Monkey braving the slopes with his instructor This weekend, my husband and children and I are spending a few days with friends who live near a ski resort. For the first time ever, Monkey is going to learn how to ski and boy, is it expensive. Since Monkey is not yet six, he has to have a private lesson, which at only $10 more than a group lesson, is going to cost around $100. I'm looking forward to seeing if Monkey enjoys skiing, but part of me is incredulous that I am spending $100 on a 90 minute class for a five year old. Some serious skiers might think the price is reasonable since this is Pennsylvania, not Aspen, but when I look back on my own childhood, I can't recall my parents spending $100 on me in a single day, much less a few hours. I think an entire week of camp (band camp, mind you) was $100, including meals, practices, cabins and night-time sing-a-longs.
So here I am, packing up thermal underwear, fretting about the layers to pack and asking myself if I should really be spending $100--plus ski rental fees--on a five-year-old. I am aware that many parents are comfortable spending more than that on gifts or a day out, but I am not there yet. Growing up as one of five kids on a professor's salary meant we had a lot of philosophical topics to discuss, but not much money to spend. While some (not all) kids in my hometown had vacation homes and went skiing we took short car trips or spent the money on operas and classical music performances in Columbus.
It's not only the cost of skiing weighing on my mind. I worry that my children won't appreciate how lucky they are to get to ski at such a young age. At age three, Munchkin still has another year before she's allowed on the slopes, but I didn't take a lesson until I was in my late 20s and have only been skiing a handful of times since. And what about Monkey's soccer lessons and Munchkin's gymnastics classes? They are also additional perks of comfortable living that merit some extra thought and appreciation. We, as a family, are lucky to have a warm home, a functioning car, free schooling and plenty of clothes and books to go around. I see these other activities as special: they are opportunities to do really fun things that not all kids get to do and my husband and I didn't get to do at this age. Sure I took a year of gymnastics at age 12, but I paid my way through a year of acrobatics in high school. When I look around at parents here, and even in my previous urban life, a majority of kids do the same activities as my kids and more: hockey, piano, swimming. When we are surrounded by so many families doing a multitude of activities, how do I show my kids that this is a gift of opportunity and availability? I don't want to keep my children from doing extracurriculars if they're interested in them, but I guess my guilt lies partially in the fact that even though we can afford certain lessons or a day of skiing, it still feels like a lot of money. Even accounting for inflation and the 35 years since I was Monkey's age, $100 still feels like a lot of money.
Interestingly I am more comfortable with our bi-annual trips to India, which I know are a luxury we are fortunate to afford, because I see them as a familial obligation that is non-negotiable. Our children have to know their grandparents, aunts and uncles and they have to know India. The cost of that knowledge is a plane ticket. What, in the end, is the cost in knowledge of forgoing ski trips, future gymnastics meets and music recitals? Where does giving kids opportunities become a luxury vs a family tradition vs necessity?
I haven't figured out exactly how to teach the kids to value the lessons they are getting on the slopes. I will tell them that neither their Dad nor I got to do such things, though we did do plenty of other fun things. As my children learn the value of money, I can also teach them how much these things cost and how hard both my husband and I work to afford them. Instead of comparing my childhood to my children's and feeling guilty for the extras I can provide them, I think the key may be to acknowledge the good fortune I had as a child as well as the good fortune my children have at home, on the playing field, and, this Saturday, on the slopes.
It's not only the cost of skiing weighing on my mind. I worry that my children won't appreciate how lucky they are to get to ski at such a young age. At age three, Munchkin still has another year before she's allowed on the slopes, but I didn't take a lesson until I was in my late 20s and have only been skiing a handful of times since. And what about Monkey's soccer lessons and Munchkin's gymnastics classes? They are also additional perks of comfortable living that merit some extra thought and appreciation. We, as a family, are lucky to have a warm home, a functioning car, free schooling and plenty of clothes and books to go around. I see these other activities as special: they are opportunities to do really fun things that not all kids get to do and my husband and I didn't get to do at this age. Sure I took a year of gymnastics at age 12, but I paid my way through a year of acrobatics in high school. When I look around at parents here, and even in my previous urban life, a majority of kids do the same activities as my kids and more: hockey, piano, swimming. When we are surrounded by so many families doing a multitude of activities, how do I show my kids that this is a gift of opportunity and availability? I don't want to keep my children from doing extracurriculars if they're interested in them, but I guess my guilt lies partially in the fact that even though we can afford certain lessons or a day of skiing, it still feels like a lot of money. Even accounting for inflation and the 35 years since I was Monkey's age, $100 still feels like a lot of money.
Interestingly I am more comfortable with our bi-annual trips to India, which I know are a luxury we are fortunate to afford, because I see them as a familial obligation that is non-negotiable. Our children have to know their grandparents, aunts and uncles and they have to know India. The cost of that knowledge is a plane ticket. What, in the end, is the cost in knowledge of forgoing ski trips, future gymnastics meets and music recitals? Where does giving kids opportunities become a luxury vs a family tradition vs necessity?
I haven't figured out exactly how to teach the kids to value the lessons they are getting on the slopes. I will tell them that neither their Dad nor I got to do such things, though we did do plenty of other fun things. As my children learn the value of money, I can also teach them how much these things cost and how hard both my husband and I work to afford them. Instead of comparing my childhood to my children's and feeling guilty for the extras I can provide them, I think the key may be to acknowledge the good fortune I had as a child as well as the good fortune my children have at home, on the playing field, and, this Saturday, on the slopes.
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