I write this post with a heavy heart. A few months ago I wrote a Yahoo!Finance column about a couple, Patrick and Suzy, who had been married three years and had just bought a home in Seattle. They decided to wait a year or two before having children while they paid down debt and built up their savings. Last week, while the couple walked their dog in the park, Patrick was killed by a falling tree limb. He was 32.

Patrick felt strongly about preparing fi- nancially for parenthood, while Suzy was ready to get started. When he asked my opinion, I agreed with Patrick that it made sense to wait: They needed both of their salaries to cover the bills, carried some heavy student loan obligations and didn’t know how they would afford daycare. Maybe they could have worked it out. Now we’ll never know.

I am wondering if I led them astray. Patrick was firm in his thinking; a friend reassures me that I was just a “data point” on the couple’s decision-making spectrum. But what if I had suggested they go for it, start a family and figure out the money later? What if I had advised them simply to have faith in themselves and in each other, to be flexible and open to major adjustments that might occur down the road, and jump in with both feet?

After all, my own parents took that approach. Good Irish Catholics, they had eleven children; I was the tenth. It was a different world, of course. My mother stayed home and never had outside help. (She went back to work part-time when the youngest was in first grade.) She made our clothes for a number of years. We thought nothing about sleeping three to a room. My parents never spent a dime on car seats; we all squashed into a station wagon, my brother and I squabbling in the space between the middle and back seats.

If we did “enrichment” it was a sport or activity at school, and it was free. There were no summer camps; we just took off on our bikes in the morning and came home when the streetlights came on. We drove to Michigan exactly twice on vacation when I was a kid. For years we had just one television, with a dozen channels. We spent a lot of Sundays at museums and in forest preserves, playing games and jumping in leaves.

And it worked out, because both my parents labored around the clock for decades, and prayed mightily for divine support. They had no “me” time scheduled into their calendars, and when we were small, their couple time typically involved sitting in the living room after we were all in bed, my dad rubbing my mom’s feet. In the dark, under the covers, we could hear them laughing. They were deeply committed to their child-rearing enterprise, regarding it as their purpose in life. Married 49 years with nary a public quarrel, their faith made all the difference. (My father died in my mother’s arms a week before their 50th wedding anniversary.)

Money doesn’t buy happiness, but it creates lots of options. A lot of parents, myself included, use money to try to get things right with our kids – the right safety devices, the right neighborhood and schools, the right tutoring and enrichment, the right 529 savings plans, the right colleges — so we can launch them on the right path. On the other hand, money should never replace creativity or commitment. My parents had both in spades.

Maybe money is something you should watch out of the corner of your eye when you’re contemplating decisions about life and your purpose on the planet — rather than letting it hover front and center, like a roadblock. Maybe when your heart’s desire is involved, a certain leap of faith is called for, because things can work out. Maybe it wouldn’t have made a difference, but I wish I had told Patrick that when I had the chance.

Last night I watched the 2007 film “The Diving Bell and The Butterfly,” based on the biography of Jean-Dominique Bauby. Bauby, the former editor-in-chief of the French fashion magazine Elle,  suffered a massive stroke at age 42 which resulted in “locked-in syndrome” — he could hear and understand everything around him, but couldn’t move or speak. He was able to communicate only by blinking his left eyelid.

Bauby’s speech therapist develops a way to help him communicate (see photo); he blinks as she reads the letters of the alphabet, spelling out his thoughts letter by letter. When she initially presents him with the system, he blinks the sentence “I want to die.” Eventually he realizes that although he’s locked in, he still has his mind and his imagination, and he decides to write a book about his experience, dictating it to an assistant word by word, by blinking. (In case you haven’t seen the DVD, I won’t reveal the end.)

Despite all I’ve learned about money and happiness, I admit I’ve had moments in which I created my own locked-in syndrome by giving money more power than it deserves. I’ve allowed it to play a role in my choices that was limiting, even paralyzing. At those times, I lost sight of how powerful the mind and the imagination can be.

Bauby, who, at the top of his game, is suddenly deprived of everything — even, as he puts it, the simple pleasure of ruffling his children’s hair — doesn’t allow his circumstances to diminish his spirit. He focuses on what he has, rather than what he’s lost, and forges ahead.

I have a series of stories coming out this Wednesday (Oct. 7) on Savvy Money Moms, a special section on the website www.family.com. One of them looks at the silver lining in the recession. I had the privilege of interviewing a number of families who are suffering financial hardships but found ways to come together, focus on simple pleasures and laughter, and even renew old dreams of doing work they love.  They inspired me, as Bauby’s story did, and reminded me that attitude is a choice, and it costs nothing to be  joyful.

The Diving Bell and the Butterfly is beautifully directed by artist Julian Schnabel. I watched the film with two of my daughters, and was grateful for the luxury of ruffling their hair.

Today’s Yahoo!Finance column looks at the financial challenges that face prospective parents. I interviewed a couple from Seattle, Patrick and Suzy, who are doing all the right things with their money but still feel overwhelmed by the financial issues related to having a child.

One of the biggest challenges is that they bought a home near a city they love, but one that’s thousands of miles from their famillies. Because of the expense, they both have to work full time, and yet they lack the support network extended family can provide when the kids come along.

Their story resonated with me, because I faced similar questions about compromise when we started our family. Like them, I am originally from the Midwest and fell in love with the vitality and creativity of the best city in the world (New York). It presented wonderful career and cultural opportunities and still does. We are an hour from the mountains and an hour from the ocean, 35 minutes from Broadway shows and the best museums in the world.

But back when I started having kids, I thought seriously about moving to Chicago, even asked my boss about a possible transfer. Our cost of living is significantly higher here than in the Midwest, which requires us to work harder to afford those museums and Broadway shows (and property taxes) — which ultimately gives us less time with our kids. (Although I work mainly from a home office, which helps.) I would love my girls to have the same relationship with my mother that their cousins in Chicago do, but that’s impossible when you only see each other a few times a year. They do, thankfully, have my husband’s family nearby.

But that’s life — it demands compromises. Would Patrick and Suzy be happier if they moved back to the Midwest, where they could afford a better lifestyle and be close to family when they have their kids — and give up the city and friends that make them happy? Should someone make career satisfaction a higher priority — even if it means moving far away from extended family? Or should you settle for a less satisfying career to sustain closer family ties? I’d love to hear your thoughts and experiences. You can comment here or email me at laura at laurarowley.com.

I met my friend Lynne yesterday for breakfast at the diner. Just before I arrived, she said, a man in his 70s had been shouting on his cell phone at his adult daughter.

The jist: “I told you you couldn’t afford that house! You have $100 in the bank! I’m not giving you any more money!” When he hung up he was so overwrought he was literally struggling to catch his breath, while his two buddies at the table shook their heads in sympathy.

I’m wondering how often this scenario is playing out across the country (hopefully in private rather than over scrambled eggs in a public place). I recently met another man in his 70s who is retiring and has been secretly funneling money to his adult daughter since his son-in-law was laid off a year ago. The problem is, he can’t afford to do it anymore and doesn’t know how to tell her.

A recent survey suggests that 45 percent of middle-aged workers with grown children provide financial support. One-third of parents over age 45 provide free housing or pay the rent for children over 25.

I think that’s bunk. The idea that a parent is a not an ATM should be clearly established when kids are young. Lessons of independence can be instilled in children as young as age 5 (I’ve been doing it with my kids since that age).

Once I began giving them a regular allowance, I would ask if they had brought money with them when they demanded something in a retail store. You only have to do this once or twice and they will begin bringing their wallet. Is it hard for me to say no sometimes? Sure. I got over it.

That’s not to say we’re stingy with our kids. We pay for the necessities, school tuition and enrichment classes, and give gifts at birthdays and holidays. We also match 100% of any money they put in savings. But when my eleven-year-old asked for an Ipod Nano this week, I said I would pay for half, and then we sat down to figure out how she could earn the other half.

Fundamentally, it’s unkind to subsidize children on a regular basis. Isn’t our most basic job as parents to shape independent, educated and productive adults who can take care of themselves and contribute something positive to the world? You have to establish the guidelines from an early age, get them excited and proud about earning their own way. It’s one way to avoid a soul-wrenching screaming match by cellphone decades later.  

(BTW, I am now cross-posting on shine.yahoo.com — to see reader comments on this post, click here.)

Sorry I haven’t posted in a while. We took a family trip to Florida this week (and came back to snow). Last week, I did a segment on the Today Show with Chris and Tammy Matier. I interviewed Chris for my Yahoo column on financial infidelity; he had secretly run up more than $20,000 in debt over an 18-month period after his first child was born. Chris and Tammy worked through the crisis together, and today counsel other couples facing similar situations. They are a terrific couple — check out their advice for sticking together and rebuilding trust.

Meanwhile, check out this Forbes piece on toxic credit cards you should avoid at all cost.

In 1977, only one million Americans were cohabiting; today, it’s five million, according to the Census Bureau. Should you combine bank accounts with a live-in partner?The short answer is: No. Keep everything separate—from credit cards to savings accounts. My friendly neighborhood banker shared the tale of a client who opened a joint account with her boyfriend, only to have him drain it when they broke up.  

When you’re married, the government recognizes your assets as legally owned by both of you. If someone absconds with all the cash, the other person has the power to get restoration in a divorce court. But if you’re not hitched and your partner walks away with the dough, you have no legal recourse, because when you opened your joint account you signed a customer access agreement that gave your partner the key.

Another risk: If your partner is a check bouncer, you’re both liable for his bad habits in the event he bounces out of the picture. If you are a long-term, live-in couple with no plans to marry (Susan Sarandon/Tim Robbins, Goldie Hawn/Kurt Russell), consider a written property agreement that notes who owns what, and how you split up income and expenses.  

Why bother? Because many states recognize an oral contract, or one implied by a living arrangement. So if you’re an investment banker supporting an unpublished poet, theoretically, he or she could go before a judge and say that you promised to split your take-home pay 50/50 with him. Tough to prove, yes, but who wants a court fight? You can download forms for a written property agreement at the web site Selfhelplaw.com. 

My dad always loved puns — the cornier, the better. He never lost his clever sense of humor, even as he lay dying of cancer. My niece and nephew were visiting his bedside one day; at the time, my nephew was losing his teeth right and left, making a killing from the tooth fairy.

My niece told my dad, “Whenever he wants money, he just pulls another tooth!”

My dad, a dentist for more than 40 years, answered weakly, “I used to do that too.”

My dad would have been 77 this month. We lost him in 2003, a week before my parents’ 50th wedding anniversary. I feel his absence at predictable times — holiday weekends like this one, his birthday, when my kids make up a pun. Sorrow also sneaks up in desultory moments — when I survey the mudslide in my backyard and want to call him for advice on how to turn it into grass. (My dad had a phenomenal green thumb.) Or when I watch my eight- and six-year-old perform in the chorus of a high school play, wishing he was in the next seat. (My dad was in amateur productions of “Camelot” and “South Pacific,” and sang in the church choir for more than 30 years.)

Lately, I’ve been thinking about his legacy, particularly what he taught me about wealth. Maybe it’s my age: One day you wake up 40, feel the gravity of your choices, and think, “How did my parents do this?”

My dad had a successful practice, but instead of the sports cars, Hawaiian vacations, and the ample homes of his peers, he spent his money raising a boisterous brood of 11 children. By age 40, he already had 10 kids, the youngest (me) nearly four years old. I just crossed the 40-year mark, with a much smaller houseful of kids, and my youngest is also nearly four. I can’t call him up for advice anymore, so instead I take my cues from how he chose to live his life. In that, I’ve found a rich legacy.

1. Thrills are truly cheap.

Growing up, fun usually started with an open space: A forest preserve carpeted with fallen leaves, a steep and snowy toboggan slide, a blistering public beach on Lake Michigan, a shuffleboard court painted on the driveway.

My dad loved sports. But instead of heading off to a golf course on Saturday, he swam at the public pool and played football in the park and enjoyed sledding with his kids — even after a notorious collision of Flexible Flyers left him with a broken jaw.

He channeled our collective energy into marathon sessions of Pinochle, Risk, Monopoly, and chess. He never cheated — unless you count the elegant little matrix he made of all the acceptable two-letter words in Scrabble.

In my era, the entertainment of children has grown into expensive art studios, gigantic gymnastics centers, professional voice lessons, and competitive traveling teams. I had something far more valuable: My dad’s time and attention.

2. Everyone chips in.

On a pink sheet of paper taped to the inside of the kitchen cupboard was “The List.”

My dad divided the kids into four teams. Each team had to set the table and clean up after dinner one week a month. Older kids who could handle dishes were paired with younger ones who would wipe tables and sweep.

Complaints about partners were dismissed — we failed to unionize, despite our numbers — although management rearranged the teams each month to keep things interesting (or perhaps to suppress union activity).

Doing dishes was part of a highly intricate system of accumulating “points” toward your allowance, a scheme too complex to recall (but which may explain my long-standing obsession with frequent flyer miles).

3. Be generous and honest.

One time my dad came home from the office with an enormous basket of tomatoes, from a patient who insisted on paying the bill the only way he could. On another occasion, my dad was audited by the IRS. I suspect the unusually large number of dependents may have triggered the audit. After an exhaustive review, the agent told him he had discovered just one anomaly: Compared to competitors, my dad wasn’t charging nearly enough for his services.

4. Space is secondary.

On sultry summer nights, my siblings and I would drag 10 mattresses into the bedroom that had an air conditioner, and compete for the group’s attention with acrobatic feats, scary stories, and original songs. We never felt deprived by a lack of central air.

As an adult, I long for more space, imagine bumping out the kitchen wall, wish for the comfortable family room – even though I have decidedly more square feet per person than I had growing up.

I have abandoned my expansion fantasies for now, because I realize it’s not the space you have — but what happens in that space — that counts.

5. Bribery will not permanently damage your children.

As a kid, I relentlessly shadowed my brother Paul: On bicycle to the candy store, on skateboard to his friends’ houses, on foot through the vacant lot behind the house looking for odd treasures. Finally, my parents gave me a quarter a day to stay away from him, which worked like a charm.

Years earlier, my sister Mary had been bribed with equal success — this time, to take a sibling with her. (Mary tried to negotiate for more money with my sister Ann already tucked behind her on the banana-seat bike. She lost.)

And, one summer my dad gave me a quarter for every book I read; I literally dove through 75 books in 12 weeks.

Childhood bribery has affected neither our motivation nor our lawfulness as mature adults; although the other day I offered my husband a quarter to clean the bathroom.

6. People are more important than material objects.

The depth of my dad’s forgiveness can be measured in the number of cars we totaled and stolen bicycles we forgot to lock.

If life wasn’t simpler back then, it sure felt less driven by money. Maybe the most important lesson I learned from my dad is financial faith — the calm conviction that comes from choosing to be accountable for your life the way it is, and joyful about it rather than always wishing for more. I’m still working on that one.

Do you have a legacy from a parent that you would like to share? Comment here or email me at laura at laurarowley.com.

(Adapted from my Yahoo!Finance column)

Creating a successful marriage is hard work. So it’s nice to know you’re getting paid for it. That’s the word from a researcher at Ohio State University, who found that people who walk down the aisle and stay hitched accumulate nearly twice as much wealth as those who are single or divorced.

Economist Jay Zagorsky of OSU’s Center for Human Resource Research, tracked the financial and marital status of more than 9,000 people from 1985 to 2000. Married people amassed an astonishing 93 percent more than single or divorced people over the 15-year period.

Wealth was defined as a participant’s total assets, such as bank accounts, stocks, bonds, and real estate, minus outstanding debt, such as a mortgage. The data came from the National Longitudinal Survey of Youth, a study funded by the U.S. Bureau of Labor Statistics that has repeatedly surveyed the same individuals over time.

According to the report, which was published in the Journal of Sociology, people who married and stayed married showed a sharp wealth expansion after they wed, growing to an average of about $43,000 by the 10th year. For single people, assets grew from less than $2,000 at the start of the survey to about $11,000 by the 15th year.

Those who divorced saw their wealth shrink by 77 percent — a larger decline than would occur by simply splitting a couple’s assets in half.

“You lose economies of scale in divorce — you need two places to live, two cars,” Zagorsky explains. “Divorce is quite expensive, paying for lawyers and court fees. Divorce is also time-consuming. It may take time away from work, which also reduces many people’s incomes.” In addition, divorce weakens the incentive to work harder in the future, particularly if a percentage of income is garnished to pay alimony.

On the other hand, wedded bliss has rich rewards: Married people boosted their wealth by about 4 percent each year just as a result of being married, with all other factors held constant, Zagorsky says.

“For the majority of people, wealth tends to be built up from savings, and savings is the difference between income and expenses,” Zagorsky notes. People who live together spend less and save more. For instance, the Bureau of Labor Statistics tracks actual spending in its Consumer Expenditure Survey. It found that while a single person spends $25,423, a two-person family spent $45,855 — only 1.8 times the amount.

While staying together makes you rich, money is also, ironically, the factor that most frequently puts a union asunder. In a separate study published in the Journal of Socio-Economics, Zagorsky found that women argue with their significant others about money more than any other topic (including love, children, in-laws, leisure, drinking, chores, other women, and religion).

Why? Because they don’t agree on how much money they have. Zagorsky found clear gender differences in how men and women perceive their wealth.

If they have a house and car, for example, the man will tend to focus on the hard assets (what they own), and the woman, on the mortgage and car loan (what they owe). Men typically value the assets higher than women; wives tend to estimate the debts as larger. The researchers were unable to conduct forensic accounting to see who was more accurate in reporting — but the perception differences were real.

For instance, the typical husband says the couple earns 5 percent more income and has 10 percent more total wealth than his wife reports. Meanwhile, she says the family’s debts are $500 more than her husband reports.

Among older couples surveyed, half differed in their wealth estimates by more than $14,700 — and 10 percent different by a shocking $113,000. Among younger couples, half differed in their wealth estimates by $7,000, 10 percent differed by more than $31,000.

The differences could not be attributed to the dated notion that wives were kept in the dark about family finances. Husbands paid the bills in their families only about 40 percent of the time; wives, 60 percent.

Perhaps the most important finding: Couples who didn’t divorce were more in accord on their estimates than couples who divorced. In other words, they knew how to communicate.

So if you want to stay married and enjoy the wealth that accompanies it, sit down with your beloved and open the books before you tie the knot. Such a discussion can reveal things about a potential partner that may justify a case of cold feet. A few suggestions:

-List all of your accounts and look at your combined asset allocation to ensure you’re not overexposed in one area — especially if you work for the same employer and hold company stock in your 401(k).

-Come clean about your debts. Once you’re wed, you’re both legally responsible for them, so decide upfront who will pay them off and on what timetable.

-A clash of money personalities — a spender and a saver, for instance — should be worked out sooner to avoid conflicts later. The spender should try operating on a weekly allowance. To avoid making this partner feel like they’re in third grade, he or she should be able to spend the money on whatever they want. But when it’s gone, it’s gone. (I use Mvelopes.com in my family, which helps in both budgeting and communication with my spouse about money.)

-Once you’re legal partners, get new beneficiary-designation forms for all your accounts. Consider life insurance if you have large debts or a sizeable mortgage; buy it as soon as you’re expecting children.

-Open a joint checking account to pay the big household bills (contribute the same amount or percentage of income), and keep individual accounts for personal spending. Talk about how much is O.K. to spend without consulting your partner.

One upbeat note from Zagorsky’s research: Bickering about money diminished significantly over time. Because when you’re getting rich, who needs to argue?