Surviving a Mixed Marriage

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I knew it going in.

And I knew what a big deal it was. Marriages have broken up over less. But Shea is such a good man.

So I did what women do: I told myself he would change. For me. Or when the kids came. And if he didn’t, I resolved to stick it out no matter what. I put on a brave face for my concerned family and friends.

When my hair dresser took me by the hands and said “Jen, you cannot yoke with a non-believer” I laughed it off.

“Darlene. It’s not like he doesn’t believe in God. He’s just an Angels fan. We’ll make it work.”

I come from a family that bleeds Dodger Blue, so far back that my grandparents watched them play in the Coliseum when they first came to LA from Brooklyn. All through my twenties, I was the queen of the last minute $8 ticket.

I know how to get out of Chavez Ravine ten different ways. Only real Dodger fans will understand the value of that. They also know that we don’t need no stinking tail-gating, not when there’s Dodger dogs and cold beer walking up and down the aisles. Plus, there’s nothing like a late September sunset over the hills of Griffith Park.

And Vin. Let’s don’t forget about Vin.

Shea became an Angels fan during his college years. He and his two best men were season ticket holders. They have tail-gating under the A down to a science. He was at that World Series game in 2002—you know the one, Game Six when the Angels were trailing 5-0 to the Giants going into the 7th inning. They rallied to win, forcing a Game 7. Which they won.

I don’t mind telling that story since, it’s about the Giants. I’m sad to say that we have Giants fans in the family. Every family has a burden to carry and this is ours. We married into them, but still. Shameful.

Before I would agree to Shea’s proposal, I protected myself. Our pre-nuptial agreement concerned one issue—team loyalty. We agreed that our male children could be Angels fans and the females would wear Dodger Blue.  That technically puts me up 5-2, if we count the four-legged females (and we do).

After a few years, we amended the agreement to include the rule that there could be no quoting of statistics over breakfast. No late night discussions on the strength of the NL West vs the AL West. No usurping of football games for baseball games unless it was a playoff situation. We do not rush home from anywhere for a baseball game and HGTV trumps baseball every time.

If either team ever made the World Series again, we would go.

If both teams made the World Series at the same time, we would legally separate for the duration of the Series and only reunite after a renegotiation of the terms of the agreement.

Every year at this time, we revisit the rules of our mixed marriage. Because almost every year, both teams hover on the edge of the playoff picture, forcing us to consider our options.

We also have a football conflict. I am a NY Jets fan. Shea is a Buffalo Bills fan. These teams play in the Same. Dang. Division. So two Sundays a year, we invoke the pre-nup for football.

This is a less stressful situation because neither of our teams have been any good for a long time.

I am sharing our story so that others know it can be done. Marriages can survive rivalries. Children of these marriages can grow up to be normal, functioning sports fans. It is even possible to sit in a rival team’s stadium and enjoy a game for the sake of your spouse. I always wear my Dodger Blue when I go to Angels stadium.

Once, a guy bought Shea beer out of sympathy.

Sometimes, you have to take one for the team.

Road Trip!

We just got home from a family road trip where we drove this many miles:

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The kids were rock stars. I mean…rock solid rock stars. We drove in 12 hour increments and they stood it. No tears, no whining, no fights.

Before you think we are raising angels, please. We have a 3rd row seat. Separation is the key to happiness, folks.

We stopped first in Temecula, near where we used to live. JFK Amy met us there with her family and pizza. We stayed at a SpringHill Suites and I have to give them huge props here because when Gabriel hurled his dinner and half the pool water all over our room at 11 pm, they very quickly moved us to a new room. File it away, Mama Network, it’s always good to know the hotel chains that can handle a family of five and a puking child without breaking a sweat.

The next day we hit the mall in Temecula, because Disney Store. And Williams-Sonoma. Then we went to Front Street in Old Town for dinner. We love Old Town Temecula and if you are ever in the area, it’s worth a visit. Craft breweries, antique stores and restaurants with locally sourced food and wine.

We made a point to stop by the old house and dig up the St. Joseph statue that helped us sell it. Then we had dinner with our old neighbors and the kids got to play with their friends. It was pretty awesome. And weird to see our house that’s not our house anymore.

Our time at Grandma’s and Papa’s can be summed up in one word: Water.

My parent’s pool is probably 40 years old. They don’t make them like that anymore. It’s huge and it’s deep, almost ten feet under where the diving board used to be.

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The kids were in it early and late and they got to do that most magnificent summertime So Cal thing—come home hot and sandy from the beach and jump in the cool pool to wash it all off.

We also hit the Long Beach Aquarium, which is such a great deal.

Shea took this picture with his cell phone!
Shea took this picture of a bioluminescent jellyfish with his cell phone!

On Sunday we had a big ol’ pool party. There are 7 August birthdays in our immediate and near family, from my niece turning 4 to my mom turning 69. There was cake. There was sangria. There was pulled pork.

And in the middle of it all, there was an army of preschool girls, long hair curly and straight, marching around my parent’s home with dollies under their arms. They were led by Faith, and she knows her way around Grammy’s, from the paints and crayons in the play room to the big bag of Otter Pops in the freezer in the garage.

They got what they wanted because they only asked the daddies. And if that didn’t work, they asked the Papa, who these days only loosely resembles the man I called “Dad”. I actually saw him stand and wait patiently while they each chose the perfect pop.

I felt better after he told the two oldest boys “Take what I give you and be happy!”

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When I see this picture, I can’t really blame him. But dear God, the men in this extended family of ours have to gather their wits about them before these ladies are teenagers or we are all in trouble. Do you hear me? TROUBLE.

Annie is not here because one of the themes of our trip was puking and it was her turn.

We drove off the driveway at 9 am and after stopping to meet my friend Jo and her kids—who were driving home from Oregon while we were driving home to Oregon—we pulled into our driveway at 10:30 pm.

At 2 am, Kate hurled all over her bed and needed a shower, completing the puke trifecta. It was ok though because I got to wash her hair, something that hadn’t happened in a week. “But mom,” she told me, “it wasn’t like I didn’t have a pool bath every single day.”

My wise girl. It’s true that in summer, soap and chlorine are interchangeable.

We have four weeks til school, but many of you are sending your chickens back to school in the next ten days.

I have one thing to say about that: YOU MADE IT.

 

 

 

 

 

 

Gummy Bear Stew

George is a legitimate Oregon outdoorsman.

He fishes. He crabs. He hikes. He hunts.

And he is the inventor of Gummy Bear Stew, which like all good ideas, was born from a mix of necessity and ingenuity.

Last summer, George took his son Jack and his nephew Hayden on a weekend camping trip. They unpacked the tent, the clothes, the sleeping bags and the camp stove. Then they unpacked the beer and the gummy bears and rested.

They are male, after all.

When George went back to unpack the food for dinner, he realized that somehow his keys had gotten locked in his truck.

He could have called his wife Angie, but it was getting dark.

So first, he built a fire. Then he drank some more beer. Then he cut the tops off the cans and turned them upside down.

He melted the gummy bears in the bottoms of the cans, stuck a spoon it in and called it dinner.

If you’re thinking Ewwwwww, I’m with you.

But the children must be fed.

We camped with George and Angie this weekend, and you better know Gummy Bear Stew was on the menu. Any kind of candy is fair game. Our stew had Gummy Bears, Sour Patch Kids, Rolos and marshmallows.

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This is not haute cuisine. And it tastes about how you imagine—like a melted Halloween candy bowl. If you don’t eat it fast enough, it hardens into a Gummy Bear Stew lollipop. One taste and my teeth almost fell out.

But camping moms know that the food rules are a wee bit different in the woods. And not 20 minutes earlier I was the mom who yelled “Don’t give me that natural bug spray crap! The baby needs DEET!!! NOW!!!”

The kids ate that stuff up. And then bounced off into the woods with flashlights to search for windigos and stump trolls, too amped up on liquid sugar to be scared.

Summer Boom

Back in California, we had summer thunderstorms.

But nothin’ like what happened on Tuesday.

If we lived somewhere flat, I’d have been huddling in the cellar. Because there is no that the sky can be these colors without mayhem following.

This was the beginning...
This was the beginning…

Sustained wind at 40 mph? Blowing all the newly mown field grass and dirt up the street?

Up to 100 lightning strikes per hour?

An inch of rain in an hour?

“Hasn’t been like this since I was a girl” said my neighbor who has lived here her entire life. “Did you bring it with you?”

The rainbow came in the middle
The double rainbow came in the middle

And my husband, standing outside with the camera. No matter our cell phones were blaring warnings to stay inside, downstairs and away from windows.

The dogs were not impressed. Sugar retreated to my closet and stayed there til morning. Lizzie, who is too stubborn to follow Sugar’s example on principle, had to get the fur scared off her on the balcony by a huge boom of thunder.

It was a fine and awe-inspiring display of the majesty of the heavens. Take a look. These pictures are basically the same view over the course of an hour.

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My Favorite Heroines

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With full knowledge that Jane Austen is not an American and Charles Frazier is a man…

Dana and I talked about doing something literary for Women’s History Month. We thought that choosing literature as a topic would narrow our focus.

As if. I finally decided to share my three favorite heroines, in the order that I met them.

Scarlett O’Hara Hamilton Kennedy Butler

I read Gone with the Wind in 5th grade. I had seen the movie for the first time and asked my mom to read it. She told me that I had to wait a few years. But then my class went on a field trip to the library and I went into the adult section, grabbed the book and palms sweating, checked it out.

By now I have read the book at least 15 times. It’s full of thorny cultural problems, such as slavery and the glorification of the early days of the KKK. Some people may argue that you cannot read the book without the context. Fair enough. But then we also have to see Scarlett as more than a Southern belle.

All of the female characters in the book are complex, and for most, their movie counterparts are only shadows. It’s really worth the read, all 1500 pages. Scarlett has always fascinated me: a young girl forced to grow up too early and by quickly changing rules in wartime, who then must find a way to stand and lead her people out of trouble. She was the first such female heroine I had ever encountered and I just knew that I would make the same choices in her shoes.

I feel her triumph at the picnic at Twelve Oaks, surrounded by admirers. I understand how Ashley’s rejection and Rhett’s mockery drive her to accept Charles’ proposal, because I was young and stupid once.

I admire her determination when she stays in Atlanta and delivers Melanie’s baby, then hauls everyone home to Tara–including her own son by Charles–come hell or high water. And when she shakes her fist at the heavens and swears that neither she, nor any of her kin, will ever be hungry again, I believe her. She’s a survivor.

I forgive her Frank Kennedy, because selfish Sue Ellen would’ve married him and left Tara to rot. I forgive her post-war greed and Yankee-associating because she was traumatized.

The whole Ashley-Rhett-Scarlett triangle is tiring by the end, and Bonnie’s death is a literary cruelty that I will take up with Ms. Mitchell one fine day in the hereafter, but when Rhett walks out on her, I am always outraged. Scarlett is no Steel Magnolia, a passive aggressive mess of manners and emotions. She is simple, what you see is what you get and practical as straight line from here to there. I want to scream “What else does she have to do?!!!” But of course, I know: she has to grow beyond the refugee to the wisdom of mid-life. I love that Mitchell allows us to consider that she may do exactly that.

Ada Monroe

When I first met Ada in the beginning chapters of Cold Mountain, she was not interesting. Fluttery and foolish. I was bored by her inability to adapt. I almost gave up on her when the rooster attacked her in the boxwoods. For the love of goodness.

Then came Ruby, one of the greatest supporting characters of all time. I’d not keep a flogging rooster. Ruby’s presence gives us one of the greatest chapter titles in all of literary history: Verbs, all of them tiring. She is the stone on which Ada sharpens her life.

The love story between Inman and Ada is gloriously awkward and real. By the time he gets home, Ada is a more full and more simple version of her old self and all of his illusions have been destroyed by the war. In a way they grew up together, apart. The social barriers that stood between them before the war are gone. Life in the Appalachians is beautiful but hard. Ada has to abandon her Low Country belle values. With Ruby’s help she becomes a practical, strong and courageous woman.

It is the only thing that makes Inman’s loss bearable. And the presence of Ruby and her Georgia Boy frees Ada to stand alone for the rest of her life instead of driving her towards dependence on some other man hastily married to legitimize her child and save her financially.

The friendship between Ruby and Ada is a safe, soft place, the kind of relationship between two women that should stand as an example to us all. It’s a soul sisterhood, and if we don’t have something like it, we need to look within ourselves to find the reason.

Anne Elliot

How could I choose Anne over Elinor or Elizabeth? Truthfully, Elinor is too careful and Elizabeth’s snarky relationship with Darcy is tiring. I feel a kinship to Anne, from Persuasion, maybe because we both came to love later in our lives. Or maybe because in Anne’s story, she is the one who needs the second chance.

Anne rejected a good man in her youth because of her family’s disapproval, even though she loved him. Nine years later, she is still unmarried when Captain Wentworth returns, triumphantly wealthy, to find a wife. Anne recognizes immediately upon seeing him again that she has always loved him. But instead of throwing herself at his mercy, Anne is a portrait of calm humility. She doesn’t chase him. She waits for him to battle his pride, and in the end, she is the winner.

She’s very different from Scarlett and Ada, but for me, she is the perfect culmination of Austen’s famous nouns: sense and sensibility, pride and prejudice. She didn’t start that way, but she grew in age and wisdom and learned to trust herself and her decisions. And she does it all with kindness and poise.

There is not as much meat to Austen’s heroines as there is to Scarlett or Ada, but they are good examples for us nonetheless. Our rights as women don’t always have to be defended with angry recriminations. At some point all the anger becomes noise. We can be the women we want to be with manners and beauty and faith and reserve our judgment for the moments when we really need it, which makes it that much more powerful.

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The website A Mighty Girl is a wonderful resource for history and literature that showcases women and girls doing big things in the world. They also can be found on Facebook for a daily dose of mighty girls doing mighty things in the world