Allow me to introduce myself—along with this new relationship column intended for couples with children.
I’m presently a married man with one ridiculously busy kid, one troublesome old house, and two very large, food-stealing cats. Was I just born lucky, you might ask? No! Like many a formerly-single person, I thought I’d skate by heroically in a child-free world with healthy joints, willing lovers, and minimal work, all of which would ultimately land me a job with some artistic license.
But then reality (my mid-30s) hit. I got a real job, a real house, and was skating on not-so-good joints. On top of that I had already broken my heart once and was working on breaking it a second time—which I did handily, I might add.
Yes, by the end of my 30s I had managed to put my second Long Term Relationship behind me. A short period of cardiac repair followed, and then I met ‘Edna’ and fell in love. Necessary for any hero’s journey, Edna had a test for me to pass: to stay with her, we had to have a child. Marriage didn’t matter. Baby mattered.
I hemmed for a few months, hawed for a few more, and all the while the nagging feeling that I was ‘missing something’ slowly grew. Plus, I wanted to be with Edna. This was the Long Term Relationship that was going to last.
“Sure, let’s have a kid,” I finally said. “It’ll be fun.”
I figured that at my advanced age (and having worn too-tight underwear for too long), it would be a while before we spawned any small fry. But the gods laugh at mortal plans, and we managed to conceive right out of the gate.
And that brings us to how this column was named—as well as to the reason for why I didn’t care to get married in the first place: politics.
Vote no
Let me explain. I grew up with a lot of gay friends, as well as friends whose parents were gay, and I drew my line in the sand concerning marriage. If my friends couldn’t get married then I wouldn’t either. For over two decades I used my stance as a way of talking about gay marriage to people who didn’t believe in it.
Then came health care…or rather, a lack of it. We had to get the very pregnant Edna (a psychotherapist with strong legs but weak insurance) on my much better plan and there was only one means to do it: get hitched. But I wasn’t going down without a fight. Or at least, not without making joke about it.
If Edna’s test for me was to agree to a baby, my test for marrying her sprang from the movie, Zorba the Greek. In the beginning of the film, Zorba is asked if he’s married. He answers, “Am I not a man, and is not a man stupid? I am a man, so I married. Wife, children, house—everything. The full catastrophe.”
Did basketball-belly Edna (here comes the test) think it was funny, or just one more example of how callous men can be? She thought it was funny! Ha! So I threw my civil rights stance out the window and popped the question. “Will you, Edna, be my lawfully partnered health insurance co-recipient?” She would!
We hustled down to the local Government Center to make it legal, and I magically discovered that my being married didn’t stop me from talking about why others in love and possibly health-insurance needy folks should be able to get married.
Shortly after came the birth of our son, ‘Oedipus’ (who I’ll call ‘Ed, Jr.’ in this column) and that’s when the real relationship fun started—and why I have so much to say on how to keep a child-centric relationship going.
Don’t get me wrong; I love my son. What I particularly don’t love is being ‘Not-Mom.’ You know, the high-strung second fiddle.
For more on that—and some takeaways that may help your family, too—tune in to next month’s installment, “The Third Wheel.”
Sean Toren loves living the full catastrophe in Minneapolis with his wife and son. He can be contacted at mnga@mnpubs.com with thoughts or suggestions.
