Vacation Stack

Earlier this August, I prepared to take a vacation with my family.

We are very fortunate. My husband’s family has a beautiful house in the Berkshires. We planned a 10-day trip there.

On the vacation agenda was hiking, an activity the entire family enjoys. We planned to take trips to the beach, have a museum day, a family movie night and meals cooked on the grill. We mapped out a nice balance of activities and relaxation.

In addition, I wanted to spend a substantial amount of time sitting and reading. I wanted to bring a stack of books with me on vacation.

My plans included reading some of many books, rather than packing and finishing two or three books.

About a week before the vacation, I set out to assemble my stack of books.

There were two books from the library that I had already started and was enjoying. I renewed those books. I packed them for my vacation.

One of the books was a gift from a friend who works in publishing. She is a book matchmaker for me. She is excellent at this. In addition, the book she sent me was something that she may have thought I needed to read because of some of my behaviors while her children and mine attended the same elementary school.

I know how to take a hint. I added that book to the reusable shopping bag I had designated for the stack.

I then consulted my Books to Read list. I ordered the rest of my stack from Amazon Prime.

Ordering all of these books was a splurge. Most of the time I reserve books at the library. Some of the books on my list would be so popular that I would need to wait a long time. Vacation time is like a special treat. I wanted my books to feel that way too.

I fashioned my order to be a mix of books I really wanted to read. I included some fiction and nonfiction. Since I was spending money on the books and helping to keep the publishing industry afloat, I was savvy. I ordered one book that the other three members of my family would want to read when I am finished.

Two of the books I ordered would be books I would want to keep and place on the shelf I have designated as my personal reference library.

One of the books had no real rhyme or reason other than an intriguing review I read.  This one book, purchased in hardcover – was an impulse item.

Once we arrived at our vacation locale, I unpacked the stack and arranged it fetchingly on a dresser in the bedroom.

The next morning, I carried the stack to the living room. Over the course of the vacation, the stack resided on the screened porch, the dining room table, the coffee table and the bedroom. One or two of the books would accompany me on vacation jaunts.

I thought about the best way of approaching my stack. An icebreaker was in order.

I began by reading five pages of each of the books. Once I read five pages of each book, I could read more of each book, more of only one book, or a mix.  This is a construct I found extremely appealing. That is why I continued to do that for the duration of the vacation. That is why I adapted this plan once I arrived back home.

I loved reading my five pages, then adding that book to the bottom of the stack. I loved rotating the books. I loved the sculptural quality of the stack. It was like a horn of plenty, only with books.

Near the end of our vacation, some extended family members vacationed with us at the country house. It did not take long for the other vacationers to notice the stack. The stack makes quite a statement. The stack is a conversation opener.

One vacationing family member asked if she could look at the books in the stack. I discovered that I liked nothing better than have a family member who is also a friend leaf through my stacked books.

The stack led to many conversations about the books - whether certain books were as extraordinary as people said they were, what advice given in books was good and which authors had their heads up their asses when it came to certain topics.

It was also nice to discuss which book reviewers had true understanding of a book and which clearly had their heads up their asses.

It was fun to hold forth on which writers were the real deal, which books were difficult to put down and which books could be a little slow going if I had to read more than five pages a day.

I finished two books in the stack while on vacation. The stack is now residing on the coffee table of my apartment. I have added two more books to the stack because I have discovered I like having a large stack. I like reading many books at once.

I am planning to spend a three-day weekend at the country house.  I look forward to assembling the Labor Day weekend stack. Watch this space for future stacks.

 Book titles in photograph, from top:

1) How To Raise An Adult by Julie Lythcott-Haims

 2) The Rocks by Peter Nichols

3) Go Set A Watchman by Harper Lee

4) I Know How She Does It by Laura Vanderkam

5) How To Be A Friend To A Friend Who’s Sick by Letty Cottin Pogrebin

6) Signs Of Life by Natalie Taylor

7) The Rosie Effect by Graeme Simsion

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The Hat I Didn't Donate

I've been working hard lately on my living space. We have been editing and organizing our belongings. The things we are keeping are lovingly displayed, put away mindfully and stored in ways that make sense.

Many items have lost their relevance. If they are in good enough condition, we've donated them to family members, the farmer’s market fabric recycling or the Salvation Army.

We've been able to throw away lots of old financial records and stuff in poor condition that is just taking up what I like to call valuable real estate. We live in NYC. We have big closets, but no attic or basement. We don't even have a junk room.

It's been quite mind-clearing and liberating.

Recently I opened a huge, beat up Rubbermaid box where we've been keeping our off -season items for as long as I can remember. In the spring and then the fall, there is an activity I call switching the closets and drawers. It's exactly what it sounds like. Because I have growing children, it also means editing out outgrown clothes and incorporating the larger things I've saved.

I started sorting things. I came across a winter hat. This is a hat that is no longer worn. My first instinct was to put it in the rapidly growing donate pile. The pile with the bathing suits that no longer fit, the tee shirts that are deemed too babyish and the shorts that one child wore that would certainly be too scratchy for the other.

The idea of donating this hat felt suddenly devastating. So I stopped and listened. Because I have successfully given away so many things without a trace of heartache or hesitation gave me special credibility in my own mind. It looked as though I needed to keep this hat.

This hat did not belong to my son that died. It belonged to the living, breathing, growth spurting boy, bustling about with his size 11 feet, taking up his fair share of space, both mental and physical.

This hat wasn't one from his babyhood, sweetly placed on that tiny head when I brought him home from the hospital in December of 2000.

This hat is more recent that that.

The hat was either a Christmas gift or a birthday gift from my mother. She has a knack for figuring out what this child needs to wear when. The hat was a big hit with him. It's soft and velvety on the outside and fluffy and plush on the inside. It had flaps to keep his ears covered. Ever since he was a newborn, this kid has hated any kind of wind.

He wore this hat for three winters straight, from 6th through 8th grade. This hat kept him warm and comfortable that whole time.

I could list all of the things that my boy and I experienced together while he was wearing the hat. Suffice it to say I will never forget these times. Three winters is a long time in a boy's life. A lot of growing happened and a lot of making me proud.

The hat became a signature piece for my boy. Until it wasn't anymore.

In December of last year, my son surprised me by wanting to browse with me at a craft fair. He suddenly had the bandwidth for this activity. He selected a brand new hat out of the blue. It was an updated classic. When he tried it on, he looked like a combination of a GQ model and a hipster.

He wore this hat every day until he misplaced it, and then located it again in the lost and found box at school. I finally put it away in the off-season drawer. Our renovation affords us the luxury of getting rid of the banged up, cracked Rubbermaid box.

This was the new signature piece. It was the 9th grade hat. Time will tell if it is also a winter of 10th grade hat or not. I suspect it will. He was pretty happy to see it once he laid his hands on it again.

There are times when I feel no need to keep an object. I'll remember the Pokémon pajamas in my heart. I have pictures of him wearing the threadbare Little Miss Spider shirt he was so attached to when he was five.

But this hat is different. My son has moved on to a new hat. It's only right. Growing up is his job. I'm glad to see him do this. Especially after what transpired before, with his brother.

It was his hat for so long that I cannot imagine anyone else wearing it. It's like Patrick Ewing and the number 33 jersey. Number 33 is his number. And this is my son's hat.

There is a small pile of precious clothing at the bottom of the Rubbermaid box. These are the items that I didn't let go of. The baby stuff is somewhere else with the baby stuff. This is different.

The purple sweater my son wore day in day out in nursery school will be kept. There are other signature pieces too. They won't live in the Rubbermaid box anymore. I'm getting something nice for them from The Container Store.

I'm keeping this hat for the rest of my life.

I'll be 75 years old someday, god willing. I'll have my box on an accessible shelf. I'll take it down and run my fingers over the soft clothes. They're all soft because that's all this child will wear.

I'll remember the fit he pitched on a busy sidewalk one day and how he recovered and then devoured some pizza. I'll remember how he survived croup like nothing ever happened. I'll remember the extraordinary two year old who said please put me to bed mommy when it looked like I might be too busy socializing to remember that it was past his bedtime.

The other day my son and I were having a conversation. He was having a craving for his Dad's brownies. Let's ask dad to make some, I said.

What will happen when I grow up and I don't live with you anymore, he asked? Will dad send me some brownies? He seemed to need some reassurance.

Of course he will, I said. Dad could also use your kitchen to do some baking for you when we come to visit.  Would you like us to visit? He nodded yes.

I thought about the idea that my son could grow up to be a baker like his dad. Maybe he'll make his own brownies and invent his own recipe. I decided not to mention that yet. At this juncture I like thinking about the first scenario better.

Here is the hat I will be keeping for the rest of my life.

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Spontaneous Appreciation and Encouragement

When I get a new haircut or a new outfit, I'm expecting some compliments. I don't have to fish for them. They come naturally. It's all very nice. But I'm not surprised by any of it.

Today, I'm writing about the times that are unexpected. Most of what I'm referring to has taken place over time at my husband's family's country house.

When people live in NYC, if they are fortunate, blessed, hard working, wealthy, lucky or some combination, they might have a second residence that is not in the city. This second residence is out in the middle of nature. It is called a country house.

Friends of mine who are not members of my husband's family like to point out that husband's family's country house is quite a mouthful. They'll ask me what I'm doing over the weekend. If they are a new friend, I'll explain that my husband's family has a place in the country. If they are an old friend, I'll just say we are going to the country.

Some people ask why I don't just say our country house. That would simplify things. Yes, I’ve been visiting this country house since I was 19 years old. I am now aged 52. You may do the math.

I like to say husband's family's country house because it feels more accurate. This is not my country house.

When it comes to our two-bedroom apartment, otherwise known as our primary residence I take full ownership in conversation by calling it our apartment.

When it comes to the country house, I like to maintain a little distance with it. A little distance between this country house and myself is a good thing. This is true even while I am physically present at the country house.

Last Christmas, our nuclear family spent Christmas at the country house. Members of Jeremy's extended family spent the actual holiday with members of their extended family who are not members of our extended family. Then after spending a few days with these other family members, Jeremy's extended family came to the country house.

Several hours before they were due to arrive, it was time for us to prepare. This preparation was a multi-tiered process.

First, my teenagers had to vacate the rooms they were staying in and move to different rooms. We had managed to spread ourselves out quite nicely when we had the country house to ourselves. It was now time to consolidate our family into a different configuration.

First, we had to wake the teenagers up. Then the teenagers had to physically leave their respective rooms. The teenager’s belongings, which were strewn about each room had to be taken to the new quarters.

Once this was accomplished and the teenagers were either skiing or gaming, it was time for me to do my thing.

When teenagers have occupied a room for several days, there are certain niceties that I like to extend to the next extended family members who occupy the rooms. This involves some work because when teenagers settle into a room, they really settle in.

I do some dusting and straightening. I change the sheets and launder the sheets. When I am finished with that, I will clean and disinfect the bathrooms adjacent to the rooms the teens have been occupying.

The teenagers have been neat and respectful in the bathrooms, but much primping, hair brushing and bathing goes on in there.

You may ask me why the teenagers are not doing this themselves. That is a fair question. Quite frankly, I'd rather they ski, game, or do their holiday break homework packets. I'd rather they go on Tumblr, watch Buzzfeed, or sleep in their new quarters.

The reason for this is selfish. I need some peace and quiet. I need a bit of me time. I need the peace and quiet that I normally experience when my children are at school. I need to create a sort of peace and quiet bank for when extended families come to the country house. I save up the peace and quiet for later. I accomplish this peace and quiet by cleaning areas of the country house my children have occupied.

The next morning I greeted extended family members who arrived in the wee hours the night before. I was bustling about the dining area, facilitating breakfast for the teenagers.

My sister in law, who is also a friend of mine, made a general inquiry to the extended family members who had gathered and began to occupy the dining area. She wanted to know who made up the beds upstairs.

I indicated that I made the beds. She and her husband, my brother in law, exchanged what I took to be positive, married people-type knowing glances. Then my sister in law extended some unexpected and spontaneous appreciation.

She told me that my bed making made the bed exceedingly comfortable. Additionally, my brother in law added that it was quite cozy.

I have already mentioned that I had made these beds for selfish reasons. But the fact that two people were very positive about it and thought to mention it made the entire activity a win-win.

Months later, I sometimes still think about the unexpected compliments and feel warmly toward these individuals.

During a different visit to the country house, I was engaging in another selfish activity. I was occupying a large portion of the floor in one of the common areas and monopolizing the TV. I was using this television to broadcast Energy Flow, one of my exercise DVDs.

I had already apologized in advance for the peaceful and meditative music coming from the DVD. I commenced moving this way and that. It's mostly yoga with some hybrid Pilates mixed in.

As I endeavored to strengthen my core and enhance my flexibility my brother in law walked into the room. This is a different brother in law from the one I mentioned earlier. This brother in law is a physical therapist.

The Physical Therapist said something very softly almost to himself, as if not to disturb me. I don't remember precisely what it was. I can tell you that is was complimentary about my workout. He did not stay very long as he was primarily using the room as a thoroughfare rather than occupying it.

A compliment is always appreciated no matter who gives it to you. However, there are some compliments that hold more weight because of the person giving it and what their specialty is.

Having a Physical Therapist who is also fit compliment your workout is one such time. I compare it to this. Say I am PTA Secretary like I was one year while my kids were in elementary school. Then imagine Barack Obama making a surprise visit to Hamilton Heights School. He watches the proceedings. Then when it's almost over, he compliments me on my leadership skills.

Sometimes I'll be working out and inwardly complaining that I wish the workout was over. Some days take more discipline than others getting started. That’s when the offhand words of the physical therapist/brother in law pop into my head. Then I have a little extra to give to the current workout. I also feel warmly toward this individual.

There have been many such times. Here is one other time that really sticks out. This compliment was from a complete stranger.

It was the day after we had returned to our primary residence from the country house. I had just finished some cardio on the treadmill. I was on the floor doing some stretches.

One of the compliments I give myself frequently is about my flexibility. Because I value my flexibility, I take care of it by stretching.

The doorbell rang. Jeremy opened the door for the FedEx man. As Jeremy signed for the package, the fit FedEx man noticed our treadmill. He noticed me stretching in front of it. He accurately put two and two together.

First he said that it was nice to see people who really use the treadmill. Jeremy said that we also utilize the treadmill for drying clothes but only when we are not exercising on it.

The fit FedEx man then began a short conversation with me about working out. I felt complimented because it was a serious workout conversation initiated by someone who obviously works out a lot where he was assuming I work out a lot. It implied that he thought of me as another fit individual. I am not as fit as him. But he thought he and I were in the same general category.

It was a very pleasant exchange.

If we still had our treadmill I'd say that I think of this spontaneous encouragement every time I use it. But we got rid of it due to space issues during our apartment renovation. But I still do think about it at random times.

When I see something complimentary about another person, I don't hold it in. I give out the compliment. It's not just getting encouragement that makes me feel warmly. Giving it out also makes me feel warmly toward that person. Much more warmly than if I didn't say anything.

They Create: Jeremy Shatan’s Playful Paper Cut-Outs

I’ve said it before. My husband, Jeremy Shatan, is a Renaissance man.

He raises money to help children with cancer. He is a serious baker. He’s an avid skier. He writes about music for his blog, AnEarful.

He does too many things well to list them all here. In addition to all of the other stuff he works on, Jeremy also makes these whimsical and wonderful paper cut-outs.

Ever since we became a couple, Jeremy and I have always been intent on creating our own holiday traditions. We tend to take classic elements from Halloween, Thanksgiving, birthdays, Christmas, and Chanukah, and give them a unique spin. We pick and choose what we like, discard what we don’t, then reinvent the rest.

Jeremy began making the paper cutouts as alternative to commercial, mass-produced decorations when our children were very small. We are still enjoying the first creations he made 17 years ago. Over the years, he's added to the collection, inspired by birthdays and other celebrations. They hang from our doorways and ceilings. They're affixed to our walls, windows and front door.

The paper cutouts are serving an even higher purpose now. Our firstborn, Jacob, inspired Jeremy's first cutouts and lots of other art, too. Jacob passed away from childhood cancer at the age of two and a half. Every year, we form a group called Team Jacob in his honor. We participate in a special walk to remember him and raise money to help children with cancer. You can learn more here.

For the last two years, Jeremy and I have created a theme for Team Jacob based on some of Jacob's favorite things. In 2013 our theme was the Granny Smith apple because not only was this one of Jacob's favorite foods, he also loved noticing apples everywhere we went.

When Jacob was being treated with chemotherapy, it was a challenge getting him to eat enough. So Jeremy made Jacob special waffles called Power Pack Waffles. They were loaded with the nutrition and calories Jacob needed. In 2014, Jacob's waffle became our theme.

I wanted to share Jeremy's thoughts, process and creations with you. So I interviewed him.

Describe what you remember about the early days of your paper cutouts. Why paper cutouts as opposed to paintings, photography or a different art form?

When it came time to celebrate Jacob's first birthday, I didn't like the commercial themes and designs of the stuff they sold for kids' parties back then. Since it was common to have wall and hanging decor made of heavy card stock, I thought I would just make my own. 

I wanted them to be simple shapes that Jacob could recognize - and I'm good at drawing simple things. At first I thought I would do imaginary bugs but then I decided on hippos, rhinos and elephants as they are easier to cut out and we had a history of buying stuffed animals of those creatures. 

When it came time to make them, I found it very easy to make a line drawing and then cut it out using an X-ACTO knife. I discovered a real affinity for that tool, enjoying the sensation of the blade cutting through paper. I often enter a flow state when I cut, a relaxed, focused mode where every instinct is the right one.

I never considered other media as photography was an involved process back then and I wasn't confident in my abilities with paint. I also like the absolutely graphic quality of colored paper, giving each element of the final product an even, overall color. 

Talk a little about how our friends and family have responded to your cutouts.

The best first audience for the cutouts was Jacob. We hung up the hippo, rhino and elephant from a beam in our apartment while he was napping before his first birthday party. When he woke up, I brought him out and held him up high, near the decorations. "Wow!" he said in a drawn out and clearly enunciated expression of wonder. At that moment I knew I had done something very special. Those three are still hanging in our apartment, 17 years later.

When it comes to the holiday cutouts, everyone has loved them. The feedback I've gotten tells me that people like the fresh approach to classic themes, somehow making stock images like wreaths and menorahs new to them again.

Having birthday parties for our kids year after year took the themes of the cutouts to a different level. Describe a birthday party or two and how you used the cutouts and other paper elements in your decor.

When Hannah was little, she got really into the circus. She liked anything to do with that form of entertainment so we made that the theme of her party. I really challenged myself with some of my most elaborate designs yet, including a decorated elephant standing on a drum and a trapeze artist swinging through the air. 

The year before that, we paid tribute to Hannah's well-rounded interests. She liked ducks, trucks, and globes ("Eart!" She would say, pointing) so that's what I made for her.  We would've had to buy three different sets to cover all those bases!

Noah's parties were fun because he was all boy, so that meant balls of all shapes and sizes one year and a three-car steam engine the next. 

Could you give our readers a paper cutout "recipe" along with some helpful hints? 

I always start with a sort of Platonic image in my mind: what would the perfect Santa hat look like? Of course, that image is filtered through my taste, memory and perception so it can't help but be an individualized idea. 

Once I have the image in my mind, I think about how I can achieve it using the minimum amount of elements. In the case of the Santa hat, I knew I would need a red triangle, a fluffy white brim and a fluffy ball for the top.  After choosing my paper, I draw each element, which is one translation of the image into reality, and then cut out the shape, which is another. I accept the changes that occur during this translation process - as long as I'm satisfied with the final results, of course. 

Then I glue everything together. If it's going to hang from the ceiling, then it needs to be double-sided, which means making two of every element, except for the central one (in this example, I only needed one red triangle) - another good reason to use as few pieces as possible. 

Here are some technical tips:

1. If you're unfamiliar with X-ACTO knives, experiment before your first project. Don't press - just drag your blade through the paper (I often think of molecules parting, believe it or not). Buy lots of blades and change them often. Dull blades rip paper. 

2. Splurge on glue. It can be seriously annoying to have all these beautiful bits of cut paper and then your final piece has all kinds of bubbles and bulges because you used Elmer's glue. I used to use this weird stuff that came in a white tub. I think I got it at Kate's Paperie.  In any case, go to a good store, ask their advice, and make no object of money. Cheap paper is fine - cheap glue is untenable. 

3. Have fun with it! If you enjoy the process then you can't help but be satisfied with the result. 

They Create: The Playful Paper Cutouts of Jeremy Shatan is the second in an ongoing series about creative people across many disciplines.

Read They Create: The Lego Artistry of Don Rice.

Halloween Cat

Acrobat for Hannah's circus birthday party

Jeremy made me Mother's Day and birthday cards using his beloved X-ACTO knife & glue

Detail of oft-worn Team Jacob granny smith apple shirt

Team Jacob wore the waffle in 2014

Thanksgiving pie, 3rd birthday clown & Christmas candy cane

This pumpkin is faded from many years of Halloween window display

Chanukah gelt

Night Before French Toast

When I was a kid, my mother started this tradition. I vaguely remembered that she got the idea from someone else, but I couldn't remember who. Then one day, a couple of years ago, I posted about the tradition on Facebook. 

A couple of extended family members saw the post and told me who it started with. It was my step-grandma Shirley. My mother picked it up from her. Turns out that it's branched out quite far now. I do the tradition. Shirley's granddaughters and granddaughters-in-law also do the tradition. My mother still does the tradition. It would not surprise me at all if Hannah carried it on someday.

This tradition is called Night Before French Toast.

Every Christmas Eve, my mother would make Night Before French Toast. You refrigerate it all assembled over night and put it in the oven the next morning. This dish works extremely well on Christmas morning. The whole idea is that you are not chained to the stove, but you can still serve a fancy and delicious breakfast.

Soon after I got married, my mother gave me the recipe. She typed it on this recipe card. I still have it.

I started making Night Before French Toast when I wasn't with my mother for Christmas. The first year was when I was expecting Jacob. In December of 1996, Jeremy and I had the sweetest little Christmas at home in Park Slope. 

I made the Night Before French Toast this Christmas. I also recommend it at other times. It's fantastic when you have people over for brunch. Jeremy and I once hosted his family along with relatives from California at our place one year, and I made two big batches. People loved it. The only person I've encountered that doesn't is Noah. I feel that he may come around to it someday.

I also find that it works really well when kids sleep over at our house. It's very special but it's almost no effort for me. It goes over really well and then I am perceived as the cool mom.

If you want a great New Year's day breakfast, make it and put it in the fridge before you go out on New Year's Eve. 

This is the basic recipe. Over the years I've adapted it. 

One of my secrets is that I substitute buttermilk for half of the milk in the recipe. I started doing this because Jeremy and I are crazy about buttermilk. I believe that the buttermilk makes it very custardy on the inside and crisp on the outside.

You can also vary the bread that you use. Lately, I've been making it with Challah bread. That is a natural for this recipe and it goes with it beautifully.

I've also used sourdough bread with Nite Before French Toast. I'm a big fan of the sweet/sour/savory combo. Hence the buttermilk and sourdough bread.

On Polygamy

Jeremy and I enjoyed watching Big Love on TV. Occasionally, I've been known to watch Sister Wives. This has given me the opportunity to think about the kind of arrangement where a man may have more than one wife.

Because Jeremy and I come from a tradition where you are allowed only one wife at a time, naturally the guy on Big Love having three at once brought up some questions. Which one do you think is the prettiest? I asked Jeremy. If you could pick only one of these wives which one would it be?

He chose wife #1, the dark haired beauty with high cheekbones. She also seemed to be the most stable and reasonable of the three.

My own choice, if I were a dude from this religion, would be wife #2. The chick was seriously high maintenance and very emotional. However, in my opinion she was the most gorgeous and interesting. I know it would end badly and I would regret it later. But what fireworks while it lasted!

One of the main advantages to having sister wives, is the social aspect of it. I imagine there would be a lot of hanging out. Because there would be two or more other women there, you'd have a live-in captive audience for whatever was bothering you.

There are things that interest women more than they interest men. For instance, I feel like the sister wives would be really interested and supportive if I received an email that really hurt my feelings. I could discuss the hurtful email all I wanted without their eyes glazing over, then Jeremy would be free to pursue what interests him. This is a good example of the kind of camaraderie I could expect from other wives.

However, this advantage could quickly turn into a problem. Since I am Jeremy's only wife, in order to socialize with other women, I either have to text one and ask them to lunch, or do laundry in our building's laundry room when friends are down there. The friends aren't just in my apartment at all hours.

While having the other wives around all the time might prove fun at first, all of the conversation, wine drinking, reality TV viewing, discussing meals, venting about the kids and reassuring other wives that they aren't fat, would eat into productivity and individual goals. I've come to the conclusion that being the only wife here is good in terms of getting anything done.

Another situation that comes with some pros and cons would be the sharing. I really would be fine sharing some clothes with my sister wives. In fact, there is a potential there for having many more clothes to choose from than I do now. There's a chance that the fat sister wife might feel left out of the closet shopping and clothes swapping. What fat sister wife? Come on. You know there would be one.

I'm a little more leery of sharing makeup. This is what I would say to my sister wives. You can borrow my makeup if you ask. And then it depends on which thing you want to borrow. Bronzer yes, lipstick, no. And make sure you clean my brushes when you're finished.

The biggest problem with the sister wife thing is the part where I would have to share Jeremy with them. I'm sorry, but that doesn't float my boat. I'm possessive. Whenever Jeremy goes on a business trip, I remind him no hanky panky.

Even if I could get my mind around sharing Jeremy, I know I'd be really secretly competitive with the other wives. I would be all nice and we're all in this relationship together on the outside. But on the inside it would be a different story. It would bring out my worst qualities.

I'd be on the treadmill working out, keeping myself all tight and fit. I'd look over at my lazy sister wives, sitting on their asses eating Ferrero Rocher and reading magazines and feel really superior. I'm ashamed to admit this, but it's true. I would be committing the sin of pride.

I would do all sorts of things to try to be the most pleasing sister wife. Some of them would be the same things I do now because face it, I want to remain vivacious and interesting. But if the competition were in my house, day in day out, I'd have to seriously up my game. I'd have to buy a blow dryer and learn to use it. I might feel obligated to get a Brazilian.

As I look around my very nice but small apartment, some practical matters come to mind. Where would we put everyone? It's not just the wives. Naturally, if Jeremy and I were polygamous, the other wives would want to have children with Jeremy. I couldn't very well insist that he only have children with me. That wouldn't be fair.

I can tell you right now, Jeremy and I would not want to move to a McMansion in the suburbs. Or a creepy compound.

The one thing I could see working, if I had to be in such a relationship, would be a large loft space in an up and coming neighborhood. Presumably, at least some of the wives would have lucrative careers and maybe then we could all live somewhere really hip.

There would be the corporate sister wife making the big bucks. Maybe there would be another DIY crafty, urban homesteading  type and she could raise chickens in the tiny yard outside of the loft and sew clothes for everyone. If it weren't for me being such a jealous type, this scenario could work. It isn't half bad.

But there's another issue. I'm a feminist. This patriarchal bullshit would bug me. I also feel that what's good for the goose is good for the gander. So if I'm going to have to share with other wives, then there needs to be brother husbands, or at least some boyfriends.

Which reminds me of something that happened way back when, at my kids' nursery school. I'd picked up Noah from the nursery school class and was strapping him into his stroller. At the same time, I was handing my sister in law's phone number to one of the dads who was there to collect his kid.

The reason I was doing this was that the dad was kindergarten shopping for his son, and was strongly considering a school that my niece and nephew were attending at the time. My sister in law said she would be happy to talk to the dad about this school.

So I'm getting ready to leave, and I notice one of the teaching assistants give me a look. What? I say to her.

She just keeps giving me this significant look. Then I figure it out. She thinks I'm giving my phone number to this dad so we could hook up later. I can tell by the look on her face, that is what she is thinking. What a dirty mind on that woman!

Listen. I say to her. Don't give me that look. I'm not even giving him my phone number. It's someone else's.

I continued. I already have one husband. And let me tell you, one man is more than enough for me. And with these kids and my job and this husband I am more than busy. I am too busy and too tired from this husband and these kids to have any kind of affair.

I could have left it at that. But one thing I have to mention is that although this dad is very nice he was not my type. I felt a little bad that the teacher's assistant thought I'd give out my phone number and plan a hook up with him, when there were other dads there that I would easily choose over him.

I wasn't choosing them, because of being more than satisfied with Jeremy and also too exhausted to think of such a thing. Also Jeremy is much more handsome than any of the dads. I'm just saying.

So I added one more thing. And if I did want to have an affair with someone, it wouldn't be him.

By this time, the teaching assistant was lying down on the classroom rug, near the dress up corner laughing hysterically. She was basically incapacitated. That's what she gets for getting up in my business I thought. I handed Noah some Pirate’s Booty and wheeled him out of there.