The Mamahood

Marriage Boot Camp

I think every married couple should be forced to go to a wedding every few months. Not so they can prop up the wedding-industrial complex with multiple purchases of pricey china or brush up on their Macarena skills (no one should be forced into that fate). But I always find myself, in the midst of watching the couple tie the knot, taking a long, hard look at my mate and my relationship—and realizing that I'm taking so much for granted.

I am a lucky woman. I have been married for nearly 11 years to my best friend—a fabulous man. He's sweet, he's smart, he has wide-ranging interests. He's a self-taught guitarist and chef, an amazing dad, a triathlete. And a mild-mannered copy editor by day. And he's mine.

But too often, I focus on the little things that drive me crazy. The constant mentions of the "vortex" that he claims sucks keys, t-shirts and other items in (though eventually, apparently, the vortex spits them back to me). The laid-back attitude which often leads to lateness. And the giant stack of magazines and videos piled up in our basement. 

In the constant rush and clamor of our crazy life with two kids, two careers, two cats and one wild dog, we often fail to set aside time as a couple, to laugh and have fun, to go on actual dates. It's a real fault in our marriage.

But at a wedding, I recommit myself to accentuating the positive, to trying harder to make our marriage stronger. To realizing I'm not exactly Miss Perfect myself. And as I slow dance with my husband (I've long since given up even asking him to Macarena), I fall in love with him, just as he is, all over again.

Momcation Fail

I love being a wife and mother. Almost all of the time. Even when it involves settling arguments and cleaning spills, crayon on the wall and worse. But once in a while, a girl needs a break, if only to recharge, sleep in, drink wine and maybe clean out the basement.

I had golden dreams of just such a time this past weekend (the first time in at least two years I've been given such an opportunity. TWO. YEARS. ). I had brunch plans with a friend. Thoughts of a luxurious morning in bed. Maybe a stop at my favorite ice cream place.

And then, right as my husband was about to leave with the girls, he comes home to find my oldest sobbing, with a 102 degree temperature, on my lap. And me, about to sob right along with her.

My husband did try to give me something akin to it. I did get to sleep in. I did get some time off (to visit the farmer's market, and weed our gardens). But it's not the same.

Fortunately, we're planning to try again in a few weeks. Until then, I'll limp along, dreaming of the momcation that could have been.

Our Love Is Here to Stay

We cannot remember how we met. We only know that we've known each other for more than half of our lifetimes, and that it took several years before we went beyond buddies and co-editors and figured out that there might be something more there. And there certainly was.

Ten years ago today, I said "I do" to a lifetime of Star Wars, oddball politics and searching around for my husband's perpetually lost keys, IDs and wallets. (These were the vows I should have taken, instead of the traditional ones.) We have been through richer and poorer, sickness and health. We've had incredible adventures and long stretches of blissfully mundane everyday life. 

But 10 years ago, I had probably one of the most wonderfully perfect days. On a sunny and warm September day, we were surrounded by our favorite people in the whole wide world as we promised to share our life together. There was fabulous food, great music and amazing flowers. And we looked pretty good, too—even if we performed one of the most awkward first dances I've ever seen. I wish I had memorized that entire day from beginning to end, but the moments that do stand out for me—my husband-to-be beaming away at me as I walked down the aisle, a charming toast, giggling through the photo session with our bridal party—are the kinds of memories that can help you through, when you're facing that "worse" instead of the "better."

Tonight, we'll celebrate our anniversary with our daughters, over a feast of takeout sushi and champagne (for us, not the girls). We'll look through our albums and play our videos, and reminisce about the young, hopeful couple we were back then. I know our life's path has diverged in ways large and small from what we envisioned on that warm September day, but it's been an absolutely wonderful ride so far. And I just can't wait to see what lies ahead.

Making House Calls

My husband is awesome. Heroic, in fact. Since we had to give up the cleaning lady (a sad day for us all), he has stepped up to the plate, ensuring our house stays in some semblance of order while I work while the working's good.

And since he gets paid if he takes sick days, and I do not, he sacrificed his nice, quiet day at work yesterday to stay home and care for not one, but two sick children.

 And while I do appreciate (immensely) everything he does, I just have one teensy request. Do. Not. Call. Me. At. Work. When I am home all day with the girls, I might e-mail him a little bon mot or two, or call him one time if the girls are clamoring for daddy, or if we require more milk or something from the store and he needs to stop on the way home.

But yesterday, I received a LOT of calls...everything from where the medication is stored to how to handle a customer service call that came in. While I appreciate being kept abreast of the situation at home, especially because it involved a very rare, "i really feel sick and have a fever" day from my oldest, I was trying to get work done...not that I didn't appreciate the opportunity to give my daughter a kiss over the phone.

Is this a guy thing? Do all of your husbands all require a greater degree of input from you to manage a day with the kids than you do from him?

It's the most wonderful time of the year...

At least, as far as my husband's concerned (if only there was noncandy loot involved). Every year, he waits with bated breath to see what horror movie marathons various movie channels are planning (even though he has all the good ones in his library), helps plot out his daughters' costumes, and engages in our annual debate over whether to go with his type of Halloween decor (the oozier and ghoulier the better), and mine (something that won't give the children nightmares until Christmas).

Finally, though, last year, he saw that I had a method behind my seeming madness. We took our daughter trick or treating in a neighborhood that took Halloween seriously. Many houses were preschooler-friendly—but there were two homes that weren't. At one, you walked through a creepy gateway and received candy from a monster-masked man. I was a bit taken aback myself, and shocked that my daughter would dare to step up—guess she really wanted that Reece's cup. Another house had been eliciting screams that echoed up and down the block. As we approached, the lady of the house stepped out to tell us that we shouldn't walk up to the house, but it was too late. My daughter saw the monster man hiding under the car. And that was all she talked about for the rest of the day. And the day after that. And the day after that. Aaaaaand the day after that.

 And so this year, it's a pumpkin and leaf extravaganza at our house (with an occasional friendly ghost or witch). Totally safe for the most timid toddler.

Sleeping Solo...

While Paul and Linda McCartney famously spent only one night apart, I don't think there's anything wrong with a little alone time in a marriage...even if that comes while you're sleeping. While generally, our king-sized, fancy "back-comfort" bed is usually big enough for the both of us, tonight I might be looking for a little nook to rest my head, if only to escape my husband's cold-induced snoring.

But I'm not sure if I'm cool with the concept of officially sleeping apart from my husband...even if that'd mean I'd get a closet to myself. Once in a while, if someone's especially sick, tired or angry, I'd be cool with it. But on a permanent, "let's call in the decorator to do up our separate beds" basis, that'd seem rather lonely.

Bringing Home the Bacon

According to a new poll, men aren't as eager these days to take on the breadwinner role solo, and more men wouldn't mind if their wives brought home more bacon than they did. And since just a few years ago, the media were trumpeting that men feel emasculated if they don't make as much money as their wives (which is complete and utter bunk, in my opinion), it's pretty big news.

It makes me wonder what life will be like for our kids...will they usher in when most men serve as stay-at-home dads, nurturing the little ones while the women conquer the corporate world?

Suburban Sex Lives

Today, I received my first invitation to a sex toy party. Before you get any ideas about the kind of antics that go on in our little corner of suburbia, this isn't a party where you actually use the goods: Instead, it's a modern-day Tupperware-style party, where they show off the products, and you place your order to stock your boudoir.

And while I'm glad that my circle of friends would rather stock up on edible underwear instead of plastic pitchers or scented candles, I'm not sure I'd want to attend a party which involves any sort of contemplation or revelation of what my friends do behind closed doors. (That's only slightly less skeevy than thinking of my parents getting it on.)

Still not sure whether I'll brave the bash....I'm definitely curious!

I'm Resigned...er...Resolved

A new year, a new me. So, here's what I've resolved, thus far, for 2008.

1. I will start exercising more and eating less (after we polish off the massive jar of chocolate kisses my sister-in-law gave as a gift).

2. I will stop surfing the internet so much and start working harder (though, of course, I do get story inspiration and blog inspiration from surfing...so it's not all bad, right?).

3. I will search for ways to save money (we've already gotten a good head start on this in 2007).

4. I will stop procrastinating on my book proposal. I do want to write more books, and publishers can't buy my genius idea if I don't tell them about it!

5. I will start trying to be a little more patient...with both my mate and my daughter. This will require some drastic changes to my personality. But I'll try.

What are you hoping to accomplish in 2008?

"Push" Presents

Apparently, I'm missing out. Anyone else ever hear of "push presents?" I mean, I'm all for supporting your partner through the nine months of discomfort, pain and alcohol and sushi abstinence--not to mention the excruciating labor. And if diamond studs or a mother's ring is something a new mom would appreciate, by all means, her mate should go for it. But the name they've given these things is so creepy, and I think a gift commemorating the birth should be something thoughtfully chosen and given out of love, not wheedled and whined for...and registered for!

I'll admit that I picked out some pretty pearl and jade necklaces for myself on my first adoption trip, and plan to go jewelry shopping again when we head back for our second. But that's not exactly the same thing. Maybe I deserve a homestudy honorarium or a paperwork present?

All right, ladies, fess up: What did your guy give you when your child was born?