except Mom. She’s been, and continues to be, a free agent, unencumbered by the cultural and emotional baggage that millions of heterosexual women experience in marriage and motherhood.
Women have a lot to learn about money and their relationship to it. Owning the power to control your own destiny, which is the subtitle of Suze's new book "Women and Money", is, unfortunately, exactly what wives can't do without their husband's cooperation.
CLICK!

A 21st Century Dowry

I met a woman recently who told me that, when her daughter Lisa was born 30 years ago, she and her husband bought a house for her in Palo Alto. It seems her own mother had done the same thing for her and she was continuing a family tradition.
Over the years, the value of the house increased as the mortgage decreased. In the last 30 years, the $35,000 investment grew to over a million dollars. The house had paid for family vacations and even financed her daughter’s college education.
That’s not so easy to do in today’s real estate market. But that isn’t keeping millions of women from buying their own home – a twist on the Hope Chest of yesterday.
It is not clear when the tradition of the "Hope Chest" started, or where, but it is certainly one that has survived the centuries. The Hope Chest signifies 'hope for marriage' and the promise of love and security.
A Hope Chest is really nothing more than a wooden chest, a storage unit, or a large box full of items that have been collected over time. It was property that a woman owned and brought into her marriage. In years gone by, women filled it with sentimental treasures as well as practical items they would use in setting up a new home with their husband.
But since houses and husbands are not mutually exclusive, the large number of women buying their own home today are storing treasures in a different kind of hope chest. They’re filling their home with today’s pleasures and tomorrow’s dreams, many of which may still include marriage - but don’t depend on it.
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