When I decided to get married, my father decided to share some wisdom. "Lori, it is just as easy to love a rich man as it is to love a poor man, " he said. My boyfriend didn't have much money, but I loved him. "What?" I cried. " How can you say that? I want to marry for love, NOT for money." " But why not marry someone you love who has money?" he asked. "Rich men are materialistic . I'd rather marry a poor man who loves me," I said and he gave in. And as we went on, with my family growing, I learned why my father put such importance on money. We had to cover the rent, car, electricity, food, and medical bills. We were under lot of pressure. The worries over whether we would be asked to move out or if we had the money to wash our clothes at the Laundromat this week made me question if I did the right thing by marrying a "poor" man. I realized that I had entered the ranks of the poor. Not that I'd ever been rich. Most of my life, I considered us in the lower middle-class rank. We had a house of our own, food on the table, cars, clothes, and money for college. But now, as I listened to an apartment neighbour talk about her monthly "Mother's Day" gift, I realized she was talking about her welfare check . And another young mother tried to "help" me out by connecting me with a friend who stole baby clothes from a department store. " For a small cut," she said, " I could return my 'purchase' for cash." It made me sick. How poor was I? I had a college education but wasn't using it. I insisted on not missing a minute of our children's childhood and it came at a price. My husband was working as hard as he could and it wasn't enough. But somehow we made it. The kids grew. Today, we look back and see the great values gained by going through those hard years. My children are not materialistic. They never thought they were poor growing up because we always managed to give a little bit of food, money, or clothes to the "poor". They were satisfied with the simple things in life that come free such as a beach day or a horse back ride from their dad. We had our worries, but we still treasured our very favorite part of the day when we'd nest  under the covers and talked about our future, the kids and how much we loved each other. Sure our financial  troubles caused a lot of fights, but we didn't leave each other. We began to live a better life. We moved to a better community with good schools for the kids. And soon, we'll face a new challenge with wealth. But we'll never give up. My father died three years ago. Before he died, he knew I made the right choice. I'm proud of my decision. . Why didn't the writer's children think they were poor growing up?
Because the writer always gave them whatever they wanted Because the writer and her children often helped other people. Because the writer didn't let her children play with their rich neighbours Because the writer let her children have a good life through receiving help from others.