What My Daughter Owes Me, Part 2

Callie's Tally: An Accounting of Baby's First Year
by Betsy Howie

(Page 2 of 3)

Even without a baby, he-assuming all God's blessings on both of us-will die first. And then I will be left alone. I don't want to be left. Not like that. Not without warning and so irreversibly. Better to just cut the tie myself, gather up a lot of cats, and get wacky and eccentric in a slow way.

Control issues? Maybe.

There are other things about him that are a challenge, too. For example, he comes to the table with preexisting conditions, such as familial ties that could choke a horse. And there's also the fact that on some days, he seems a bit too fond of the jar, as it were. And on all days, he's got a cash-flow problem. Did I mention he's a great playwright?

When Lonnie and I first got together, I remember telling my friend Rodney about him and Rodney said, "Geez, I hope it works out 'cause he sounds like a catch." It was clear that Rodney was being facetious and I don't want the whole world to walk away with that opinion. There are reasons that I am with Lonnie and there are reasons to consider him a wonderful possible dad. The man is brilliant. He's an artist and a teacher and I've never seen anything like it, the way he gives to his students. He's dangerously charming and looks really good in fine clothing that, as a result of his dangerous charm, he has been able to obtain over the course of his travels. He would also like me to mention his culinary talents and that nine times out of ten, he does the grocery shopping and ten times out of ten he does the dishes.

We can both get nutty and we tend to fight viciously, but mostly I like this life we've set up. I like our house, I like our cats, I like the work we do and the fun we have. And all of it is about to change. Forever.

Sometimes, I can see it all, how it lies before me. And I know that I am going to die. Not now but I will and that's really upsetting because I don't want to die. Not ever. Even when I'm feeling like one lonely raw nerve ending, I want more.

I don't understand why we get invited to this party if we're not going to be allowed to stay. I want to stay. I want to stay and I want to dance all night.

This is no great leap from the baby question. It's all about not being left alone and not really dying and recreating youth. Isn't it? And yet, you can't help but recognize that having a baby is as much a giant step toward the cliff's edge as burying your grandmother. In fact, maybe even more so because it's not just a case of one less person in front of you to block your way-now there's actually someone behind you who could decide to push.

I don't want to be pushed and I don't want to fall and I won't leap. I just really don't want to go. I want to stay at the party. Forever.

Clearly, I am still not one of those women.

But even I can see that there's very little point in asking these questions anymore. What will be will be. I have exerted my last bit of control. I got pregnant. I no longer answer questions. Questions answer themselves.

1. Can I handle it physically? I don't know. We'll see.
2. Do I have the patience for the job? I don't know. We'll see.
3. Can I still have my career and take care of a baby? I don't know. We'll see.
4. Will I be able to sidestep my own neuroses, negativity, and compulsions enough to raise a slightly healthy human being? I don't know. We'll see.
5. Do I have enough money? I don't know. Hmm.

Start-up Costs

Original Sum (The Debt You're Born With)

December 1-Friday

I spent $614.96 on my daughter yesterday. She is now officially an American. She has stuff and she is in debt.

Her name is Callie. She's not born yet. She'll show up in March. I'm not suggesting that she has to pay me back right away but eventually...

I mean, I'm not going to use this stuff and she did make me puke for five months straight so it's not like I haven't already given of myself. Anyway, regardless of whatever payment schedule she decides to arrange, I think it's a good idea to start a tally since eighteen years is a long time to remember. It's always best to keep notes.

So...

I'm doing my shopping at Albee's up on Amsterdam because it's where everyone shops. Albee's doesn't have everything; they just have the stuff they've decided is best, which is good because the research on the many thousands of items I'm told I need is becoming overwhelming and I really don't want to start billing Callie for time yet. Billing for hours at this point seems somewhat subjective and unfair since she isn't here to approve the expense. Again, I want it understood that I'm only charging for those items that are mandatory. Later, when she starts requesting optional items, I'll bill for those. But that will be fair since she will have approved the expenditure.

Here's the rule-I ask this question: Would I be spending this money if the baby didn't exist? Yes? She doesn't get billed. No? The kid owes. It's simple.

Anyway, Agnes, the woman who works at Albee's, just found out three days ago that her daughter is pregnant and although she's none too amused, she is already deciding which items she'll be purchasing for her grandchild and so, I'm just getting Callie everything that Agnes will be getting for her grandchild. It seems like the most reliable and efficient research I could do.

To tell you the truth, I think Agnes is actually adjusting nicely to her daughter's news. She would just prefer it if she were married. I tried to comfort her by telling her I'm not married either. She smiled a little at that. Her eyes widened and she nodded once to the side. But in the end, I'm not sure she was exactly comforted.

Anyway, about the McClaren 2000-they say it's the Cadillac among the strolling set.

December 2-Saturday

I've decided I should include medical bills. Here's my thinking-I wouldn't be going to the gyno every four weeks if it weren't for Callie. And all those tests and scans-they really are hers.

See, the doctor said, when they found those three fibroids during the second ultrasound, that 50 percent of women have them but they never know it because they're not scanning their uteruses on a regular basis. So there you go, it's that simple-most women don't have these procedures unless they're knocked up. Therefore, it's a Callie expense.

And by the way, I'm only including those things that are not covered by insurance. I'm not looking to make a profit here, just an accurate accounting for future payment-no interest charged.

In reviewing medical bills, I have come across a few other early expenses that I consider viable for inclusion.

I want to point out something-I am not charging rent and Callie is definitely in my space. I see little difference between what's going on in my body and what goes on in apartment buildings across America. My body is not currently available for my use and/or pleasure and yet, I am not asking for a dime. I just wanted that stated for the record in case anyone is thinking this approach is harsh and/or unfair to the unborn.

It's time for all of us to wake up. We've already raised three generations, at least, who are in serious personal entitlement overdrive. I want Callie to be better than that. I want her to know how to take care of herself. I want her to know how much life costs and what things are worth. I want her to know what she's worth.

I would also like to get some money back.

Copyright © October 2002, J. P. Tarcher, a member of Penguin Putnam, Inc., used by permission.

About the Author

Betsy Howie is a playwright, actress, and the author of the novel Snow.