How Much Is Too Much?

I have this thing about Christmas. I don’t know where it comes from, but I do know when it started: Kali’s second Christmas, our first with Donny. We had just moved from our cramped but cozy one bedroom apartment into a spacious two bedroom townhouse. I stopped counting presents under the tree somewhere in the 90′s. If we knew you, you got a present. We bought for all our siblings, parents, friends, etc., but of course the bulk of the presents were for each other. Donny collected those Todd McFarland (sp?) figures from horror movies and I must have bought him at least twenty along with new speakers for his compute, various games, and clothes. And poor Kali was 20 months old and had more presents than her little hands could open.

My mother, her husband, and my sisters came over that morning and looking back on it, I’m quite embarrassed at the number of gifts under the tree. You know you bought too much when you actually get tired of opening presents. When you glance under the tree and think, “Shit, what else is there?!”

In the following years I’ve cut back dramatically. Partially due to finances (being a homeowner is a lot more expensive than renting a townhouse) and the fact that the older Kali gets the less there seems available to buy her. Not to mention that her wants get more extravagant. Does anyone remember the blog I wrote around this time last year where I shared Kali’s Christmas list?

- a flatscreen tv
- an ipod
- my own TiVo
- a new computer

I explained to Kali that she would not be getting her own flatscreen.

“Why not?”

“Uh, because I don’t have my own flatscreen.”

Now, of course, as I type this I’m watching tonight’s episode of The Unit on my flatscreen so this year I may have to tell her she can get a flatscreen when she gets a job. Wait, I don’t have one of those either. Hmmm.

Another reason we’ve managed to cut back is because Donny and I have decided to, much like last year, just get one big gift for ourselves before Christmas and just focus on Kali. Last year it was the XBox 360, this year the Wii and the TV.

Today, I wrapped three of the five presents I’ve already purchased for Kali and placed them under the tree. Then I looked at the list to see what I still had to buy and realized that all the gifts added up to 15. And then I felt bad. I felt like it wasn’t enough. I felt like she’d take one look at the tree and be like, “Are you kidding me?”

And I know that’s ridiculous… well, maybe not. But I guess what I’m trying to say is that kids expect what you set up for them. If you spend every Christmas breaking the bank whether you can afford to or not, of course they’ll expect a plethora of riches under the tree each year.

This year I’m determined to keep it simple. To just buy things that I know she needs/wants. As I type this I can think of at least three or four things that she got last year that have rarely been played with.

This is what’s under the tree so far:

1) Playground – a game for the Wii
2) High School Musical – a game for the Wii
3) Disney Digital Cam
4) Are You Smarter Than a 5th Grader? board game
5) Meet the Robinsons DVD

This is what I still have to get…

1) iPod Shuffle (purple) – actually, my Mom is going to buy this for her.
2) A new pink bike
3) Hannah Montana DVD board game
4) My Sims – Wii game
5) Viva Pinata Party Animals – XBox 360 game
6) Viva Pinata – XBox 360 game
7) new pink bike helmet
Kawasaki Keyboard w/ stand
9) Pink XBox 360 controller
10) Judy Moody books
11) a new pair of sneakers

I am determined to stop there. If I so much as hint at getting anything else you guys stop me, okay? Because that’s a good Christmas, right? That’s not too much. Right? Not too little?

Earlier today I asked Kali…

“What would be a good number of presents under the tree?”

“50!”

“If you weren’t crazy, what would be a good number of presents under the tree?”

“Ummm, 10? No, 15. Ok, between like 10-15 would be good.”

“What if I told you those three things under the tree were all you were getting?”

She kinda scrunched up her face with just a hint of, “Bitch, you better be playin’!”

“Weeeeelll, that’s a little bit of stuff…”

“Well, what if you got like three or five things, but they were like really expensive nice things?”

“What do you mean?”

“Let’s say Daddy and I only had $500 to spend on you for Christmas every year. And what if when you’re older you want a new TV or a new computer or jewelry or something? You see, the older you get, you may get less, but really you’re getting more. Does that make sense?”

“I guess. I guess that makes sense.”

We’re quiet for a moment.

“But, ummm, that’s not all I’m getting this year… is it?”

You Can’t Control My Farts

The other night Kali and I were on the couch and Donny was on the love seat. Kali was reading a book and Donny and I were watching Dancing w/ the Stars from the previous night. I was kind of fast forwarding through the commercials and crap and just watching the dancing and the scores. So, while Cameron Mathison performed (he ended up getting eliminated) Donny and I commented on how tight his pants were. It was kind of uncomfortable to watch because no matter what he did my eyes were drawn to either his ass or his crotch.

Donny says, “The judges keep telling Jenni Garth she needs to not lead with her chin, someone needs to tell him to stop leading with his dick.”
“Donny!”

So then I fast forwarded to the next performance and Kali says, “Wait! I wanted to see what the judges said. Did they tell him he stunk? That he needs to go home?”

I laughed and asked Donny if he heard what Kali said. He hadn’t so I repeated it. Then the weirdest thing happened. Donny jumped up off the love seat and started swatting at his chest.

“It wasn’t that funny, Daddy.”

Suddenly something dark flew from his shirt and almost landed on Kali and I, but hit the floor instead. It was a centipede.

Donny runs to get a shoe and kills it. Afterwards, he stood there huffing and puffing while Kali and I stared at him with our mouths open.

“Wow, Daddy. I didn’t know you could jump so high.”

We clowned him for a good five minutes.

Now, last night all thoughts of his unmanly display of athleticism was forgotten as we were both horny and anxious to start some baby making. I’d just finished making dinner when I asked Donny to fix Kali’s plate so I could go take a shower.

He slapped me on the ass and said, “Yeah, you do that so I can….”

“Donny!”

“What?”

“That’s rude.”

“What?!”

“Don’t talk to me like that.”

“What did I say?”

“I’m not repeating it.”

“I said, ‘You do that so I can get all up on you.’”

Oh.

I thought he said, “Yeah, you do that so I can get all up IN you.”

That’s not nice, right?

Later, we’re in bed and my stomach starts rumbling. I start talking in a baby voice and meanwhile Donny is kissing my neck and talking in a deep, husky, I-wanna-get-laid voice.

“Oh boy, my tummy hurts.”

“You want me to leave you alone?”

“No, I want to have sex. I just don’t want to be farting.”

“Oh, you won’t be farting.”

“You can’t control my farts.”

But, see that’s my husband. Whenever people ask me about being married to a younger man I reply that the only noticeable difference is our sex drives. While mine isn’t exactly slow going, I can’t hang with Donny sometimes. I think the man could, and would, have sex every day.

“Not tonight, Donny. My back hurts, I have a headache, a tootache, a tummy ache, and I think there’s some anal leakage.”

“That’s okay. Bend over. You’ll be fine.”

Money Won’t Make You Happy

Bullshit.

You ever notice how it’s always the people who have money, and lots of it, that say some dumb shit like that?

I’ve heard Oprah say several times, “People always think that having money will solve all their problems, but when you get a lot of money you just inherit different problems.”

I kinda get, but I’m not totally buying it. I mean, I know that rich people still have problems. All you have to do is take a look at any of one of the famous people who get married three and four times, or get arrested, or have drug problems, or commit (or try to commit) suicide, etc.

But when you look at us normal folk, people like you and I, who have (so far) made it through life without getting arrested, or having our children taken away, a lot of money would sure be nice right about now, right?

I know money won’t solve all your problems. I mean, you can be fat and hit the lottery tomorrow… but you’ll still be fat. Or stupid. Or lazy. Or depressed… unless you’re depressed about money. You’ll still have bad ass kids that don’t listen or a husband or wife that gets on your nerves. But I bet not having to worry about putting those bad ass kids through college would be appreciated. Knowing that you can afford a vacation away from your pain in the ass spouse may make his/her ass a little easier to put up with.

But no matter what, there is one problem money can fix. Every.fucking.time.

Bills.

What would you do if tomorrow you suddenly won say… $50 million dollars? Now, let’s say it’s a given that we would all pay off any debt, invest, put away for college for our children, etc., so El Supremo nobody wants to hear your boring equations and lectures. This is for fun. So, remember we already know you’d pay off bills, invest, take care of kids’ future. Then what?

Build our dream home. ($$??)
New cars for Donny and I. ($??)
Buy/build my mom a new house and car. ($500,000)
Buy/build my Grandmother a new house. ($500,000)
Buy/build my Stepfather a new house. ($500,000)
Give my Dad and Stepmom the option of getting a new house or paying off their current home. New vehicles for each. ($500,000)
Put my siblings into their own new homes with a vehicle each. ($1 mill.)
Pay for siblings college education. ($???)
Save money for college tuition for niece and nephews ($???)

Donny and I would probably spend the next 3-4 years going to school full time and traveling.

Boy, that was fun.

Money can make you happy. That doesn’t mean it will make you COMPLETELY happy or that it’s the only thing you need. You can have lots of money, but can’t find a decent man to save your life. No, it doesn’t make you completely happy. But it’s a nice damn start.

Yesterday, I got $1,400 I wasn’t expecting at all. And it made my fucking day.

The PJs Made It All Clear

It’s funny how the smallest, seemingly innocent, things can prompt such change in your life. Tara and I were talking earlier today and I was telling her how getting laid off from my good paying job was just about the best thing that could have happened to me when it did. Laid off in August, I didn’t really “think” about what I was doing when I applied for college a few weeks later. Looking back, if I had stopped to really consider what I was doing I probably would have talked myself out of it.

A similiar impulse prompted me to finally decide on going for my Bachelors in Journalism… which I will be doing at the U of GA next year. Woohoo!

This weekend Donny and I made the decision to go through with something we’d been discussing for years. We’re going to start the process for him to legally adopt Kali. When we first discussed doing this years ago, I was told by someone at the child support offices that DJ Spermdonor would have to sign away his legal rights first as I made the dumb decision of putting him on Kali’s birth certificate.

There are have been about two or three times over the years where I’d be so fed up with his latest disappearing act that I would bring it up to him, and he’d deny wanting to sign away his rights and make promises of doing better. Looking back, I don’t believe his resistance to signing such papers had anything to do with his true love for Kali, but rather the need to save face. Even a piece of shit that knows it’s a piece of shit may try to not look like a piece of shit.

Over the past few days I’ve been corresponding with DJ Spermdonor’s ex, Nicole, and she read the blog I’d written about him. Between talking to her and my Dad I realized some things. In particular, something my Dad said to me the other day, “There is something you need to know and believe. Everyone does. And you don’t have to like it, but you just have to believe it. Some people just. don’t. care. Some people do not have the values that you have. They don’t look at things the way you do. They can have a child in another state and not lose a night’s sleep over not being there for them. Just like you can watch Oprah and cry and feel compassion for people going through misery, you need to remember that there are people out there gladly causing that misery. People like Shane.”

Someone asked me if I were embarrassed to write about having a child with such a loser. Not at all. It occurred to me that I had long ago disassociated myself with him being a co-parent. Even when I was in the late stages of my pregnancy I remember having a definite sense of “Kali and Nina against the world.” Remember the daydreams about dancing with my beautiful daughter? There was never a cameo appearance by DJ Spermdonor… he wasn’t even playing the music in the background. He is so far removed from the kind of life I live, the type of parent I am, the type of parent my husband is, that I really don’t think I truly consider him her father. If anything, he’s just made interesting blog fodder for the past two years.

I thought about how he’s always moving around from place to place and realized that Kali has known two homes her whole life and both were nice, safe, and clean. I thought about how I can never get in touch with him because his cell phone is always shut off and realized that we’ve had the same phone number the whole time we’ve been in our home and not once has our phone been shut off. Kali doesn’t know from custody fights and late to no child support payments. And I want to keep it that way.

But for all the reasonable thinking listed above the nail in his parental rights coffin came this Sunday when we were in Walmart… of all places. I wanted to pick up some turtlenecks and a light jacket for Kali. As I browsed through the racks Donny said, “She needs PJs too. Hers are getting too small.” And he headed for the PJs with Kali hot on his heels. As I picked out the shirts I was overcome with this sudden sense of… comfort.

All the man did was mention that our daughter needed new PJs and I felt loved, cared for, lucky, blessed, and happy. There was something really nice in shopping in one part of the store for our daughter while Donny was in another shopping for her as well. How many times have you been out shopping and seen a husband with his wife and kids and he looks like he lost some kind of bet to be there?

The fact that Donny was present and aware of her needs and so willing to meet them makes me love him more. I hadn’t given one thought to her PJ status. He didn’t even have to consult with me for her size or anything. I remember glancing across the store at him and realizing that he’s the same way with her shoes. I can never remember her shoes size. Ever. I always have to measure her feet again if my Mom calls to ask her sizes for her birthday or Christmas. Not Donny.

Donny let Kali pick out a pair of Hannah Montana PJs and then he picked out a cute warm set that he said looked, “Really warm and cozy… perfect for this time of year.”

Now, that’s a father.