I have entered into the darkness of the worst cold in the history of the world. And, graciously, heroically, I have agreed to send dispatches back until my communication apparatuses fail. I can tell you this: if you are pregnant and cannot take your usual seven Tylenol Cold and Flu tablets, 3 Mucinex, and a quart of Nyquil, Vicks might make you feel slightly better. It's best application, however, is as a talisman, warding off all other people. "Hey, Mar-- what's that smell? Oh, God, are you SICK?"
Unfortunately, with this cold there is a high risk of betrayal by those around you. For instance, the child I have raised and loved for nine years, eight months and fourteen days cruelly turned back onto me the words I used last week to offer her solace during her slight-clearly-totally-different-from-this-cold-cold. "Geez, Mama, it's just a cold. You'll get over it." For her sake, I hope I do.
This cold is powerful. So powerful it will take away the senses of humor of those around you. For instance, if you go to bed at seven and thus wake up at 3am and decide to kill time by moaning and occasionally crying out, "The light! It's so beautiful! I'm coming, Grandma!" your partner may pull the blanket over his head and mumble, "Seriously? What time is it?"
Time doesn't mean much to me anymore. I just know it's close. I'm sneezing again now. Sneezing a lot. Before I go, I want you to know I loved a few of you very much. The rest of you I just tolerated.
Thursday, October 20, 2011
Tuesday, October 18, 2011
Marriage and Other Scaries
I'm not married. This may come as a shock to some of my friends who assumed I was because the subject just never came up. I'm even guilty of hearing people say that I'm married and not correcting them. Sometimes I even let people call me Mrs. Foster (or worse, Mrs. Ramsey), and I don't say anything. It's just easier. For them, I hope.
Don't get me wrong, I'm totally engaged. Have been for ten years. We got engaged when I was two months pregnant, which probably helped with my reluctance to make it official. People shouldn't get married because they're pregnant. Nor should they get engaged for that reason, but I really liked the ring. (Eventually I threw it at him so many times it got lost. Let that be a lesson to you).
I'm not anti-marriage. I think it's fine. I sometimes wish I had some noble reason to not be married, like those who profess they won't marry until everyone who wants to marry legally can. I'd like to jump on that bandwagon, because it's certainly nobler than my reasons, but it feels too fake since it's only a last minute jump.
The truth is probably that I knew he needed to be tested, I just didn't know the tests would take this long. I had a baby daughter when we met. Would he love her like his own? No, I mean like his own. That test takes time. I can remember getting hysterical because his mother threatened to spank his brother's biological child and making the accusation that his mother would never spank MY CHILD because she didn't consider her family. Closer to the truth is probably that my child never did much to deserve spanking, and if she did, his mother probably wasn't around to see it, or she was too busy spanking one of her other dozens of grandchildren.
What if I get pregnant? Will you stay? Well, what if the baby's sick? What if she NEVER STOPS CRYING, and nine years later things haven't much improved? Hmmmm? OK, you win that round. But what if I get depressed. No, I don't mean sad, I mean the clinical kind, where I'm convinced every grimace you make is really a judgment of my clothes, parenting, cooking, cleaning, living, breathing? What if I decide to stay in school for EIGHT YEARS?! Ha ha! No? OK, well what if I force you to leave your hometown and your children from your first marriage to follow me to a writing program that I proclaim my dream. OK, you win that round, too. But, on the other hand, what if you lose your job? What if YOU suffer from clinical depression? What if your family gets on my nerves, your kids piss me off, and I occasionally follow you around like a stalker, insisting I must always know where you are. OK, well you've passed that section, but the test ain't over. This, it turns out, is a very, very long test. It's like the GRE and the LSAT all in one. No retakes. Bring ID and several sharpened pencils.
Sometimes, mostly when my kids got old enough to ask why we're not married, I make half hearted wedding planning attempts. But the truth is, I don't like parties. I don't like being the center of attention. I look like an idiot in white, I can't dance at all, and I can't stand wearing dresses. What's the point? I never dreamed of getting married when I was a girl, at least not that I can remember. I dreamed of having daughters, and I think it's just awesome that he decided to stick around and help me do it.
Sometimes I think we could get married if we snuck into it. Like, hey, what's going on this Friday? Nothing? Well, shit, we should get married! But then my heart starts palpitating and my eyes go dry and I know the test's not over. It's closer, sure, but it's not over.
Recently he came upon me while I was doing dishes and suggested, just suggested, mind you, that his father had mentioned, just mentioned, please, that because my mom is sick it might be better to do it sooner rather than later. "I am NOT going to talk about this." That is all. Of course I want my mom there. But, as a friend recently pointed out, that's not really a good reason to get married. But when I asked that friend what WAS a good reason to get married, the conversation turned to other things. I read somewhere that people should only get married because they can't imagine any other choice, but my friend, recently and happily married, didn't seem terribly convinced by that, either. I know people do it. I mean, people get married all the time. I'm sure they must think long and hard about it. But why? I mean, why do it over NOT doing it? Sure, I could think of reasons to do it. Lots of them. But most really have nothing to do with marriage the institution and have much more to do with family the institution, which we seemingly have managed just fine for ten years without marriage, so, wait, why do it again?
I could point out the many many people I know who plan excitedly (loudly, constantly) for a year or more for a wedding leading to a marriage that seems to me utterly destined for failure. I could point out that my first thought after "let's get married!" is generally, "but, fuck, divorce is expensive." I watched my parents' long, drawn out, painful (particularly painful for people who truly had little to argue over) divorce which ended with the utter indignity of the judge giving my mother the five children and my dad the vacuum cleaner. Without a judge, I imagine, if the two of us ever decided to just throw in the towel, we'd have to work out such important details ourselves. For the record, I'm getting the vacuum cleaner.
Don't get me wrong, I'm totally engaged. Have been for ten years. We got engaged when I was two months pregnant, which probably helped with my reluctance to make it official. People shouldn't get married because they're pregnant. Nor should they get engaged for that reason, but I really liked the ring. (Eventually I threw it at him so many times it got lost. Let that be a lesson to you).
I'm not anti-marriage. I think it's fine. I sometimes wish I had some noble reason to not be married, like those who profess they won't marry until everyone who wants to marry legally can. I'd like to jump on that bandwagon, because it's certainly nobler than my reasons, but it feels too fake since it's only a last minute jump.
The truth is probably that I knew he needed to be tested, I just didn't know the tests would take this long. I had a baby daughter when we met. Would he love her like his own? No, I mean like his own. That test takes time. I can remember getting hysterical because his mother threatened to spank his brother's biological child and making the accusation that his mother would never spank MY CHILD because she didn't consider her family. Closer to the truth is probably that my child never did much to deserve spanking, and if she did, his mother probably wasn't around to see it, or she was too busy spanking one of her other dozens of grandchildren.
What if I get pregnant? Will you stay? Well, what if the baby's sick? What if she NEVER STOPS CRYING, and nine years later things haven't much improved? Hmmmm? OK, you win that round. But what if I get depressed. No, I don't mean sad, I mean the clinical kind, where I'm convinced every grimace you make is really a judgment of my clothes, parenting, cooking, cleaning, living, breathing? What if I decide to stay in school for EIGHT YEARS?! Ha ha! No? OK, well what if I force you to leave your hometown and your children from your first marriage to follow me to a writing program that I proclaim my dream. OK, you win that round, too. But, on the other hand, what if you lose your job? What if YOU suffer from clinical depression? What if your family gets on my nerves, your kids piss me off, and I occasionally follow you around like a stalker, insisting I must always know where you are. OK, well you've passed that section, but the test ain't over. This, it turns out, is a very, very long test. It's like the GRE and the LSAT all in one. No retakes. Bring ID and several sharpened pencils.
Sometimes, mostly when my kids got old enough to ask why we're not married, I make half hearted wedding planning attempts. But the truth is, I don't like parties. I don't like being the center of attention. I look like an idiot in white, I can't dance at all, and I can't stand wearing dresses. What's the point? I never dreamed of getting married when I was a girl, at least not that I can remember. I dreamed of having daughters, and I think it's just awesome that he decided to stick around and help me do it.
Sometimes I think we could get married if we snuck into it. Like, hey, what's going on this Friday? Nothing? Well, shit, we should get married! But then my heart starts palpitating and my eyes go dry and I know the test's not over. It's closer, sure, but it's not over.
Recently he came upon me while I was doing dishes and suggested, just suggested, mind you, that his father had mentioned, just mentioned, please, that because my mom is sick it might be better to do it sooner rather than later. "I am NOT going to talk about this." That is all. Of course I want my mom there. But, as a friend recently pointed out, that's not really a good reason to get married. But when I asked that friend what WAS a good reason to get married, the conversation turned to other things. I read somewhere that people should only get married because they can't imagine any other choice, but my friend, recently and happily married, didn't seem terribly convinced by that, either. I know people do it. I mean, people get married all the time. I'm sure they must think long and hard about it. But why? I mean, why do it over NOT doing it? Sure, I could think of reasons to do it. Lots of them. But most really have nothing to do with marriage the institution and have much more to do with family the institution, which we seemingly have managed just fine for ten years without marriage, so, wait, why do it again?
I could point out the many many people I know who plan excitedly (loudly, constantly) for a year or more for a wedding leading to a marriage that seems to me utterly destined for failure. I could point out that my first thought after "let's get married!" is generally, "but, fuck, divorce is expensive." I watched my parents' long, drawn out, painful (particularly painful for people who truly had little to argue over) divorce which ended with the utter indignity of the judge giving my mother the five children and my dad the vacuum cleaner. Without a judge, I imagine, if the two of us ever decided to just throw in the towel, we'd have to work out such important details ourselves. For the record, I'm getting the vacuum cleaner.
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