The Wife Catalogue

I think I need a wife.

There should be a Wife Catalogue for busy moms like me.


That would really solve so many problems.


When I signed up for this marriage deal, I was excited to be a wife. It had a certain ring to it, ya know? I was thrilled to be called wife. To say “my husband.” For anyone who is newly married, I’m sure you can relate. It’s an odd feeling, one that takes some getting used to, particularly if you’re quite independent like I am.


All these many, many, many years later, I’m still happy to be JP’s wife. He knew going in I wasn’t really a traditional kind of wife—I don’t cook, sew (he’s not bad with the buttons, actually), and we share most chores (let’s not discuss the kitchen). The best thing I make is reservations.


But…it certainly would be easier if I had a wife of my own sometimes.


Sure, we have a cleaning lady that comes in every other week. (I mean, this is the OC. Though if I were truly OC, she would live in. Well, and my boobs wouldn’t be real. But that’s a whole different topic…) Paulina has been with us for over twelve years and she’s just lovely. Our little boys play together. I kiss her feet when she arrives. She does our laundry—do you know how big a deal that is? She still doesn’t know where everything goes, but I don’t care. She does it all and it’s clean. And yes, she does windows.


Now that I’m writing more intensively and helped found the Indie Book Collective, it’s the everyday stuff that just overwhelms me that I find impossible to keep up with. Kids’ forms and school emails, grocery shopping and meal planning (an evil contradiction in terms surely invented by a man in need of a wife), housework (a given), appointments, gifts for friends, and don’t even get me started on optionals like decorating or clothes shopping.

If I had a wife, she could do all that stuff. Of course, I could just hire an assistant. He or she could do it all (just organizing my mail would be huge—if you’ve sent me anything and I haven’t responded, now you know why). Paying an assistant might be tough though, considering finances and my love of all things Prada, etc (a girl can dream, right?).

(I do have the amazing Ashle, sitter extraordinaire, who comes in two days a week so I can do things like the IBC radio show without interruption from my five-year old puppy child who normally chooses that exact moment to throw a fit. She cooks, cleans & organizes me and I would marry her if I could. Course she’s already married, as am I, and neither of us is gay, but you see my point…).


And yet…an assistant would always be asking me what needed to be done and looking for feedback, or raises; whereas a wife would simply know me well enough to know instinctively what my needs are and would be able to figure out what to do and just do it. Come to think of it, why would I even consider an assistant? And wait, he OR she? He?


What was I thinking? I can’t see a dude figuring all that out…

It’s important to stay grounded, ya know?

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