Another Monday to myself. I could get used to this. Then before I know it, Summer will hit me like a hard slap across the face and I'll have to find a corner to rock in as I shut out the reality that these precious few hours a week don't last forever.
I've had a cold since Friday. I'm the last in the Maven family to get it. By all appearances, it seemed like no big woop. I wasn't worried. I didn't slather myself in alcohol-based hand sanitizer every time someone sneezed. Hindsight is always 20/20. I'm now cursing its viral name as I blow unceremoniously into my 3,000th Kleenex. My nose is so red it looks like I had bagel and half a bottle of whiskey for breakfast. My right ear is partially blocked and a lymph node on that side looks like it's an infected belly in the Alien movie. The Maven is not so attractive right now. Believe it or not, there are a few times in my life where I don't look like a ravenous sex kitten.
So, it is with great pleasure and relief that I can take a day off from meeting the demands of feisty gremlins and instead enjoy a bit of this new feeling I recently discovered: trink trankwul tranquility.
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| Could I pull this off? See below. |
The first thing I did after grabbing a coffee and breakfast sandwich (cooking is for people who need to feed other people) was put on last night's DVRed episode of Sister Wives. If you haven't seen TLC's new reality show, I recommend you stay far, far away from it. And not just because you can feel your brain cells melting as you watch another series that requires absolutely no thought, but because you'll likely kick yourself for getting hooked on it. Like me. I hate me right now.
And, if you have the series premiere taped but haven't watched it yet, you may not want to read the rest of my blog as it may contain spoilers.
The premise for the show is simple: Dude has three wives, and together they have a kazillion kids, and they all live in a big house and everything is mostly wonderful. Everyone likes the arrangement, the kids go to a private polygamist-friendly school, and all the wives are happy to have each other in the family.
Except. You knew there had to be a catch, right? If it were sunshine and lollipops all the time it would fall apart like Jon and Kate did. Nothing is perfect, kiddies.
It seems dude has been courting a new potential wifey. And she's thirty. And she already has three kids. And she's a brunette, which totally sets her apart from the three blonde wives dude already has. So she's young, she's hot, she's bringing kids into the family that are not dude's, and she laughs like a bloody school girl. Seriously, the production crew made her out to be a total bimbo for the five seconds you see her at the end of the show. If that were my potential sister wife I would stab my ear drums out with a fork within a week of her setting foot in the door.
So, it looks like she's about to become sister wife #4, which is totally going to screw things up for this family. Jealousy, upheaval, drama.
And I have to ask: why? This family seems pretty happy with three wives who've known each other forever, a bunch of kids who are all related and grew up together knowing the three moms, and there are three apartments in the house they live in - one for each wife and her kids. Three is the magic number, dude. Three little pigs, the three bears, three blind mice. It doesn't take a rocket scientist to figure this out.
I don't understand why he needs to mess with the arrangement. Is he just bored? Is he just horny? Just say no, Cody (that's the dude's name). Keep it in your pants, buddy. Is it a religion thing? I figure polygamy is polygamy is polygamy. If you think God will be happy if you take on multiple wives, then three should be plenty, right? Does he not understand the male-to-female ratio the world? It's physically impossible for each man to have multiple wives, unless men start acting like lions and eating their male young. I don't see that happening any time soon, so maybe stop being so greedy and count yourself lucky you have this many.
I've never been against polygamy per say. I mean, as long as everyone is happy with the situation, what's the harm? There are folks all over the world who marry multiple people and live good lives. Monogamists everywhere are shaking their heads at me right now, but you needn't be so smug. The divorce rate for our kind of marriage is over 50%, so I think we need to take a collective chill pill and look at the problems in our own society before we start judging others. I'm not arguing that polygamy is necessarily healthier or happier, but until we make our own twosome marriages healthier and happier we should probably stop pointing fingers.
Also, there are some upsides, like extra help with the dishes, laundry, homework, and all the other mundane daily tasks that make me contemplate a leap from a high bridge every now and then. Having someone to share that work with sounds rather pleasant.
If my husband were to take a second wife, there would be conditions. For one, she would need to make a damn good cup of coffee and know how to enjoy it, too.
Second, she must enjoy cleaning up barf, because if I were to go to all the trouble to open up my home and share my spouse with someone, she had better take stomach flu watch or she's out of here. I've paid my dues in the puke department, thank you very much.
Third, she must be uglier than me. Listen, I may be wise and savvy and excellent, but I am still a girl, ok? I need to be the hot one. No exceptions.
All kidding aside, I am in no way interested in a plural marriage. And surprisingly, it has little to do with sex. After seventeen years together, I'm not as possessive as I once was. The issue is more logistical: I value my space, I have enough kids to raise without having to help raise my husband's other offspring, and I barely get enough time with him as it is without adding in several more people into the mix.
Then, there are more PMS times to worry about (and if they happen at the same time, a nuke might as well go off on the dining room table because it would be an all out WWIII bitch fest). He would have to remember multiple anniversaries when he barely remembers one, and with that many kids to send to college we'd have to open up a Sister Wives Happy Ending Massage Parlour to pay for tuition.
Moreover, unless all my sister wives had jobs out of the house, how on earth would I get any time to myself to watch lame shows like Sister Wives and blog about it? And I swear if one of them started blogging more often and more creatively than I do, I might have to have a jealous word with Heavenly Father during prayer time and wish for a pestilence to strike her down -- or at least eat her fingers.
There can only be one Maven in this house, baby.