Short List of Things I Do Not Recommend

1. Watching "The Bridges of Madison County" too close to your period.

2. The same month your only child starts Kindergarten.

3. While infertile.

4. And drinking a 2006 Trader Joe's Shiraz.

One quote stopped me dead in my Ruffle-dipping tracks.

Meryl Streep's character says, very haltingly:

"Having children in one way ends your life. ...A new life begins that is wonderful. But, YOU are over. Your life becomes about details. ...And YOU stand still. So that everyone else can move around you. And then they leave. ...And they take those details with them. ...And you're supposed to move on. But, you can't remember what moved you. ...Because it's been so long since anyone asked."

It's been so long since anyone asked.

From my keyboard to your heart, no? How often do you feel like if you could only get a MINUTE ALONE, THEN you could figure out what moves you. Then you would know what your plan is. Then you could have a conversation with you again. If you could just step out of the details of family life for a minute to reconnect with YOU.

Meryl Streep portrays a housewife in the 1960's, but the sentiment rings true today. Perhaps even more so. Because there are so many more opportunities available to moms today - so many new ways to feel like you're failing if you don't take them.

I thought about her words "It's been so long since anyone asked". I realized that that is what makes all the difference.

Someone asking.

Someone to remind you of who you are and where you're going. Someone to remind you to check in with that quiet place in your heart. Someone to nudge you to keep moving forward.

I'm so lucky that Chris has always been so supportive of whatever it is I want to do. He's the first one cheering me on.

When I wanted to become a mom ten minutes after we married, he said okay.

When I wanted to quit my job, he said do it.

When I wanted to start my own business, he announced it to the world.

When I wanted to go back to school, he was right there.

When I wanted to take on writing gigs, he said go for it.

And when I wanted to raise ferrets, there he was. (I'm kidding. I never raised ferrets, but I could have. See?)

Now, after seven years of marriage and six years of mommying and with the possibility of having another child dancing on the horizon, I'm in the beginning stages of starting up yet another business and without a doubt, I know my reliable husband will be right there by my side every step of the way. Asking all the right questions. Sharing my enthusiasm. Nudging me along.

It's his way of whispering in my ear "What moves you?".

Because without someone asking, we may never be forced to answer.

So, let me be that someone today. What was your passion before you became a mom, a wife?

Is it painting? Acting? Running? Singing? Dancing? Photography? Cooking? Writing? Reading? Your career? Pole dancing?

What moves you?

Her

Want to know a surefire way to induce writer's block? Refer to a future post as "fantastic" when you haven't yet given the post so much as two seconds thought. Then sit in front of the computer screen the next day repeating to yourself "Fantastic. Fantastic. How to be faaaan-tastic.".

So.

On being a second wife.

Out of respect to Chris I won't get into the details of what went wrong with his first marriage - (cough) she wasn't me (cough) - but for the sake of discussion, I'll give you these few important details.

1. They were married ten years.

2. They did not have kids.

3. She was a Hawaiian Tropic Model.

4. She was a Hawaiian Tropic Model.

When we met, Chris was still married to HTM. They were separated, they were unhappy, whatever. The point is, I was 20. I didn't know better. I wasn't aware that you're supposed to make a married man wait until he's...oh, I don't know...DIVORCED.

So, our relationship started out as this weird confusing friendship/rebound thing that never should have worked out on paper. Chris was married. He was older. He was best friends with my boss. And we all worked together. Did I mention that? Awkward.

Eventually we got past all that and got married.

And that is where the competition began. A competition between HTM and myself. Except that she had no idea there was a competition going on. She had moved on and now? I was filling her shoes. I was now The Wife.

The problem with being a second wife is that there is a comparison component already in place when you say "I do". It's not enough that you can cook. It's whether you're a better cook. It's not enough that you're thin. Are you thinner? It's nice that your in-laws like you, but do they like you more?

The added problem with my situation is that Chris and I were good friends before we started dating. Therefore, I received a lot of information I could have gladly gone to my grave not knowing. Like that she was a size 4. That he once found her "mesmerizing". Burn my ear canals with hot coals PLEASE. That she was two inches taller than I am. That she was a vegetarian. That she was a yoga instructor.

That she was a model.

Kill me.

I recall taking great pleasure in throwing out bags of her tiny yoga clothes and refusing to ever buy hummus.

It wasn't that I doubted Chris' love for me or that I was fearful he would go back to her. It's just that I am very very petty. 

And jealous.

Being a second wife reminds me of that fortune cookie game where you end every fortune with "in bed". (eg - You will be prosperous and lucky...in bed. Ha ha ha). Every memory your husband relays, every story, every event you are constantly ending it with ...in bed.

Oh, I remember when I went skydiving...and then you went home and had sex.

I've been to that restaurant...and it was so romantic that you went home and had sex.

When we're in Hawaii we should go to this secluded little beach...where you had sex.

I once had a bird...who watched you have sex.

There really is no winning for the husband of a second wife. As far as I'm concerned, Chris was born from a pod at 36 years old. The End. There was no woman before me.

If a woman is very lucky, she will marry herself a husband who is keen to this glaring flaw in his new wife's personality and will act as if he never ever did anything with his first wife and come to think of it, he only saw her like twice in ten whole years and even then yuck who would want to.

As I did.

Chris has perfectly chiseled HTM out of all his stories. I know he didn't really go skydiving, and to Hawaii, and to Yosemite, and to the nice little bed & breakfast with "Gary" or "my sister". But, he says he did for me. And I appreciate that. Let's just say that neither one of us has overlooked the fact that I am very agreeable to living in denial. It's cozy here.

Aside from all that, there are advantages to marrying a man who's been married before. It's not all crash dieting and obsessive Googling.

They come pre-hobbled.

He knows what works. He knows to put the toilet seat down, to buy flowers, to wash the dishes. He knows not to touch you on your period, or buy you appliances for your anniversary, or use the word "fine" when you ask how you look.

If you're the obsessive and observant type, this also can clue you into what his ex's habits were. For example, when Chris and I were first together, he bought me a loofah to keep at his house. He said "I bought this for you. I knew you would want to loofah your legs before you shave them."

I NEVER loofah. Anything.

And she has soft legs. Duly noted.

It must have been all that time she saved not reading books. Oops! There I go again - being petty!

The other advantage is that they now know how good they have it. If you like to cook and she didn't they may dance around the kitchen on Taco Night. If she was obsessive about exercise and you're not, he may high-five you when you mention on the way to the gym that you'd rather go get a beer. If she was, I don't know, a MODEL, he may be really really grateful that you're not all busy traveling to photo shoots and stuff. So, you have more time to make tacos. And maybe start a blog.

We'll celebrate our seven year wedding anniversary this year. And as much as I want to hold onto our newlywed status, I cannot wait to be married ten years to this man. Because then I will pass her up. And he will be all mine.

So, do tell. How do you feel about the HER that came before you? Do you talk to her? Do you mind if he talks to her? Do you compare yourself to her? Are you raising kids with her? For the love of god, are you passing framed pictures of her at the mall?

**If Comments are not working, email me your comment and I'll throw it up there once Typepad FIGURES IT OUT. JEEZ.

He All Grows Up

I have an announcement:

My husband has learned how to clean.

I know. I know. You won't believe it until you see it. You're welcome to come by and peek in the windows anytime. And there you will find him Putting His Coffee Cup In the Dishwasher And Not Leaving A Whole Damn Collection Of Them By My Bathroom Sink!

Also, Making Sure His Dental Floss Actually Goes Into The Garbage!

And... you'll have to hold onto a chair for this one... Putting His Dirty Clothes In The Newly Discovered Hamper Rather Than Under The Bed!

(I like my fully capitalized sentences; they sum up thoughts nicely, don't you think?)

My favorite part of this whole development is how he walks around the house in sheer disbelief at "how easy it is to clean as I go". In the last four days since we've prepared the house for sale he has wandered around in a daze admiring this new environment. When we pass each other in the hall he looks at me in wonderment like we're two soldiers fresh out of the foxhole together, slowly shaking his head, whispering emotionally "It's just all so incredible."

It's finally done, ladies. I've broken him in. He's hobbled.

So, after shining this house up to a reflective sheen and setting the ambience with potpourri and music, we took off for the day Saturday leaving our real estate gem for the buyers to fight over. I have to admit that we fully expected some interest.

We returned to not a single business card, yet evidence that someone used the restroom and possibly? Looked through my wedding album?

Is this the 'new market' they speak of?

So, we spent the better part of two hours last night arguing over whether someone had actually been in the house or not.

"Were these blinds closed when we left?"

"I think this area of the carpet looks walked on, don't you?"

"Did you put this beer in the fridge?"

I had to physically stop Chris from calling our realtor to see if she could track whether someone had come through with a client. I could just imagine the inane conversation:

"Well, did they leave a business card?"

"Uh, no."

"Then how do you know anyone came through?"

"Because I ALWAYS leave the toilet seat down."

"Ooookay."

Looks like we're no closer to a buyer. But, we do have a very very clean house. And a late blooming OCD husband.