What My Daughter Owes Me, Part 3

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

(Page 3 of 3)

December 7-Thursday

Just back from the pharmacy.

Seeing as these vitamins are, in fair measure, responsible for the endless gastric distress I have experienced lo these many months-I have absolutely no problem billing for them. And, just for the record, I'm picking up the tab on the Tums.

Now, as for the ding in the fender-the other day, Callie's purchases from Albee's arrived while I was out getting a bagel. When I returned home and pulled the Subaru into the garage, I was so startled to see a pile of large boxes covered with pictures of baby heads stacked in my garage that I temporarily misplaced the brake-or my foot-and drove into a ladder neatly stored along the wall (unlike the chaotic pile of baby-head boxes).

I tend to think I will not bill for this, but I do want it recorded. Would I have hit the ladder if I had returned to find my garage as I had left it-full of carefully arranged grown-up toys and absent of baby-head mayhem? I think not. Enough said.

That brings me to the issue of cord banking-that is, the harvesting of the blood (read: stem cells) from the umbilical cord at the moment of birth. This, it seems to me, is a foolish thing not to do. Imagine (GOD FORBID in capital letters) finding yourself in a situation where you need those precious stem cells and realizing that because you didn't grab the cord when you could you are now going to have to stand by and watch the clock as the country is searched for a match. No. I think there's little choice in this matter.

The only question that does remain is this: Who pays?

Now, Callie could obviously benefit from this little storage plan but so could anyone in her genetically linked family, and if she sees it on her bill and gets the slightest bit agitated about this arrangement I've set up...well, suffice to say, she could get stingy and that could get ugly.

So-I guess I'll cover the initial $1,050. That covers the collection kit, cord-blood processing, maternal blood testing, and the first year of storage.

The ongoing annual storage fee will be discussed at a future date-possibly when Callie is capable of discussing.

December 15-Friday

New tennis shoes have been purchased long before I really needed new tennis shoes because I found myself hobbled by midday yesterday-swollen ankles, puffy feet. I was walking like my water had already broken. It was pathetic.

The shoes are a size 10.

I've never worn a size 10 in my life. I wear an 8½, maybe a 9. I will bestow these shoes upon young Callie at the moment of her birth though I must say, I hope she does not grow into them. Size 10 is big for a girl. I'm hoping her feet are more petite than that. By the by, I'm sorry she didn't have a say as to color or style but the shoes were needed now. There was no time to wait.

I trust this is temporary-this 10 thing. Neither Callie nor I need to be buying a new collection of shoes at present.

January 5-Friday

Before the holidays really get away from us, I have a few observations I would like to put down for the record.

I took it upon myself to drive home to Michigan this Christmas in order to, among other things, bring back my grandfather's cradle. I also wanted to help my mom deal with the real estate broker and get the basement cleared of forty years of accumulation.

You see, Mom's moving east. She's going to buy a house down the street so that Callie will never be tossed off on strangers or into the arms of by-the-hour hired help.

No. Not for Callie. Callie will be with Gramma. Now it could be said I'm going to save a bundle in child care and that may very well be true. But, on the flip side, Callie is going to benefit tenfold from my mother's grace and generosity and my good management and planning.

Which brings me to another point. Obviously, there are enormous costs being incurred as Mom begins the segue from her old life of living alone in the American Midwest and workaholicking herself into a seven-day-a-week work style to her new life in colonial New England as a retiree who will spend some fair portion of her time caring for her one and only grandchild. But she has said nothing of these expenses to me and therefore, I am making no note of them to Callie.

But there is a larger issue at hand here and it has to do with networking. Bear with me.

While home for the holidays, I spent a good amount of time with my old pals Cindy, Tammy, and Diane. We go back to single digits. We've known each other a long time. They have three kids each. They live where we all lived once. Diane actually lives in the house in which she grew up, which (until a recent move by Cindy to a bigger house) was a straight shot out of Cindy's kitchen window. Their kids go to our old schools.

I've lived a very different last twenty years from them but for some inexplicable reason, we can still laugh at the same things. They don't, however, any of them, approve of my plans for the nursery. They wanted to know what colors I'd chosen and how I was planning to decorate. I just kind of looked at them stupid. Then I said, "White. The room is white now and I don't plan to change it."

They looked at me like I was not only insane but also in no small part evil. I tried to explain to them that my house is from the colonial period. It is very simple in design. It wouldn't feel right to gussy up a nursery-type room with that ceiling border ducks-and-balloons wallpaper trim. And to paint the room a soft yellow only to paint it back in a few years seems like a waste on many levels, not the least of which is financial, and that is definitely a cost that would land in Callie's column, and therefore, it should not be incurred until she requests it. So, that's it-the day she says, "Something in a pale yellow, please," we'll hop in the car and make a run to the paint store and not before.

Additionally, it has been my feeling that if you fill a white room with baby-size things, a bed with bars, and a large variety of animals that don't move unless you grab them by the neck and rattle them around while making them talk in funny voices-then that room is going to look like a nursery. And life is proving me out nicely on this point.

Getting to the networking point: Callie made a nice haul over the holidays, particularly when you consider the fact that she doesn't even live here yet and she really doesn't know anyone. Regardless of those handicaps, the girl had a considerable number of packages under the tree-not to mention her own handmade (stuffed to the brim) stocking.

She got: cow shoes; red moccasins; a green velour French pantsuit; a Stuart Little doll with suitcase and pj's; a fur-trimmed hat; a bib, bag, and hat with matching duck design; a train that hooks together magnetically and spells her name; eight hand-me-down outfits in excellent condition; a pair of festive socks; a Tanglewood T-shirt; two signed limited-edition prints (one of a shoe and one of a pacifier); a rubber duckie; and a pair of overalls.

The room looks like a nursery. Trust me.

And why did she get these things? I don't want to belabor my input and/or importance here, but it is because I have amazing friends and that didn't just happen overnight. I have cultivated these friendships over many years. It took a lot of living and wrong turns and right choices and I have chosen well.

My friends are successful, smart, caring, generous people, and Callie is reaping the benefits of those connections. It's called networking and it's a valuable thing. But-and note this, loud and clear-I offer these connections to my beloved daughter free of charge and with a happy heart.

The baby shower is scheduled for January 20.

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.