Married with Kids

This might sound as a terrible cliche for a woman of my age (no mentioning of digits here. We are in LA people!) to contemplate about marriage, kids versus career and freedom, but nevertheless it’s my thoughts and I’m going to share them with you.

Yesterday I went to a dinner party at one of my new girl friends here in LA. A potluck. Everybody brings something and we all bond over wine, fantastic meatballs, tons of salads, brownies, strawberries and a fantastic view. We’re in The Hills. Of course. A really great initiative. All super smart, well educated, beautiful ladies. And all super married with kids. Except me. And I’m probably silly to bring this up because these ladies have not been brain damaged by the diaper, dah-dah, baby talk virus that undertake some females. No these chicks are cool in their Bottega Veneta heels, designer jeans and purses, six pack tummies and fabulous shiny, saloon hair. They conversate about recession, stock markets, politics and food. Most of the time. But then there is the other times that usually kind of sneak into the conversation at one point. The MHK conversations: Marriage, husbands and kids.

”We had our wedding on a gorgeous farm in South Africa. It lasted 3 days. It was amazing. 100 of our closest friends and family flew in. Of course we had a wedding planner. With the baby and the 1,5 year old there was no way we could have arranged that by ourselves”.

No kidding? I can’t even arrange my wardrobe how the hell would I ever manage to mail out the invites to the engagement party? And then there is the other version: ”We arranged everything ourselves. We adore working together and it just felt right to plan everything from scratch. After all it’s my wedding”.

And yes, that sounds really romantic. But then I think about my relationship, which is fantastic in so many ways, but when it comes to team work; forget it! My boyfriend and I can’t even throw a bbq party for 20 people without getting into a huge fight, so how on earth would we ever plan a wedding?

Seriously. it’s stressful for me to be at these dinner parties. When I tag along in my life on a daily basis I feel I have so much to live for. I love my life. I adore my freedom and would hate to give it up for anything. But when I’m dining with the ladies sipping on my Coppola Sauvignon Blanc on the rocks and the MHK conversation comes around I make sure to stuff myself with an extra brownie because I feel both humbled and nervous by all this love that these women feel for their children. It’s grand. No doubt about it. And for some reason it makes me contemplate if I’m spending my life how I’m supposed to spend it? I feel childish, I feel like my urge to jump up and grab the bottle of vodka I spotted on the top shelf in the kitchen and turn up the music belongs to another decade. A chapter that’s over. Am I’m being so last season for wanting to stay in that era? Am I ready for the next step into the new decade where these beautiful ladies live? I’m really not sure….

Love is so hard. Why make things even more complicated with the whole marriage thing? Here in The US women in general are raving loonies when it comes to marriage. The Cinderella complex is huge over here and the concept of ‘Bridezilla’ was not invented for nothing. Think about the recent movies that circle around this topic: ”27 Dresses”, ”Bride Wars” not to mention Disney’s ”Cinderella”. Women are obsessed with getting a diamond and saying ‘us’ in stead of ‘I’. They are allergic to being alone and I don’t understand why. If you don’t want to be with yourself then how do you expect anybody else to want to be with you?

I know it sounds a little hard, but it’s my belief that you have to come to terms with your own demons and learn to – if not love them – then deal with them.

OK people, this was a little heavy on a Saturday morning. My head is spinning and I better stop now before I go out and check on the bottle of vodka we have in the kitchen.

Speak soon

xxx