"Going to a junkyard is a sobering experience. There you can see the ultimate destination of almost everything we desired." —Roger Von Oech, A Wack On The Side of the Head

I read this the other day and have since been trying to keep it in mind as Christmas creeps closer and closer and my bank account gets lower and lower. It seems that once you have a child there is so much pressure on you as a parent to perform in many areas, and acquiring "stuff" is a big one.

It was at the mall last night, where I was desperately searching for "stuff" to buy for Adrian, that this quote helped me the most.

Looking at rocket ships, dinosaurs, train sets — all overpriced — and parents stumbling over one another to have them; I thought about all of the toys that Adrian has had since he's been born. Then I thought about where they all ended up: either broken and in the garbage or outdated and donated.

We don't have tons of money, at all. Levi is still not contributing and as Adrian's birthday is so close to Christmas I'm still stuck playing a little bit of catch up from that.

As much as I'd like to, I simply can't afford to have a dozen presents under the tree and besides which, are these monetary, materialistic values the type that I'd like to instill in my son, anyhow? The answer is no.

It took a bit of reasoning with myself but I'm feeling okay with it now. Adrian is getting four presents from me (well, two Santa gets the credit for) and we will spend the rest of the day basking in each other's company — and maybe playing in the snow.

Christmas will be about more than gifts. It will also be about appreciating each other and strengthening the bond of our family.

I wish you all a very happy holiday.

Faith

If we took all the parents whose kids will be going with the other side of the family this holiday and put them all in once place, we'd probably have to ask the NFL to give up half their stadiums for a day. Talk about the perfect dating-after-divorce opportunity!

Seriously...parents who end up alone on a holiday are an awkward lot. If it's you, it's easy to fall into feeling sorry for yourself. Lonely, absurd...all the possible uncomfortable words can apply.

Stop it! The kids have it much worse. They are human ping-pong balls expected to pop back and forth between allegiances seamlessly. They don't want to be doing this, either. Trying to please everybody is a royal pain.

Here are 5 attitude adjusters to get you through if you will be solo without your kids for the holiday:

1. For a very short window you have no responsibility...this will pass quickly use it wisely — it's a gift.

2. You can lay on the couch for absolutely no reason, not make your bed, throw your towels on the floor, leave dishes in the sink — everything you tell them not to do — without guilt. Until they return.

3. You can go wherever you want, with whomever you want, and do whatever you want and not have to be home until they come back.

4. You can hit the road and be an adventurous visitor to people you never have time to catch up with.

5. Kids are telegrams for family gossip — you'll get all the latest dirt about everything and everybody when they return.

Critical reminder: It takes kids a few days once they get home to come back from loyalty to the other side. It's not you...give them a break.

Leave me a comment saying "solo on the on holiday"...and I'll drop you one back...because my kid's going with her dad and I get it.

Email Debbie anytime: [email protected]

Okay, so Peter from Pelham never panned out. But the hits, they keep on coming, complete with lots of pep talk ("we're excited you're interested in Joe The Plumber!) and mumbo jumbo about my chemistry profile: it seems I'm a negotiator/explorer who is gracious, enthusiastic, and flexible (why thank you very much) who would have "jolly times" and "hearty laughs" with my matches.

And so far, I certainly have had some hearty laughs over their idea of my matches. I couldn't have been clearer that I'm a card carrying, blue state, bleeding heart liberal. If there had been a box that said Would Bear Obama's Children, I would have checked it. So why is chemistry.com sending me so many conservatives?

Or liars, like Wayne, who billed himself as being 53: "I'm a creative, caring, and passionate renaissance man who is 68 chronologically, but 53 in mind, energy, and spirit."

And Stuart, with his "cool Riverside pad" who is "looking for a lifelong romp or casual encounters." He too admits to being 57, but says he "looks 45."

Then there are the scary, grammatically challenged guys like the 6'4" correction guard, who presents himself like this, verbatim: "Just a nice guy looking for a companion friend at first...Not into liars, cheats, or game players. Trust is big in any type of relationship. I don't {like}people who will do certain things just to curb their curiosity. If your (sic) a person willing to have an affair with a married person then your (sic) a cheat even if you say you love them. I don't like liars and cheats your (sic) hurting alot of people when you do. I like up front and honest people who don't play with your emotions." EEK! More than a little angry?

I wonder if men would change their behavior if they could be a woman for just one day.

This thought occurred to me as I was walking in downtown New York this morning.

Still in my pajamas, donning a big, billowy winter coat and hat with a cup of coffee in my hand waiting for the walk sign, a man stops his car at the light, rolls down the window and shouts, "Yeah, baby" and "I'd like to get a piece of that."

His hollering then provokes the other cat callers in the neighborhood, and trust me, there are enough of them.

Yuck.

All I feel is gross and embarrassed as I try to quickly scurry up the block.

And how else should anyone feel?

Do these people actually expect me to feel flattered? Does that man think that just maybe I'll approach his car window and give him my phone number — or even the time of day?

What's even more shocking is that this kind of behavior is everywhere. It's in the cities, the country, it's even in other countries. The fact that it's so prevalent leads me to believe one of two things: One, that someway, somehow this kind of behavior gets desirable results. Meaning that this kind of talk works on some women. Or, two, these people are just stupid — or worse. I don't know.

All I do know for sure is that now that I'm single, men not only look at me differently, they treat me differently. If I had been walking down the street with Levi this morning, nobody would have dared to say anything. (I wish I could say the same if I were walking with my two year old son, but unfortunately, a child doesn't deter them.)

I guess I had forgotten what it's like to be a single girl out there.

I'm not sure I like it.

On the First Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

Where the hell is my Alimony?

On the Second Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

I have two boxing gloves

Where the hell is my Alimony?

On the Third Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

There are three den leaks

I have two boxing gloves

Where the hell is my Alimony?


On the Fourth Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

I have four bawling kids

Three den leaks

Two boxing gloves

Where the hell is my Alimony?

On the Fifth Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

I have FIVE BRAND NEW FLINGS!!! (yeah baby)

Four bawling kids

Three den leaks

Two boxing gloves

Where the hell is my Alimony?


On the Sixth Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

I have six lawyers preying

FIVE BRAND NEW FLINGS!!! (yeah baby)

Four bawling kids

Three den leaks

Two boxing gloves

Where the hell is my Alimony?

On the Seventh Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

I have seven accountants skimming

Six lawyers preying

FIVE BRAND NEW FLINGS!!! (yeah baby)

Four bawling kids

Three den leaks

Two boxing gloves

Where the hell is my Alimony?


On the Eighth Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

I have eight shrubs a wilting

Seven accountants skimming

Six lawyers preying

FIVE BRAND NEW FLINGS!!! (yeah baby)

Four bawling kids

Three den leaks

Two boxing gloves

Where the hell is my Alimony?

On the Ninth Day Of Christmas my Ex Wife wrote to me

Kids have nine dancing lessons

My in-laws come for Christmas next week. It's not my holiday, Christmas, and I despise the excess of it, but I'm a sucker for tradition. Also, the tree smells nice.

It matters to me that my girls keep the customs of their grandmothers and their grandmothers and their grandmothers before. That they remain linked, and that they understand all the cultures that made them.

I can share only half, the Jewish rituals passed down through my people. So, I'll make potato latkes and spin the dreidel with them, light the menorah each night and teach them the blessings.

But I'm grateful Sam's parents can visit with their red velvet cake and, hopefully, stories waking up Christmas morning when they were kids. Pass down what I can't.

I bitch about Sam's parents, resent the "stuff" passed on to him and so to me, because it happens this way: what you do not deal with, the problems you don't stand down, they don't disappear, they are passed to the next generation.

Merry Christmas.

There's a present for you. No, for real.

I'm looking at it as a gift this year, an opportunity to better understand why Sam is who he is. To understand why I chose him as my partner, and after leaving him, why I made the same choice again.

Some people say we marry our parents; another perspective is we partner with people who present a chance to work where we need it most. We seek, not only what we know, but what we know will force us to grow.

And we go back until the lesson is learned.

What I've learned: I'm not going to change Sam's family. No matter what I do, no matter what truth I try to shock them with, they will never get real. They will always avoid the uncomfortable and when the small talk plays out, 99 times out of 100 they'll choose silence over depth.

Adrian's birthday is on Saturday. I'm going to have a party with my friends and family to celebrate on Sunday, but for his actual birthday I have planned for the two of us to spend a fun filled day together.

I mean really, its just been the two of us on this journey, so it seems right.

We're going to Manhattan to see a Dora the Explorer show — his favorite — and then I plan on taking him around to see some sights; the tree at Rockefeller center, to start with.

I can't tell you how excited I am for this day. Can't really express in words how much it means to me to see my little baby turning two. This has been quite the adventure so far. So many good times turned into wonderful, amazing memories; and I'm certain that there will be so many more to come. 

It's times like these, times when I start to reminiscence on all that has taken place over the last two years — from first foods, to first smiles, to first steps, to first words...all the firsts — that I have a hard time feeling anything but absolute pity for Levi. 

I must admit that there have been times, like where I've worked a 12 hour day, that I have been jealous beyond belief that Levi is seemingly living it up in Los Angeles. Jealous that he can sleep in, or take a shower when he wants to, or see a movie, or go for a walk, or out for dinner, or do any of the things you can do when you don't have any real responsibilities.

But now, when the jealousy comes I simply ask myself, would you trade any of the last two years for that?

The answer, of course, is no. I would never.

I am, simply put, totally ga-ga over my boy and probably more excited than he is for his special day.

Happy Birthday, Adrian!