[title subtitle=”words: Stoney Stamper images: April Stamper”][/title]
Ah, Christmastime. The wonderful time of year when we spend exorbitant amounts of money on toys, clothes, shoes, boots, coats, hats and any number of different electronic devices for our children. You know, to celebrate the birth of our Lord Jesus Christ.
Now, I’ve gone to church all of my life. My grandpa was our preacher, my grandma was my Sunday school teacher, and although sitting still and listening weren’t necessarily my strong points, I’m fairly certain I never heard in Sunday school, or read in the Bible, “Thou shalt go broke on My birthday.” Personally, I don’t think that’s really what the good Lord had in mind when he pictured us celebrating the day of His birth. But, maybe I’m wrong.
This is my fourth Christmas being a dad. Well officially, it is my third Christmas as a dad, but four years ago my wife April and I were dating, and I was willing to do anything to make her girls like me. So, with April’s help, I bought my first Christmas presents for Abby and Emma. I was so nervous, and wanted so badly to make sure that whatever I got them, they would love. I had this vision in my head of how it would happen. I would buy them something that would cause them to rejoice in jubilation upon opening it. They would be so happy that they’d cry.
That’s not how it happened. At all. April tells me I have way too high expectations, in everything I do. And I imagine she’s right, but I read something when I was a little boy that has served me well, mostly all of my life. Sam Walton, founder of Walmart, said, “High expectations are the key to everything.” I’ve lived my whole life by that code. I mean, he’s Sam freakin’ Walton. You should probably pay attention to what he has to say. Except for maybe when it’s in reference to buying your soon-to-be-daughter’s Christmas presents. In that instance, you should probably keep your expectations pretty darn low. Especially if one of them is Abby, because that girl doesn’t get excited about much.
On that Christmas, she opened her gifts, faintly smiled, and then looked away. We hadn’t really established any trust yet, and she was still skeptical of me. My feelings were crushed. It wasn’t her fault. She was just a little girl. But, it still felt like a straight jab to the kidney. Because I had high expectations.
A lot of water has run under the bridge since then. Abby and Emma have long since accepted me as a “dad” figure in their life. Along with the love and comfort that we have with each other comes the expectation of the material things a dad should provide his kids. A few years ago, Abby wouldn’t even tell me what she wanted if I begged her. Now, she asks for everything. I’m talking EVERY thing. And holy cripes, this stuff is expensive!
I think back on what Christmas was like for me in the past. Before I had the girls. I pretty much had to get my mom and dad gifts, and then my nephews, Braden and Joby. And a lot of the time, I would give my sister money, and I’d just pitch in on whatever she got for them. Christmas wasn’t too difficult, nor was it terribly expensive.
Until the last few years, I had never heard of a Lalaloopsy doll, a Flutterby Fairy, a Monster High doll, or a $200 American Girl doll that needed to get her ears pierced and hair done – IT’S A DOLL! I vaguely knew what Miss Me jeans were, or UGG boots or TOMS shoes, and I dang sure didn’t know how much they cost.
I’ll admit I was unprepared for how expensive having children was, no matter how much my parents, my sister and all of my friends told me. I thought to myself, I make a good living. And, for some reason, I assumed that having children wouldn’t be such a huge adjustment. I’ll tell you now, I was a blaring idiot. I had no idea.
April has always done a great job of providing the girls with the things they want. Still, I like buying the girls things that they like, and things they will use. Maybe it’s that manly need to provide for my family. I don’t want to spoil them, but I enjoy the fact that I’m able to give them what they need.
With that being said, when I have spent hard-earned money on something that they “needed,” but they never wore it, or never used it, or didn’t even know where in the Sam Hill it was, my brain spiraled off into a realm of frustration that hasn’t even been discovered yet.
When Sadie, the American Girl doll, that we made a special trip to Dallas for, spent the night at the Galleria Mall for, bought a soccer outfit and a horse for, sits in the closet and doesn’t get played with, then I definitely begin to question my decisions. I know that I’m not alone. I mean, they didn’t build that gigantic American Girl doll store only off the money they made from me. That place was packed. I spent $250 total. And there were fifty more poor daddies there at the same time as me, doing the exact same thing. Because we love to make our girls happy. We love that look that says, Oh, thank you, Dad. I love you. Even if we spend too much. Then, if only for a moment, it feels like it may have been worth it.
My best bet is not to focus on the amount of money I have spent on clothes, or dolls, or iPads, or iPods or shoes. Because when I realize that Emma’s favorite toys are an old wooden set of crutches that April bought for her for ten dollars at a flea market and a cardboard box from a new toilet that I had to install in our guest bathroom, it may require me to revisit some of the focused breathing techniques we learned in our birthing class right before we had our daughter Gracee. And when I go into Abby’s closet, and find clothes that she just had to have, that never get worn, and very well may still have the tags on them, then that prescription for antianxiety meds I have sitting in the medicine cabinet is going to be put to the test.
The very reason for this story comes from our friend, Alexis. She has two kids, and her daughter Katie is Emma’s best friend. They are inseparable. Katie spends a lot of time at our house, and Emma spends a lot of time at hers. Katie has a remote control dog, and Emma has been begging us to get her one just like it. There’s only one problem: it’s a piece of crap. Alexis says it’s worthless, and her kids never play with it. Even though it cost $75. It was a complete waste of money, and the kids had not touched it since Emma left. You know what they played with instead of the $75 robot dog? A Walmart sack. They slapped and hit a plastic Walmart sack into the air, over and over, not letting it hit the ground. That was the whole game. Don’t let the bag touch the ground! They didn’t need expensive toys. They didn’t need expensive clothes, or shoes, or anything else. All they needed was a sack!
With all this new information, my Christmas shopping list just got a whole lot cheaper, and Daddy’s checking account just got a whole lot fatter. Forget the designer jeans and the fancy toys. Forget the iPhone 6 or North Face jacket. We’re going to stock them up with grocery sacks, toilet boxes (other large boxes, if toilet boxes not available), and some old ACE bandages. I’ll let them both watch TV in April and my bedroom twice a week. Because when it comes right down to it, those are the things that seem to be most important to them. And I like that. Because, hell, that’s cheap. And Daddy likes it when things are cheap.
Unless it’s for my stuff, of course. I don’t like cheap stuff.
Stoney Stamper is the author of the popular parenting blog, The Daddy Diaries. He and his wife April have three daughters: Abby, Emma and Gracee. Originally from northeast Oklahoma, the Stampers now live in Tyler, Texas. For your daily dose of The Daddy Diaries, visit Stoney on Facebook or on his website, thedaddydiaries.net.
