Married to the Marsupials

CJ, I think you make such a valid point in your comment that it's worth a post. This is a subject that I've often pondered and is perhaps the one reason I am thankful to be single.

I look at my married friends who are popping out babies, taking care of them all day, doing their husband's laundry and then cooking them dinner. I feel sorry for them, and it almost breaks my heart to see so many of them settling for lives that are straight out of Leave it to Beaver. However, most of my married girlfriends do not work. So I think the men feel even more entitled to expect exactly what you are speaking of, and they think that because they earn the money, they are entitled to virtually enslave their wives.

It's like feminism has completely been obliterated. At least when you work, you have some sense of independence. My advice to you, if you are a working mommy, is to sit your husband down and say, "Look, I work twice as hard as you, so pick up some of the slack, buster." Or at the very least, get him to hire you some damned help. That's the least you deserve.

All of my parents friends worked and raised children. I watch these young couples today, my friends exhausted after a day of baby-manning, the husband expecting a home-cooked meal as soon as he walks in the door, and think to myself, maybe being single isn't so bad after all.

You are right, my parents set great examples, they both work and were always on equal footing. My mom and dad share the chores, finances and social calendars equally. Mom doesn't cook; dad doesn't mind. Dad shops for groceries and picks up his own dry-cleaning. And brings home a bouquet of roses from the farmer's market every Friday. Mom does what she wants, when she wants and so does dad. And they are completely in love after 36 years. They are, in short, the perfect couple, impossible to live up to, so I have pretty much given up trying to live up to them in that dept.

Therefore, it's nearly impossible to find a man who would treat me the same way my dad treats my mom. And I don't want kids, am "too much" for guys my age to handle, and expect a lot from a partner, all of which leads me to believe I need an older man. Now if only I could find one who wasn't off-limits. . . .

Ahh, I see that someone at the lovely Miami Herald is reading the blog again. What your own paper is boring you? What a shocker! Perhaps you should think of bringing your coverage into the 21st century . . . there actually is unique, fun stuff happening in that city of yours. Too bad you have nobody to cover it.

The only things in my life that are not a complete frazzled mess right now are: my shoes, which are now all Ziploc-ed and ready to go (they fit perfectly—okay barely—in my large Skull and Bones tote, JPS;) my handbags, ditto; my car, sparkling like the top of the Chrysler building; my desk and work materials, which are already in my car. Now onto the hard parts—jewelry, toiletries, linens and clothes. And oh yeah, my love life is absolutely 100% clean cause I ain't got one. So that's pretty cut and dry.

Guys and low-maint girls don't understand this, but packing is extremely traumatic especially when it's for a month. And especially when you don't know what exactly the month will hold. Casual nights? Black-tie affairs? Fashion shows? Anything is possible and like a good Girl Scout, I must be prepared for all situations.