Category Archives: Relationships

A Day in the Life of a Stay-at-Home Mommy Blogger

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When I was an entertainment lawyer in Los Angeles my life was pretty glamorous, at least on paper. I was married, without kids, Ad Man and I had plenty of time and money on our hands. I wore the finest in lady-lawyer pantsuits. I spent time on movie studio lots, went to premieres and loaned my bathroom key to celebrities in my office. I never could have foreseen what my days would be like 10 years, 2 cities and 2 kids later. I’ve recorded one average day in the life of MommyEnnui below. Brace yourself for the excitement and please keep your hands and arms inside the ride at all times.

another_day_in_paradiseThe alarm on my iPhone goes off at 7:30 am because Biggie and Smalls have gymnastics camp this week. Feel the pain of having to get out of bed before I’m damn good and ready and making sure the kids leave the house looking somewhat presentable. Seriously dread the start of the school year which is coming in 2 short weeks. Curse the Atlanta Public School District. Curse my friends in Los Angeles whose children don’t go back to school until after Labor Day. Curse Ad Man just for fun.

Jump in the shower and ignore the fact that my legs are less than silky smooth. No time to shave today. Figure no one’s checking out my legs these days anyway. Quickly blowdry the front of my hair and hope no one notices that the back is still dripping. Contemplate yet again whether I should get my bangs cut or keep growing them out? Bangs or Botox…bangs or Botox? Realize I have to make a decision before my hair appointment first thing tomorrow morning. Know I’ll never actually decide and will let my stylist make the call.

Things I can count on to happen every single day…Smalls throws a fit and cries when getting her hair brushed and I threaten cut her hair short. Biggie realizes she’s forgotten something vital just as we’re pulling out of the driveway. The girls complain that their car seats are too hot, they stage a sit-in under the tree and refuse to enter the car. (I have no doubt they would do this if we lived in Canada.) Envision myself tying them to the bumper and dragging them to gymnastics.

xanax_better_momPick up their neighborhood friend for carpool to camp. Chat with my friend, her mother, who’s rocking a similar “disheveled mom” look as me. Notice that my friend is at least dressed in workout wear. Feel bad for not even pretending today. She mentions her fear of the start of school but remains fairly calm (or at least well-medicated). Full-on freakout mode shouldn’t hit for at least another week at which time we’ll support each other with beer on on the porch and offers to share Xanax. Feel deeply grateful to have found friends who are as neurotic as I am.

On the way to camp, realize that I’ve put my bra on twisted not once, but twice. Hope this isn’t a bad omen for the day.

Go home to blow dry the rest of my hair and brush my teeth. Watch a stupid segment on the ‘Today Show’ with Heidi Klum and Tim Gunn. Feel offended on Tim Gunn’s behalf for this clear waste of his time and talent. Count the days until the new ‘Project Runway’ season starts. Changing of the ‘Today Show’ guard. Think about how much I love Hoda and and would really like for her to find a good man. Wonder how she manages to restrain herself from slapping Kathie Lee Gifford.

heidi_montag_manipediConsider folding clothes and cleaning up the kitchen. Decide to get my nails done and write instead. Hop into our crappy, 8 year-old Passat station wagon and drive to the nail salon. Count the numerous very fit, very blonde, stay-at-home moms in workout gear, getting mani/pedis. Think about how no one in this place has any true understanding of the reality of everyday life for 90% of the people in our country. Realize I should hardly be one to judge. Defend myself in my own mind, pointing out to a nonexistent other person that I spent time on Skid Row and produced a documentary on homelessness in LA. Know that nonexistent person would say that doing a documentary about something is nothing like living that experience. Make myself stop having an imaginary conversation with no one.

Go to Starbucks to write. Lunch is an energy bar and an iced green tea. For the 5,000th time, think about how annoying lunch is, occurring in the middle of the day when I’m trying to get stuff done. Such an imposition.

Sit outside to enjoy the gorgeous weather. Take in the blue skies, temperature in the low 80s, and lovely breezes. Realize that not one part of my body is sweating…a rare state indeed. A 50-something year-old woman sits down to share my table and we can’t help overhearing the couple at the next table, who are obviously freshly divorced, argue about who’s going to pay for their kids’ private school. The woman and I eye each other nervously. The bitter couple leaves and my table mate says cheerily, “Man am I glad I’m single!” We chat about the pros and cons of marriage for a bit and she goes on her way. Acknowledge that I’ve had an amusing chance encounter with a stranger. I usually try to avoid those.

Check email. Check Facebook. Start to look at sandals on sale, but stop myself, recognizing the classic signs of a writer procrastinating. Peruse my extensive list of topics to blog about and reject all of them. My brain is too fried to actually craft an essay of any quality, so I decide to spew out a stream-of-consciousness, day-in-the-life kind of thing. Doubt anyone will read it. Write it anyway.

I know it’s time to stop writing when I have to pee. Head to Target because I need a couple things and because the bathroom there is fairly clean and smells like Froot Loops. Feel happy that Target has finally decided to ban guns in its stores so I can discontinue my boycott. Three weeks without Target was a serious sacrifice. That alone should show my dedication to the cause. Spend $96 on nothing. Forget to pee.

Get back in the car and consider the fact that I never once forgot to pee or eat a meal before I had children. Blame them.

Inhale a banana and peanut butter and greet the girls when they’re returned to me from camp. Ask how their day was and get vague and unsatisfying responses. They do, however, insist that I watch them do cartwheels and bridges in the front yard for the next half hour. Suggest they come inside for a snack and watch a TV show. Acknowledge that a better mother would stand outside all day cheering on their impressive gymnastics skills. I am not that mother.

bath_salts_0714Spend the rest of the afternoon alternately listening to squabbles over whose turn it is to choose a show, reminding Smalls to go to the bathroom, thinking about the fact that I have no plans for dinner and doing nothing about the situation. Pry the girls away from the television and attempt to entice them into taking an early bath in order to avoid an evening drama. Fail in that attempt. Instead, the girls busy themselves by planting land mines of tiny toys with sharp edges all over the house.

Text Ad Man to ask when he’s planning to leave the office. An hour and a half later, when I’ve given up on him and started cooking the girls an inspired meal of macaroni and cheese, raisins, and almonds, finally receive a text back saying he’s going to be late. Think, “No shit” but do not reply. Pour a sizable glass of wine.

Biggie and Smalls beg to take a bath together then spend the entire time fighting over tub toys and who’s taking up more space. Smalls cries and complains during hair washing, because the child apparently has the world’s most sensitive scalp. Plan to call the Guinness people if we all survive this bathtime. Listen to yet more high-pitched arguing and threaten to take away their reading time before bed. Plan what I’m going to wear to the ceremony when I receive my parenting award.

Supervise the drying off, hair brushing, donning pajamas and brushing teeth process. Just as the last preparations for bedtime are complete, Ad Man walks in. The girls squeal, “Daddy!!!” and run to hug and kiss him like they hadn’t seen him just this morning. Give Ad Man a dirty look, say, “They’re all yours,” go refill my wine glass, and take off my bra. Consider my job complete. Spend the rest of the night zoning out in front of the TV with a computer on my lap, thinking about how I really should be working out instead.

Lather, rinse and repeat tomorrow.

Hot and Bothered

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As a writer whose life is an open blog, I’m often asked for advice on a number of sensitive subjects. Luckily, I have no shame. Today’s topic is how to spice up your relationship after those white-hot first months as a couple have passed. I’ve found that social media and electronic technology are wonderful tools for staying connected with your partner, which will enhance your relationship both in and outside the bedroom.

Below, you’ll find a number of sexy tips along with real life examples from my own 16-year marriage to the handsome and talented Ad Man. I don’t mean to brag, but as you’ll see, our sex life is still smokin’ hot even after two kids and many long years together. Here are some things that have been successful for us:

1. We try to keep our lines of communication open at all times.

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2. We surprise each other with flirty text messages during the day. For example, I’ll entice him with something like:

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Ad Man’s texts rarely vary, but they never fail to get me all hot and bothered. Two of my favorites are:

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3. I take photos and email them to him at work so he feels more connected with the girls and I at home. Here’s one from a few years ago…

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4. Because Ad Man is often out of town for business, he posts photos on Instagram so it’s almost like I’m there with him. Almost.

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5. Sometimes we even bring technology into the bedroom.

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6. I’ve taken advantage of Facetime and Skype to have intimate conversations with Ad Man while he’s on the road. I don’t have video, but a few months ago I called him via Facetime late at night, all wet and completely nude. Our conversation went something like this…

“I’m running around naked because your daughter just barfed all over her bed, herself and me! Why doesn’t this shit ever happen when you’re home?!”

Well, I hope you’ve picked up a few tips for using technology to help keep your sex life fresh and exciting. These are just a few examples of what has worked for my marriage. I’m sure you’ll think of many others. Now, if you’ll excuse me, I have to go text a sultry photo of my bare derriere covered in mosquito bites as yet another reminder to my dear husband that if he doesn’t call the exterminator tomorrow, he’ll be sleeping in the back yard. Yep, we’re sexy like that.

MommyEnnui’s ‘Sex Tape’

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sextape_promo_computer_picI’m thrilled to announce a project of which I’m super excited to be a part. Sony Pictures has a movie opening on July 18th titled ‘Sex Tape.’ The movie stars Cameron Diaz and Jason Segel as married couple Annie and Jay who are looking to spice up their sex life after ten years and two kids have put a bit of a damper their formerly steamy relationship. The couple sets a goal to try every position in the ‘Joy of Sex’ in one night and to film themselves doing so. Unfortunately, they wake up the next morning only to find that their private video isn’t so private anymore. Hijinks ensue, of course, as Annie and Jay go to any length to retrieve and destroy the video.

I haven’t yet seen the full movie, but I will tell you that Ad Man and I both laughed our asses off watching the extended trailer. Here’s a sneak peek just for you!

But that’s not even the most exciting part! In the film, Diaz plays a “mommy blogger,” so Sony approached some of their favorite bloggers to write posts for Annie’s mock blog on the ‘Sex Tape’ movie website on Tumblr and one of those bloggers was me! They’re even paying me which makes this my official first paid writing job. I can now call myself a writer with a straight face! Looks like I may just have found myself a career after all.

MommyEnnui’s guest post, ‘Hot and Bothered,’ provides tips for spicing up a relationship with the help of social media and electronic technology and is illustrated with examples from my own exceedingly sexy 16-year marriage to Ad Man. Please check out my blog post here and go see ‘Sex Tape’ when it opens this coming Friday…unless, of course, you don’t like to laugh, in which case I’d recommend staying home and watching ‘Meet the Press.’

Awkward with Strangers

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louie_subwayI’ve been looking for my next show to binge-watch while on the treadmill and folding laundry having recently finished ‘Call the Midwife’ and ‘Top of the Lake,’ both which I highly recommend. I decided to go with something a little lighter today and started the second season of Louis C.K.’s dark and very humorous sitcom ‘Louie.’ If you haven’t seen it yet, in ‘Louie,’ comedian Louis C.K. basically plays himself–a newly divorced father of two young daughters living in New York City.

There was a particular moment in the episode I watched that really struck a chord with me. Louie and his daughters are asleep and his pregnant sister is spending the night on his couch when she suddenly starts screaming in pain. Her yelling wakes both Louie and his neighbors, a lovely couple whom he’s never met. The neighbors come to Louie’s door to see if they can help, one man offering to help Louie get his sister to the hospital and his partner offering to stay with the sleeping kids.

Louie, visibly uncomfortable, seems paralyzed and incapable of making a decision until one of the neighbors says, “Brother, do not let your sister die from pain or lose her baby because you are awkward with strangers.” Later, after having this experience in the trenches together (not to worry, Louie’s sister’s excruciating pain is eliminated at the hospital with one enormous fart), Louie decides that he’d like to be friends with his neighbor. Louie, of course, is a social misfit and intimidated by making new friends so the ensuing conversation about getting together again is hilariously awkward.

I laughed my ass off at this episode, but could also completely relate. It made me wonder how many experiences I’ve missed out on because of social anxiety. Recently, I had a dentist appointment. It occurred to me afterward that so many of my actions relating to just this one appointment were driven by my own social weirdness. First, I dodged phone calls from the office attempting to confirm my appointment, instead, waiting for an email so I could respond online. The receptionist at the dentist’s office is a very sweet woman named Martha who I like very much and am comfortable chatting with in person so there was really no rational reason for me to dodge her calls.

I despise the telephone. I avoid calling even my closest friends and family members because I spend the entire conversation just waiting for the moment when I can get off the phone. I will also do just about anything to avoid having to call in an order for take-out. I get a tightness in my chest and a lump in my throat when I’m forced to make the call and a ridiculous sense of accomplishment when I manage to do so successfully. I know I get this from no stranger. My mother, who suffered from depression and anxiety, rarely answered the phone. My dad was always screening calls for her. Email and texting have been like a godsend for me and I know my mother and I would have kept in much better touch with each other if we’d had access to texting while she was alive.

It’s funny, my psychiatrist once asked what it was like for me to grow up with a depressed mother. I told him I didn’t actually realize she was depressed when I was a kid. I just thought she liked to sleep a lot. It’s only as I’ve gotten older and become better able identify my own depression and anxiety symptoms that I can point to similar behaviors I saw in my mom.

Anyway, back at my dentist appointment, I pulled into the parking garage and sat in my car for a minute because I didn’t want to get out at the same time the person next to me was exiting her car. I walked into the lobby of the office building and, forgetting what floor the dentist was on, did my damndest to squint at the directory rather than asking the security guard sitting next to it. I often have to search for words and forget people’s names when I’m nervous and was afraid I’d forget my doctor’s name if I had to ask the guard…as if that would be the worst thing in the world.

I walked to the elevator bank where there were numerous people milling about. I could access the floor I needed to go to by either the regular or express elevators so my mind spun while I tried to figure out which one would likely have fewer people riding on it. When I was able to get in an elevator alone, I was relieved. Small talk with the dentist and his assistant was uncomfortable and I was happy that I could no longer speak when he jammed my mouth full of cotton and dental tools. After the appointment, I walked into the bathroom of the office building hoping that no one else would be in there.

The thing is, few people can tell that I have problems with social anxiety. I’m an outwardly friendly, open person. Hell, I tell hundreds of people about the most personal issues in my life–depression, anxiety, grief, infertility, miscarriages–on a weekly basis via this blog. I’m lucky that my social anxiety is not crippling and is fairly well controlled with medication, but I know there are plenty of people who are not so lucky and spend their lives paralyzed by anxiety. There’s a soft spot in my heart for socially awkward people. I understand the constant battle they fight with their own minds just to get through all the normal human interactions one encounters each day.

In the ‘Louie’ episode, it wasn’t easy, but Louie managed to fight his own demons and make a new friend. I’ve met some of my closest friends in just the last few years. These are people with whom I actually spend time alone and occasionally even talk to on the telephone!  I am so incredibly grateful that I didn’t miss out on all the love, laughs, support and happiness they bring to my life because I’m awkward with strangers.

Poor, Sick Ad Man

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ad_man_beach_flaAd Man stayed home from work today. He’s terribly, terribly sick. Kind of like I was last week when I was snowed in with two children and he was at a conference in Florida. You know, while he was posting photos like this one from his morning run on Instagram because he thought I wouldn’t check it. He wouldn’t dare post it on Facebook since learning his lesson with the six-foot foot sculpture incident. Oh, how he underestimates me. Doesn’t he know I have people everywhere?

So, I’m out doing errands and writing while Ad Man is home sipping tea all snug in the little nest he’s created on the couch. He’ll likely spend all afternoon listening in on some three hour conference call, the phone on mute so he can cough pitifully or more clearly hear the old episode of West Wing he’s watching simultaneously on Netflix. See? He works when he’s sick…just like me!

writer_ad_manActually, every member of the family, with the exception of Jacques the beta fish, has had this same illness. Biggie, Smalls and I survived it last week with the only casualties being about five boxes of tissues. I’m not so optimistic about Ad Man’s chances of survival. He’s a bit of a delicate flower. I have no doubt he got the most severe case of this bug. He has the sorest throat, the runniest nose and the worst cough.

In fact, that’s why I’m posting this dear readers. Ad Man could use all the thoughts, prayers and healing vibes you can spare. If there are any priests reading this right now, please stand by. I may need to call on you soon to give him last rites. Not that we’re religious…I just think his mom would appreciate it.

In the meantime, I’ll be on the phone with our insurance agent bumping up Ad Man’s life insurance a cool $Mil or so.

Are You Happy Now?

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goofy_familyMany moons ago when Ad Man and I were childless and living in Los Angeles, the family I worked for as a nanny in Chicago came out for a visit. Ad Man and I took the kids while their parents enjoyed their first weekend away in eight years. I remember thinking at the time that it was insane that they hadn’t had even a night away together since their oldest son was born. That was mind-blowing to me.

Fast forward to the other day when I was asked the following question by Gabriele Neumann of Basically I’m Complicated:
Q: You get a free one week trip for two to anywhere in the world! Where do you go and who do you take with you?

In formulating my answer, it occurred to me that Ad Man and I haven’t been away together without the kids since Biggie was born…eight years ago. We have a number of married friends who take trips alone fairly often but they all live close to family members who are happy to take the offspring for a weekend. We, unfortunately, don’t have that luxury. But, I don’t think we’re alone in this situation. Many people tend to neglect their relationships once children hit the scene.

Which brings me to an article I read recently from the Telegraph. The headline was ‘Happier Relationships for Couples Without Children.’ The article addressed a study done by Open University in the UK that surveyed and conducted extensive interviews with 5,000 couples of different ages, financial conditions and sexual orientations who were in long-term relationships. The research showed that, overall, childless couples reported more satisfaction with their lives and felt more valued by their partners.

As a married, mother of two, my first reaction to the article was, of course, “How dare you! I am blissfully happy with my loving husband and beautiful children. Every day is like a honeymoon for my Ad Man and I, the kids are perfectly behaved at all times and I feel completely fulfilled.” Just kidding!  Would I have named my blog MommyEnnui if that’s really how I thought?

baby_birthday_someecardIn reality, my reaction was, “No shit!” I mean, think about it. That’s like saying, “We were so much happier when we had money, could go out for dinner or see a movie any damn time we liked, got to sleep in on the weekends, had sex on a regular basis and lived close to all our friends in our city of choice. Ever since we bought that failing farm far away from loved ones, and started getting up before dawn to feed the animals and milk the cows, never, ever getting a day off, our relationship is less satisfying.” Did they really need to do a study to figure that out?!

Are Ad Man and I less happy now than we were during the nine years we were married before having kids? I can only answer for myself (though I’m guessing he would agree) and I would say absolutely. Despite what Biggie and Smalls say, my life today bears only a slight resemblance to my life prior to children. Back then, I had a successful career, was a newlywed, lived in LA and had lots of friends who I saw often. Ad Man and I had plenty of disposable income and were able to travel. Of course I felt more valued by my partner! We had a relatively simple life with lots of time and energy to dedicate to each other.

This isn’t to say that my life is less happy overall. Interestingly, the Open University study also found that mothers were the happiest of the research subjects despite reporting that they were less satisfied in their romantic relationships than they were before having children. Since having kids, my life is far more complicated. My worries are deeper…will we have the money to send the girls to private school in a few years, let alone college? Will my children grow up to be fine, upstanding young women or will they be psychopaths? How in the hell am I going to survive their teen years?

But, my highs are also higher. These two monsters bring me more joy than I ever thought possible. When I watch them learn to ride a two-wheeler, or make a new friend or listen to their hilarious observations, my heart just about explodes in my chest. Are they pains-in-the-ass much of the time? Yes, but they’re my pains-in-the-ass!  And,18 years goes by shockingly quickly. So, Ad Man and I know that we’ve got a little more than 12 years of having a kid in the house and, after that, the world is our oyster again. Hopefully, we’ll still have something to talk about other than our children!

How about you? Would you say your marriage was happier before having children? What about life in general? How has it changed? I’d love to hear your thoughts.

Ode to a Sixteen Year-Old Marriage

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wedding_group_pic_1197On this day, 16 years ago, Ad Man and I were married at a charming cottage in the Hollywood Hills.  The attendees were a ragtag bunch which, even in hindsight, seems appropriate to the occasion.  We’d gotten engaged less than 3 months before and decided to avoid all the drama that goes along with planning a wedding by giving ourselves a short timetable and resolving to make ours intimate and relatively casual.

We enlisted the help of a few friends, some of whom were Ad Man’s customers at the bike shop he managed at the time.  A caterer and a florist were among our cyclist friends and they both performed miracles for us on our measly budget.  Our DJ was another friend who was a well-known club DJ and played an eclectic mix of Sinatra, hip hop and old-school soul music all night.

The one thing that was traditional at our wedding, however, were our vows.  There sure as hell was no obeying and we went light on the religious stuff, but other than that, we stuck close to the script.  Up until the last minute, Ad Man was threatening to write his own vows, the thought of which filled me with horror.  I knew my reaction to his original vows would be unpredictable at best.  I imagined him being uber sappy and me turning into a blubbering mess.  Or, being so nervous anticipating what he was going to say that I’d giggle my way through the ceremony.  One thing I knew for sure, though, was that I’d be crawling out of my skin if his grammar sucked.

So, I begged him to stick with the well-worn, traditional vows, figuring that they’d stood the test of time for a reason.  And, like any wife-to-be worth her salt, I won.  The ceremony turned out to be perfect…a little tradition, a bit of hippie shit and lot of quirkiness.  After 18+ years together, 16 years of marriage and 2 kids later, though, I’m thinking those original vows would need a bit of tweaking if we were to repeat them today. I imagine something like the following would be more appropriate.

OFFICIANT:
Dearly beloved, you have traveled here today from across the country and, indeed, the globe, to gather once again to relive your 20s and to witness the marriage of this often grumpy, middle-aged advertising executive to this occasionally bitchy, middle-aged, stay-at-home mom.  They may not seem familiar to you since you remember them as the young, zen, blue-haired bike shop manager and the hip but ambitious, young and fit, entertainment lawyer, but I assure you, they are the same people.  Believe me, they are as shocked by the changes as you are.

If any person can show numerous damn good reasons why they should not be re-joined together, let them speak now, provide concrete evidence including photographs, and be prepared to break the news to their two young children, or forever shut the F up.

Through marriage, Ad Man and the blogger known as MommyEnnui make a commitment together to face their disappointments, embrace their fading dreams, realize their unreasonable hopes for the future and accept each other’s failures, many of which came as unwelcome surprises since the day they first married eons ago.

Marriage is the union of husband and wife in heart, (flabby) body and (slipping) mind.  It is an act of faith, no less terrifying than skydiving, a personal commitment and, maybe a couple times a month if he’s lucky and she’s been drinking, a physical union.  Marriage has been described as the best and most important relationship that can exist between two people. That may be a bit of an exaggeration in that it ignores the extreme importance of others such as one’s therapist, nanny or barista, but you get the idea.

Anyway, who gives this woman in marriage to this man?

MOMMYENNUI:
I give my damn self!  Actually, I don’t give myself to anyone.  You think just because I’m a wife and mother that I’m not my own person?!  Various overly defensive comments, blah, blah, blah, on and on…

Just Kids 1997OFFICIANT:
Um, OK.  Let’s table that and move on.

Do you, Ad Man, take MommyEnnui to continue to be your wife, to live together in a charmingly untidy home that really needs to have the bathrooms renovated, in the state of holy matrimony?  Will you love her even when she’s off her meds, comfort her when the grocery clerk calls her “ma’am,” honor her, at least in public, and keep her, but not in a creepy, sexist, patriarchal way?

Will you stand by her in mental illness and in health, or whatever passes for health now that you’re both in your 40s, for richer and even when you realize you’ve been paying her student loans for the last 16 years, in sadness and in joy, even through those years when the sadness just seems to pile up and far outweighs the joy, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live?

AD MAN:
Hell yeah!  I’m the luckiest man in the world!  (Or something like that.)

OFFICIANT:
And, do you, MommyEnnui, take Ad Man to continue to be your husband, to live together with your cute but sometimes evil spawn, in the state of holy matrimony?  Will you love him even when he leaves pans to “soak” for a week before washing them, comfort him when some whippersnapper at work doesn’t get his reference to a John Hughes movie, honor him by not writing about him on your blog, and keep him…on a short leash?

Will you stand by him in sickness, when he’s a whiny pain-in-the-ass even though you had two humans cut out of your uterus without a complaint, and in health, for richer and for when he threatens to buy an expensive motorcycle, in sadness and when he’s gleefully geeking out over some new piece of technology, forsaking all others for as long as you both shall live or at least until you’re so old you no longer remember who he is?

MOMMYENNUI:
Yes, I will agree to everything except for the blog part.

OFFICIANT:
You have pronounced yourselves husband and wife.  What, therefore, a non-denominational minister from 1-800-I-MARRY-YOU, joined together so very long ago, let nothing put asunder, not the death of a parent, infertility, miscarriage, depression, raising two children, changing careers, unemployment, moving across the country, paying a mortgage or the day-to-day crap of life.  You two are stuck together forever whether you like it or not.

MOMMYENNUI:
I like it.  I like it a lot.  Happy anniversary, Ad Man.  I love you!

Girls, Girls, Girls

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jackie_amy_wineFrom childhood through my late 20s, I was the kind of girl that preferred the company of boys and men.  I wasn’t really a tomboy, but I would rather hang out in the living room with my boy cousins and all my uncles watching football than sitting in the kitchen with all the ladies. That may have been different if I’d had girl cousins my age, but in the absence of a female partner-in-crime, I generally stuck with the guys.

My best friend in preschool was a boy.  I still have a number of close guy friends from high school.  In college, I lived with my boyfriend and his two male roommates.  I ate meals with them (quite often straight out of a pan), helped to soundproof their band’s practice space, and published a punk rock fanzine with them.

In hindsight, I wonder if my social anxiety played a part in my avoidance of groups of girls and women.  I often found them intimidating.  Men tend to be more than happy with a surface-level depth to their friendships.  “Wait, you like drinking beer and listening to Nirvana?! Me too!” and suddenly they’re friends.  Being friends with women, on the other hand, generally requires more presence and participation.

But, something changed as I got older and had children.  Suddenly, I had this connection with other women that went far beyond the watching-football-together friendship I had with the guys.  I even felt more connected with my mother and grandmother, even though they’d both died before I had Biggie, simply because we’d shared the same experiences, albeit in different times.  I think one of the reasons my female friends are so important to me is because I don’t have my mom to lean on for advice about all the things she experienced before I did…being married, being a mother, facing the horrors of having teenagers and of entering middle age. Not that I would have taken her advice, of course.

mel_jackie_2013I now have the most amazing group of women friends any gal could ask for.  I’m still very close with my best friend from grade school and high school though we now live on different coasts.  My law school friends are friends for life.  And, I couldn’t function without my “sister-wife” who I’m so lucky to have living right next door.  It’s pretty unusual, but I didn’t meet the majority of my closest friends until after college, some in just the last few years.

There are just some things only your girl friends will do for you.  They hold your hair back when you puke and have your back when someone treats you like crap.  They’ll listen to your most intimate questions and tell you it’s totally normal (or not, and tell you to get your ass to the doctor!).  They won’t judge you when you feed your kids mac n’ cheese for the 4th night in a row or when you pour a glass of wine at 3 o’clock in the afternoon. They’ll know you’re kidding when you say you want to murder your spouse or kids or mother-in-law, but if you actually did murder someone, they’d totally help you hide the body.

This past weekend, my friend D had me and a group of other friends up to her family lake house for a girls’ get-away.  I’d met a couple of the others just briefly in the past, but I wouldn’t say I knew them well.  The rest of the ladies, I’d never met before.  We did things that men typically do when they get together, like drinking far too much, playing hilarious and potentially offensive card games, talking about work (or lack thereof) poking the logs in the fireplace and sitting on the deck staring contentedly at the lake.

But, we did other things I just can’t imagine the guys doing.  We cooked and ate delicious meals including salads and desserts, not just charred meat on the grill, we watched ‘Dirty Dancing’ (oh yes we did), we hung out in the hot tub, read trashy magazines, laughed until we cried and even did a little painting, which I hadn’t done since art school.  By the end of the weekend, we’d discussed everything from the challenges of raising a child with autism to our preferred method for bikini-area landscaping.  We bonded fast and hard. Seriously, it was like a really swank sleep-away camp.  And, I loved every girlie minute of it!