Dear Rebbetzin Weinberg,

I just lost my job. I have not told my husband or family. It was a part-time job, and I’m not the main breadwinner, but we definitely depend on my income for a lot of the extras. I dread telling everyone. Our teenagers are used to buying a lot of things. Maybe I spoiled them a little, because I wanted them to feel confident among their friends. I didn’t want them to feel poor or deprived. Now I’m afraid of how they’ll take to a restricted budget. Will they be understanding, or will they be angry? I very much don’t want to look like a failure in my kids’ eyes. I know I can’t keep this secret forever, but I need some advice on how to tell everyone.

Lost in More Ways Than One

Dear Rebbetzin Weinberg,

I’m beginning to think I have a problem with money. I like to buy nice things for my children, my husband, and myself. I feel good when we go out together and everyone is well dressed. My parents always emphasized the importance of looking presentable, and my in-laws feel the same way.

I am a good shopper and almost always manage to get good deals. I’m very conscious of prices and value, and I buy things at big markdowns. This has worked for us in the past, but now the bills are piling up. Sometimes, I even lie to my husband about how much something cost. He makes a decent salary, and I work part-time. But it is not enough. We used to pay off our credit card bill each month. Now, I am only paying the minimum amount, which means that the interest is skyrocketing. We are a month behind on the mortgage, too.

Dear Rebbetzin Weinberg,

I have been friends with someone since our elementary school days. Now we both have married children and several grandchildren. We have maintained our friendship, being closer some years than others, depending on what was going on in our lives. But it has always been a very solid friendship.

Now I sense a change in her. My husband and I have, b”H, seen success in our parnassa, especially over the last five years. They have not. While we have not drastically changed our lifestyle, we’ve been able to buy nicer clothing, better furnishings, etc. When my friend comes over, I feel she looks at these things with a jealous eye. Her attitude seems to be: You have everything, I have nothing. I don’t believe I’m a showy or boastful person, but it’s impossible to hide our good fortune. From small comments that this friend makes, I sense her tremendous jealousy.

Dear Rebbetzin Weinberg,

We hosted an informal meal for an organization in our home. I assumed that only adults would come, but some people apparently thought otherwise and brought their children. The children were noisy and disruptive, and one mother wanted her child to play with the toys, which had been carefully put away for this occasion. When I asked her to keep the child with her, she was quite insulted. I have a feeling this problem will come up again in the future. Was I wrong? How should I have handled the situation?

Dear Rebbetzin Weinberg,

Thank you for your column; it’s my favorite part of the WWW I am writing to you about unsolicited advice (and opinions) given to me by my parents and in-laws. They are all very wonderful people, whom I deeply admire and respect. However, I would like to have my turn to build my home, the way I’ve always hoped, together with my wonderful husband, b’ezras Hashem. I don’t want to be told “you should…” or “I think…” regarding the way I raise my kids and develop my home. I know our parents are well meaning – so much so that I bet they would never fathom that they interfere with their children’s marriages. But they do. And it really bothers me.

Dear Rebbetzin Weinberg,

I have been married for 12 years. I’m not exactly unhappy, but I would say I am far from being happy. When we got married, my husband seemed more energetic and personable. Now, we have very little to say to each other. A typical conversation might be “Where are my clean shirts,” or “How’s `Moishy’ doing in school?”

My husband is basically a good man and is kind to us. He supports us adequately, and I work part time for my own satisfaction, but we have grown apart. There is just this crushing boredom. I have said, let’s go