Lying to Everyone for Three Months

I fibbed a bunch of times in December. So did Bridget. We fudged the truth even more in January and February. Basically, it was just one big, fat lie after another for three months.

"Want to go out tonight and grab a beer tonight?"

"No," we said. "We're not feeling very well."

"You going to that party?"

"Maybe," we said. "But we're pretty hung over from last night."

Lies. Lies. And more lies.

The hardest part of pregnancy so far -- and please note that this is written from the perspective of a male who hasn't undergone an enormous body alteration -- was not telling anyone we were expecting a little one. We told our families at Christmas and then took a tight-lipped oath for the next 11 weeks. The reason, of course, is that if something bad happened with the baby, we didn't want to have to tell everyone about it.

And man, was it hard to keep my mouth shut. After all, it is the biggest news of our lives.

You have, I believe, eight positive "big news" moments in your life. Think about it:

1. You get into college -- perhaps the one of your dreams. 
2. You get your first job. 
3. You get your dream job. 
4. You get married. 
5. You have your first baby.
6. You have additional babies. (I realize this can happen several times, but the first is likely to draw the biggest response from the world.) 
7. You buy your first home. 
8. You retire.

And unless strange circumstances prevent it, you can share non-baby news as soon as it happens. No one buys a home and starts telling people two months after they've moved in. No one wears an engagement ring for four or five weeks before spreading the news. (This is especially true in the Facebook era when eating brunch on Sunday is cause for tagging, photos, and three status updates.)

But baby news is under wraps until that glorious 12-week mark hits and you're a little further out of the woods. So, I'd just like to take this opportunity to say I'm sorry for lying those 40-50 times from December 16  until a few weeks ago. More specifically:

• Colleagues, I never had those dentist appointments. 
• Bridget held the same half bottle of beer for three straight hours at the company holiday party. (For the record, I drank the first half.)
• Friends who threw that lovely apartment warming party in January, Bridget was home in bed two miles away -- not visiting friends in whatever city I said. 
• Everyone who asked if we were trying to have kids yet, yes, yes we were. And it appears we were successful. 

Phew! It feels great to get this off my chest. I promise I'll never lie again. At least until we start trying for baby No. 2.

I Sold My Car Today

For the first time since I was 16, I am officially carless. There's not a single piece of heavy machinery registered under the name "Michael Briddon" in the state of Massachusetts. No, sir. No ride. No wheels. No whip.

I sold my Nissan today at 10:30 AM as part of our new plan, hatched by my beautiful wife, to pay off all of our debt in 2013. This chunky transaction is going to help me annihilate the rest of my college and graduate school loans. In a word: Boom. In four words: Take that, higher education.

What's amazing is how fast it all happened. On Tuesday, Bridget suggested a creative, aggressive financial plan she'll be discussing in an upcoming post. On Wednesday, we had a family meeting. On Thursday, I agreed.

And just like that, we committed to becoming a one-car family.

We opted to go to CarMax, which I highly recommend if you are looking to get rid of your vehicle. It took exactly 74 minutes from the moment we walked in the door to the moment we walked out with a check in hand. We met with a nice guy named Rob, someone drove my car for two miles, and we left with 500 dollars more than I expected. (They even returned the Explosions in the Sky CD I'd left in the player.) It was that easy.

As we drove away in Bridget's, er, our, car, I expected to feel a moment of panic. Didn't I just give up my freedom? What if I wanted to drive across the country next weekend? What if we got a huge fight about turning the cable off and the only escape was the open road? None of those thoughts, though, gave me pause. Instead, I was excited about paying off my loans and taking another giant leap toward a better financial future.

Plus, there were these reasons:

• We live in Cambridge and every mode of public transportation is minutes away on foot. 
• I was really sick of moving my car for street cleaning. (I'll never forget the day I came home and panicked because I thought our cars were stolen. Two hundred forty bucks later, I had them both back. It wasn't the best night of my life.)
• I don't have to pay an excise tax anymore. I don't really know what it is anyway. Do you? I mean, sure, I could Google it in a few seconds, but I'd rather just be ignorant on this one. Stupid excise tax. 

Are there risks with having only one car? Sure. It could break down. We could get in an accident. We could both want it some Saturday afternoon. But I think the benefits far outweigh the detriments and it's the right decision in the long run.

Just don't tell 16-year-old Mike. He'd think it was a dumb idea. 

The Futility of Spending Limits at Christmas

This is the third Christmas Bridget and I have spent together. And every year, the same question gets tossed around starting in early November: How much should we spend on each other this year?

In our three yuletide seasons, I've learned two very important things:
1. We are great at setting spending limits.
2. We are absolutely horrible at sticking to spending limits.

Now, we always have the best intentions. And we're both fairly resourceful and careful with our cash. But for whatever reason, we really, really suck at this.

Take last year, for example. We set our limit at $200, which seems completely reasonable for a couple. Think of all the great stuff you can get for $200! A little weekend getaway in the winter. Lots of nice, warm, stylish clothes. Tickets to a Celtics game or a concert. There are plenty of options. So, of course, we went with diamond earrings and a vacation to Ireland. The trip, obviously, was way more than $200. And so were the earrings -- that is, until Bridget finds out they are cubic zirconia.

This Christmas, the same thing has happened. Realizing that we took several big trips this year and, you know, got married, we were going to take it easy to the tune of a $100 limit. And we really tried. At least I know I did. I spent a lot of time thinking about it. I looked around online for hours. Heck, I even went to a couple brick-and-mortar stores. (Imagine!) In a nutshell, I failed. Miserably. And while I haven't unwrapped her gift to me, I know she failed miserably, too.

This all leads me to a simple question: Why? Is it because we are greedy people who love material things? No. Is it because, as my friend Jesse said the other day, you really can't buy anything for 100 bucks nowadays? Maybe. Is it because this is the last year we're going to have extra disposable cash? That could be it. (Read: Mothers, Bridget is not pregnant. I repeat: Not pregnant. We're just assuming life will be much different next year. Again, not pregnant.) But I think the real reason is -- and get ready for the corny line here -- we're really, really in love. Getting a gift that is "good enough" just isn't good enough. We both feel the need to go above and beyond.

Will there be years when we can't go nuts with gifts? Probably. Will someone need braces or money for a hospital bill or a college education? Most likely. But those years, when we actually stick to a limit, we'll look back at these years and smile. And then probably find a way to break the limit again.