Mom Bucks

Parenting has made me a little power hungry; this month I created my own currency.  Next month, I take over the world. 

As for the currency, it has my face on it and says “MOM BUCKS” in all caps and is only distributed to those who sprang from my loins.  My brother found a 50-dollar mom buck under one of the kid’s beds and tried to cash it in. “Whatever,” I told him.  “Go ask you own mommy for 50 cents.”

So power hungry as it may sound, I have no delusions of grandeur.  Every mom buck is worth one cent.   My kids are just desperate enough that they’ll do anything for a handful of pennies.  Or maybe they’re just bad at math.  They are my children, after all.  

So the currency only applies to my children.  And lest they forget just how tyrannical I’ve become, the bottom of each bill reads, “Mom reserves the right to giveth and taketh away at her discretion.”  I spell Power with a capital P.

Spunk's Mom Bucks in a puzzle tin

Think of it as distributing an allowance using Monopoly money which they can cash in only when they’ve accrued $500 MOM BUCKS.  They do something without being asked, they earn $25 MOM BUCKS. They do their chores for the day, $50 MOM BUCKS.  Volunteer for the soup kitchen, $150 MOM BUCKS.  The problem for my children is, I determine when they do not pass go and do not collect $200 MOM BUCKS.  In fact, I may choose to taketh away $200 MOM BUCKS instead (please refer to the previous paragraph).  Hit your brother, surrender 50 MOM BUCKS.  Roll your eyes, 50 MOM BUCKS.   Talk back, 150 MOM BUCKS and go directly to jail.  “I brought you into this world, I can take you back out.”  

Phew.  I just got a little carried away.  

Okay, so maybe it’s gone to my head a little.  But it’s a new currency, and there’s bound to be a transitional period.  Like the time Sport ripped a fistful of bills in half.  “I don’t want to play anymore.”  He said something about life being unfair and my wild eyes and trance-like behavior.  Yada, yada.  It was his idea in the first place.

Sport suggested it after reading about MOM BUCKS in The Wimpy Kid Diaries, a series that’s become one of his favorites.  He shared it with me hoping that MOM BUCKS would make him rich.  It’s become a valuable lesson in the power of centralized banks in driving the economy and subjecting the layman to unethical and disproportionate standards that threaten our standard of living.  He’s going to ace Poli Sci.  And, perhaps, require years and years of therapy.

Okay, okay, so maybe I need to rethink this whole idea of paying my kids for performing good deeds.  And having them pay me back whenever I feel like it.  But can I at least wait until it’s time to retire all the bills (i.e. after they’ve each gone through the laundry once)? 

It’s risky though.  They’re likely to revolt before then.  They are my children, after all.