Sugar Baby
/They say the only certain things in life are death and taxes. I'm not quite sure who 'They' is, but it sounds official enough to be true.
Which is what my husband and I were discussing over our morning coffee as he went through our finances, prepping for the upcoming tax season and I sat beside him reading Facebook status updates and TMZ posts.
(This basically sums up our relationship. He is serious and gets things done while I like shiny things and am easily distracted by links on the internet. Like a raven with fingers and free wifi.)
As he talked mumbo jumbo about financial net worth, alternative investments, options and charitable donations, I tried to show him how my hair really does look like Justin Bieber's.
Apparently his desire to pay for his children's post secondary university trumps my desire to not look like an asexual, high pitched male pop diva.
Go figure.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I'm not concerned about how much university is going to cost us. It's been on my mind since I discovered I was pregnant with my second kid only four months after giving birth to my first. It's like we were determined to bankrupt our future selves as we happily procreated premaritally.
But we've spent the last 16 plus years struggling to make ends meet and well, somehow, more or less, we've always managed to find a way. Some times we were poorer than other times and sometimes we were a chin whisker away from destitute but we never starved. I would rather put my rose coloured glasses on and assume the same will hold true when both Fric and Frac look to us for tuition help.
My husband dislikes my rose coloured glasses. Literally as well as figuratively.
So Boo continued to plan and fret and I continued to ignore and evade and harmony was brought to the marital land once more.
Until our daughter walked in the room.
"Hey. What are you guys doing?" she innocently asked.
"I'm trying to figure out a way to put food in your mom's belly while sending you to medical school," Boo replied without looking up from his sheath of papers.
"And I'm trying to figure out a way to meet Gerard Butler. I hear he's kind of a dirty dawg but that accent of his gets me every time."
Fric blinked a few times and then (wisely) chose to ignore me and focused on her father. From there they launched into a strategy session involving scholarships, part time jobs and investments, while I followed one Internet rabbit hole after another, clicking link after link.
Eventually, like Alice and her rabbit hole, I landed somewhere fascinating.
"Hey look at this! I found a way for Fric and Frac to pay for their educations and it won't cost us a dime Boo!"
Boo looked at me suspiciously, (apparently he knows how my mind works,) but my sweet child eagerly asked what I found.
"A sugar daddy site! You just agree to be their sugar baby and they'll pay for everything!"
It was right about then that my husband started choking on his coffee.
"Um, that's called prostitution Tanis."
"Well sure, if you want to be all dirty about it. But the site says it's legal and above board and no sex is involved. It's for real romance. Between a sugar daddy and his sugar baby," I responded tartly, indignant that my husband would even suggest I'd pimp out my kid to avoid tuition costs.
Meanwhile, Fric was reading the fine print.
"Or you know Tanis, she could just get a JOB."
"Sure. Because that's fun. Anything involving sugar sounds fun." I demonstrated by jumping up and singing Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar on Me while playing my air guitar.
"Not cute, Tanis," he said when I was done.
"A little cute," I replied while holding my fingers an inch apart. He cracked a smile.
And that's why we are still married.
"I think I'd feel a little more comfortable with a little less sugar when it comes to how my kids will pay for their university costs," he sighed.
"Fine. Be the voice of reason," I muttered as I flopped back down to close the browser page.
"Wait Mom, did you bookmark that site?" Fric asked.
"Um no. Why?"
"Well it could come in handy. You know, in the future."
Her dad groaned.
Fric looked at him and smiled. "Don't worry Dad. I'm just thinking ahead. I've got some time. We'll talk about it in two years."
He couldn't quite tell if she was teasing him or not.
"Besides, it could very well be this or twirling the pole, you know," she tossed out nonchalantly as she walked out of the room, leaving me alone with her father.
He just glowered at me.
"What? YOU were the one who left me alone to raise YOUR babies. You didn't think I'd rub off just a little?"
I couldn't quite make out what he was muttering under his breath but instinct tells me it wasn't very nice.
Some people's children, I tell you.
Which is what my husband and I were discussing over our morning coffee as he went through our finances, prepping for the upcoming tax season and I sat beside him reading Facebook status updates and TMZ posts.
(This basically sums up our relationship. He is serious and gets things done while I like shiny things and am easily distracted by links on the internet. Like a raven with fingers and free wifi.)
As he talked mumbo jumbo about financial net worth, alternative investments, options and charitable donations, I tried to show him how my hair really does look like Justin Bieber's.
Apparently his desire to pay for his children's post secondary university trumps my desire to not look like an asexual, high pitched male pop diva.
Go figure.
Don't get me wrong. It's not that I'm not concerned about how much university is going to cost us. It's been on my mind since I discovered I was pregnant with my second kid only four months after giving birth to my first. It's like we were determined to bankrupt our future selves as we happily procreated premaritally.
But we've spent the last 16 plus years struggling to make ends meet and well, somehow, more or less, we've always managed to find a way. Some times we were poorer than other times and sometimes we were a chin whisker away from destitute but we never starved. I would rather put my rose coloured glasses on and assume the same will hold true when both Fric and Frac look to us for tuition help.
My husband dislikes my rose coloured glasses. Literally as well as figuratively.
So Boo continued to plan and fret and I continued to ignore and evade and harmony was brought to the marital land once more.
Until our daughter walked in the room.
"Hey. What are you guys doing?" she innocently asked.
"I'm trying to figure out a way to put food in your mom's belly while sending you to medical school," Boo replied without looking up from his sheath of papers.
"And I'm trying to figure out a way to meet Gerard Butler. I hear he's kind of a dirty dawg but that accent of his gets me every time."
Fric blinked a few times and then (wisely) chose to ignore me and focused on her father. From there they launched into a strategy session involving scholarships, part time jobs and investments, while I followed one Internet rabbit hole after another, clicking link after link.
Eventually, like Alice and her rabbit hole, I landed somewhere fascinating.
"Hey look at this! I found a way for Fric and Frac to pay for their educations and it won't cost us a dime Boo!"
Boo looked at me suspiciously, (apparently he knows how my mind works,) but my sweet child eagerly asked what I found.
"A sugar daddy site! You just agree to be their sugar baby and they'll pay for everything!"
It was right about then that my husband started choking on his coffee.
"Um, that's called prostitution Tanis."
"Well sure, if you want to be all dirty about it. But the site says it's legal and above board and no sex is involved. It's for real romance. Between a sugar daddy and his sugar baby," I responded tartly, indignant that my husband would even suggest I'd pimp out my kid to avoid tuition costs.
Meanwhile, Fric was reading the fine print.
"Or you know Tanis, she could just get a JOB."
"Sure. Because that's fun. Anything involving sugar sounds fun." I demonstrated by jumping up and singing Def Leppard's Pour Some Sugar on Me while playing my air guitar.
"Not cute, Tanis," he said when I was done.
"A little cute," I replied while holding my fingers an inch apart. He cracked a smile.
And that's why we are still married.
"I think I'd feel a little more comfortable with a little less sugar when it comes to how my kids will pay for their university costs," he sighed.
"Fine. Be the voice of reason," I muttered as I flopped back down to close the browser page.
"Wait Mom, did you bookmark that site?" Fric asked.
"Um no. Why?"
"Well it could come in handy. You know, in the future."
Her dad groaned.
Fric looked at him and smiled. "Don't worry Dad. I'm just thinking ahead. I've got some time. We'll talk about it in two years."
He couldn't quite tell if she was teasing him or not.
"Besides, it could very well be this or twirling the pole, you know," she tossed out nonchalantly as she walked out of the room, leaving me alone with her father.
He just glowered at me.
The apple off of my tree.
"What? YOU were the one who left me alone to raise YOUR babies. You didn't think I'd rub off just a little?"
I couldn't quite make out what he was muttering under his breath but instinct tells me it wasn't very nice.
Some people's children, I tell you.