A Plug for Polygamy

I new the day would come when my husband, Mike, would need the company of others. We’re your typical family – two kids, one lovingly spoiled Labrador named after the American composer of “Rhapsody in Blue.” Yet variety is the antidote to matrimony, right?

Fortunately for me, the variety my husband needed was the hiking companionship of a his best guy friend, who was also the best man at our wedding. He left before dawn to drive with Dave to Yosemite for a hike to Dewey Point, affording infinite views of Half Dome and Clouds Rest, plus a bunch of other big rocks the names of which I do not know.

A day of single parenthood, here I come.

It started out surprisingly well. Paige (7 months) and Nolan (3 years) and I slept in, snuggled in the red flannel sheets of the big boy bed (what Nolan calls the full size bed in his big boy room). He’s still sleeping in the crib room in, um, his crib. Paige sacks out in the Pac-n-Play, in the big boy room. The slept in until EIGHT, GLORIOUS EIGHT! Most mornings, N wakes at 6:30ish and Paige and I snooze til 7:00ish.

It bolstered my confidence, this sleeping in. As if I could attribute it to me. Hell, why not? Isn’t that what parents do? And strangers, for that matter. We attribute the good things kids do to our good parenting. And strangers are very talented at attributing our kids bad behavior to our bad parenting practices.

In the morning, we went to the Y. Can’t beat the free (and fabulous) day care at our location. Then we took my friend Stephanie (who’s seven point five months pregnant) to a few classy toy stores in Willow Glen, where toys are all made in the USA of wood from sustainable forests.

An experienced auntie, Steph was like a second parent, she essentially assumed control and authority or Nolan, wandering grabber of toys.

All grabbed out, Nolan crashed for a good two hours at home (good because Paige and I did likewise). But it was the long post-nap evening that made me wish for several wives.

One of us could have done the dishes while another bathed the kids (a rule in our polygamous fantasy family would have to be only two kids, the two we already have). Wife number three would straighten the house while number four (that’s me, but in no particular order), would have gone out to pick up take out and a bottle of wine.

With only one of me, kids in the carseat, we did manage to make it to Applebee’s curbside pick up. Hooray! Nolan and I celebrated by sharing limp lukewarm French fries on the way home.

I really can’t complain. The hub was back from Yosemite before bedtime and he takes off for the guy thing so seldom – too seldom – that he has enough dad currency to stay away perhaps for a 3-night backcountry trip. I’ll just summon the wives. The best part about them would definitely be the female company. The chatting, commiserating, and Chardonnay. And they’d probably love that we watch HGTV.

what made the day

The morning was ours - paige and nolan and I at home. with Gershwin, the 5 year old black lab-mix.  He languished on the couch, snoring loudly.  Seven month-old Paige and three year-old Nolan and I scrounged together a breakfast of pureed Fuji apples (Paige), peanut butter puffins and muscat grapes (Nolan), and rice-pecan-raisin bread with goat cheese (me), while the hub was out submitting tax info to our benevolent accountant Linda, after which he went for a run.  I am deeply proud of him for many reasons, and grateful for many more than the previous many amounts to.  He takes care of all that scares me (taxes, garbage, checkbook balancing) and provides a role model of consistency for our kids that I could only read to them about in a book (he's eaten oatmeal - the irish kind) for three weeks in a row for breakfast...he writes down his runs (when, where, how far)...he's eternally patient and even keeled. It was a good morning.  Nolan played in his new red retro kitchen.  Paige rolled around.  And I picked to dog hair off of her.  

In the afternoon, I went to Ray's house.  He's a lawyer I met at a courage campaign kick off community organizing meeting.  We were meeting today to train as canvassers, going door to door to talk with registered voters about their views on marriage for same sex couples.  I ended up pounding the pavement with Lisa, a Saratoga mom of two (one in college, one recently graduated, one gay).  I am a straight married woman with many gay friends, some of whom I consider closer than actual family.  I care about marriage equality because of them and because one of my kids might be gay  - who knows.  I don't want to tell them (or someone else's kids) that I stood by while their rights were erroded.

A beautiful sunny day.  Walking around Mountain View, downtown - it must have been the most sweetly scented neighborhood.  All I smelled as Lisa and I threaded our way through the neighborhood and our registered voters list was jasmine and fresh clean earth.  Most we talked to were supportive, two were reticent to talk, one was committed to her stance against marriage for same sex couples.  The canvassing, according to the courage campaign, was for the purpose of gathering information (who's against, who's for, what are their reasons), recruiting volunteers, and perhaps persuading a few fence sitters.  Another purpose I find to be important, though perhaps not as accomplished sounding, is just letting people of all opinions know that the conversation about marriage for same sex couples is continuing, regardless of prop 8's passage (anyone can dump money on an issue, even if the money's from other states).

I can't wait to canvass again.  Learning about my co-canvasser's family, meeting my fellow trainees at host Ray's house, watching and learning how to have conversations with people about an issue I feel passionately about and used to feel powerless about - all of these made the day.

As did coming home to a house containing four beating hearts I love.  The black dog who kisses my ear and demands ample petting and scratching.  The boy who piles books on my lap and sings songs that are our favorites (laurie berkner).  The baby girl who has peas speckled all over her white-embroidered-with-roses jumper.  The man who gives me time and doesn't ask or judge what I do with it, save to trust that it's for the benefit of me, the family, the family dog, humankind, or all of the above.