You're So Lucky

Strangers like to tell me how lucky I am. They say it at events, out of earshot of anyone else, when they learn I am my husband’s wife. These strangers are always women, and are not strangers to my husband. They also often fawn over me, as if we’re besties, even though we just met. Even men insinuate my luckiness: one man told me to “take good care of him”.

What am I supposed to say in response? I default to “yes, I am lucky” and hope they drop it.

I’ve never understood their meaning. What makes me so lucky? Is it that I’m married to my husband, who they presumably think is just the best? Are they envious, secretly hoping he’ll be back on the market? Or is it simply that I have a husband, because being a single woman is the worst at this age (and perhaps a little also that my husband is not an asshole)? Or could some of them be hoping for gossip? How would they react if I told them his farts don’t smell like roses? It makes me uncomfortable.

No one tells my husband, or any man, that he’s so lucky. If anyone pays my husband a compliment about me it’s regarding my looks. But even still, he’s not lucky to have a pretty wife, since he's too attractive himself to have an unattractive wife. It’s expected. Of course she’s beautiful.

My husband hears how great he is in some capacity every day. His clients rave about his work, colleagues he mentors look up to him, his former boss has told him (indirectly, but still) he’s a better photographer, even the little kids we know talk about him to their parents. He makes an impression and there’s no one who doesn’t love him. But he rarely hears from me how great he is.

Instead, I keep the domestic sphere going to he can devote himself to his craft. I make sure the animals are cared for, supplies stocked, and entertain them (including bonding a new rabbit, which I said I’d never do again). Lately I’ve cooked dinner, ate alone, and cleaned up, making sure he has dinner waiting for him after a late shoot. The last two months I’ve spent a whole day off deep cleaning alone, and always during the week do the smaller tasks, like run the roomba and wash the sheets and towels.

Maybe it’s just because those are the expected tasks for a wife, even in whatever this day and age is (where quite a few people would love to have us go back to traditional gender roles). Maybe it’s because I work from home and can wash some dishes on a break or vacuum while listening to a meeting. Maybe it’s because I care more about a clean and well-kept home than my husband, so it makes sense that I spend more of my energies that way.

It’s a lonely life, though. But I don't think the people who tell me I’m so lucky would like to hear that. Shouldn’t a little loneliness be worth the sacrifice to be married to such greatness? Shouldn't I be eagerly awaiting his arrival at night, happy I'm the one he comes home to?

My husband doesn’t know people say this to me. All he knows is that everyone except his wife tells him he’s wonderful. I know it frustrates him because he says things loud enough for me to hear. Like how he knows not to expect support from me (said in reference to fantasy football, which I started doing to spend more time with him, but the wording was “in anything ever”). Or when I didn’t know what I wanted to eat and he muttered I never do (despite him also not having an answer). Or when I brought up that something (can’t even remember what) upset me and he said it’s always something.

I’ve thought what our relationship might be like if we shifted to traditional gender roles. We don’t have kids so it would never fly, plus we couldn’t afford to live here without my income. But if I wasn’t working full time of course I’d take complete care of the home. The grocery shopping, the cleaning, the cooking, the animals, arranging our social life and travel, all of it would be done without him lifting a finger, me being mad that the workload is unequally distributed, and might even mean I have more energy and desire for intimacy.

Or, more likely, our relationship would implode. If I already feel worth less despite all I contribute, how worthless would I feel if I contributed nothing financially? I’d need to be medicated, and then I’d really be a stereotype. On his end, he would be working more than ever to support two people and we likely wouldn’t see each other any more than we do now with opposite schedules.

If I wanted that life, I could have had it. My high school boyfriend’s plan was to be a lawyer, or some other super high paying career, where he would work long hours so I could have the luxury of staying home to raise our kids (in his plan, we’d have two). He said this to me in a sad, determined kind of way. This was his sacrifice.

I rejected that life immediately. Even then, when I assumed I’d have kids because it’s what you do after getting married, being a stay at home mom was not for me. Further, why would I go into a marriage knowing my husband was going to be working all the time and we’d rarely see each other? I wanted to get married because I loved my spouse and wanted to spend time with him. Marriage was never a means to an end for me. Yet he wasn’t the last boyfriend to pitch this life to me.

Of course, that life required having kids. When I got married—to someone who also didn’t want kids and valued an equal partnership—I was excited about creating a different kind of life. Having the flexibility to move around, live in other cities and countries. Travel where and when we want, not when school schedules dictate. Taking the fulfilling job even if it didn’t pay that well.

But so far we haven’t done this. Husband says someday, even soon. I have doubts. Looking back on our 11 years together there’s always been something: stress and unhappiness with jobs that underpaid and overworked, grad school, sick pets, planning and paying for a wedding, not working for 5 months and then taking every job possible in case the pandemic gets worse.

Work will always take priority for my husband. It took me a long time to realize that, longer than it should have. I’ll still be disappointed but I no longer expect him to block off time if there's even a chance he could book work. I can count on my birthday, his birthday, and our wedding anniversary. Even this year, for his 40th, he took the day of off but worked the following day.

It’s time for me to get used to the idea that I’ll need to do more things on my own. Which honestly should be my ideal, because I enjoy my alone time and enjoy traveling solo. If he can swing a day or two of a trip, like he did last year when I went to Seattle for a week, great. I married him because I love him and want to spend more time together, but I’m not doing our relationship any favors by waiting around for him to block off potential work time.

So, yeah, it’s been lonely. I have some loose plans for the next couple of years that involve short trips to see friends, focusing on my old and at-risk pets, and doing some volunteering and possibly freelancing to stay busy and earn extra income. I’m starting to form a longer-term plan, too, which is dependent on that extra income. Maybe having something to look forward to that’s all for me will help.

In the meantime, people should stop telling others how lucky they are. The grass is always greener, and I’m worried one of these times I’ll tell some unsuspecting woman the reality of living with greatness.

Guilt and Judgment

Most teens and young adults go through a period of feeling isolated, misunderstood, alone, or just plain different from everyone else. Some people don't grow out of this entirely. I might be one of those people, but I'm not sure why, exactly.

I don't always feel this way, but the isolating periods last a long time. Or maybe my baseline is a depression and I have long periods of happiness. Whichever it is, this depressive period started sometime last summer. I may have put too much stock in the vaccine ending the pandemic. I definitely put too much stock in the changing administration (I never thought we'd go back to being united, if we even ever were, but I did think something would change). It was this time in 2021 that we were double vaxxed and feeling good about spending time back in the world after a year of "apart together". In fact, it was exactly one year ago as I type that I had my first beer in a brewery since 2019.

Some uplifting words on the closed theatre marquis.

It's the loss of human kindness, I think, that did it for me this time. In early 2020 most people were all about beating the virus, doing our part, supporting the frontline and essential workers and small businesses. Then we got tired of our homes and all that pent up energy came out as anger and frustration. The pandemic was politicized immediately but we hadn't had a chance to see that in each other in person until the lockdowns ended. It was like everyone had a point to prove and were going to prove it as often as possible at all costs. I can scroll or swipe past something I don't like on social media but it's harder to avoid in person. Those interactions stayed with me a lot longer.

And a lot happened in the last year personally, too. I lost Gandalf (I was alone for that), then Ruth (I was alone for that, too), then Amelia, then Maya. Chloe was diagnosed with hyperthyroidism and, later, early kidney disease, though she's doing well with both. Instead of going wine tasting on my birthday I marched for reproductive rights (I mean, I still had wine, just not with friends at a winery). There's a 50% chance I had Covid. Even if it wasn't Covid, I still passed whatever illness I had on to medically fragile Ruthie, causing her death. A couple of weeks ago, I watched a man die in my alley after efforts to resuscitate him failed. All this in addition to social unrest, racist mass shootings, racist mass shootings of children, inflation, Russia starting a war, abortion rights ending in the US (at the same time as a baby formula shortage), renewed LGBTQ+ violence and discrimination, and a few particularly damning climate reports.

My birthday morning activity.

Clearly, I don't feel anxious or isolated or judged or different solely because of the pandemic. The sheer number of things I feel judged for or guilty about surprised me, as has how long I've felt this way. Some of these may be in my head, some of them are not. The very first thing I do most days is go on a run, which often is the only alone time I get. So by 8am the good part of my day is over with. Then the judgment starts:

Judged for needing caffeine every day. Husband does not need caffeine and will comment on how I drink tea all day (though all I do is refill the water with the same leaves, so the caffeine level is zero after a few cups) or need coffee on weekends. It got me in trouble once when we had planned to get fancy coffees at a shop before going somewhere, but ran out of time and I was worried about getting a headache if I didn't have something. Now I make sure I have caffeine before I leave the house or go alone to a shop.

I was very happy when reusable cups came back!

Judged and guilty for going to coffee shops. In addition to my need for caffeine, coffee shops are expensive. It's like the number one thing the boomers tell the millennials to skip if we want to afford things like housing and healthcare (or is it avocado toast now?). And it is expensive: after non-dairy milk and tip (I'm still tipping like it's 2020) I spend up to $7 for a mocha. I bought a grinder and pitcher and learned to make cold brew, but I love the experience of going to a shop and sometimes justify it by using their wifi for a couple of hours. I felt extra guilty going to coffee shops in 2020 and 2021 when reusable cups weren't allowed. So in addition to feeling guilty spending $7 for a coffee I also felt guilty for getting a disposable cup I didn't need. But somehow also guilty for not supporting my local coffee shops more often. Guilty no matter what I do.

Judged for eating three meals a day during the week. Though I don't often feel judged for what I eat or how much I eat, husband doesn't eat much more than a small bowl of cereal during the day (except when he gets lunch out after doing the grocery shopping) and it sometimes makes me feel I shouldn't need as much food. If I were more active I probably wouldn't need to eat, but I've never been able to sit at a desk and not think about food. However, the guilt and judgment comes from the extra dishes more than the food itself. I complain about dishes being left in the sink for extended periods of time, which makes me feel I must clean everything the moment I'm done using it. When I'm the only one eating during the week I'm the only one dirtying dishes, so I must maintain a perfectly clean kitchen or hear about how I don't follow my own rules. You can't complain about something and then do that thing yourself without being a hypocrite. Also, the only reason I don't feel judged for my eating habits outside my home is because I'm relatively thin and athletic, which makes me feel guilty: if I had different genetics and ate like I do I wouldn't be as thin.

The thing that makes me happiest.

Judged for my recommendations at work. I try (and sometimes fail) to choose my words extremely carefully and back up every suggestion and recommendation with outside sources and data as insurance against pushback. I fear that every word I say or type is scrutinized. I'm a relatively low level employee trying to make recommendations above my pay grade since there's literally no one else to do it for my field. I have a strong impression that, while I'm liked my most of my coworkers, my direct superiors think I need to stay in my place. Plus, I'm a full-time remote employee and didn't fly out a few weeks ago when most of the team got together informally (I didn't want to risk Covid to sit in an office), so I didn't get the chance to be charming and personable (as much as I can be, which isn't much) to my superiors.

Judged and guilty for showing affection to my pets because I don't show the same level of affection to husband. I'm not a kissy person or a huggy person or one to show physical affection very often. In a lot of ways (romantic and otherwise) I'm not an initiator. This is understandably very frustrating to someone whose love language is physical touch. But I am this way with animals. I will do the baby voice and tell my girls how pretty and smart they are and force kisses on their bellies and foreheads and go out of my way to give them anything they want, whenever they want it. I thought a lot about why this is and I think it's because animals are the only ones that don't judge me. They're always happy and excited to see me, even if only because I'm about to feed them. There's not a human on this earth that's always happy or excited to see me. I also feel guilty when I don't spend as much time with my pets. The rats need free roam time every day but, since they're rats, it has to be in a contained area. So I lock myself with them in the bathroom which is admittedly not the most fun way to spend time with them. I can't multitask very well like that, so it's an hour of not spending time with husband, not doing other household tasks, and not working, and I feel guilt for all of the things I'm not doing and judged for choosing the rats.

My old girls, Amelia, Maya, and Ruth, who passed within months of each other.

Judged for buying, keeping, and caring for houseplants. I admit I have quite a lot and it's probably annoying that they're all in one part of the apartment (only one halfway decent window). A couple I rescued from a trash pile in the alley, a few were gifts, I've propagated several, three were wedding leftovers, and the rest were purchased very cheaply at grocery stores or second hand. I even obtained most of the pots cheaply: terra cotta pots that I painted myself (which allows me to be creative, something I lack in my life), gifts, or repurposed items. If I could spread them around the apartment without killing them they might not be so noticeable. It's probably because houseplants became the trend after breadmaking in 2020. I always liked plants but now when you can buy them at coffee shops and gift shops and grocery stores and the corner shop it's easier and more affordable to have some greenery around. Plus, plants are proven to improve moods and it's something to care for and pay attention to outside of the rest of the world.

Judged and guilty for wanting things that don't fit into husband's lifestyle. Before I got into grad school I planned to move to a new city. I got in and had to commit to where I was for three years. After I graduated we immediately got engaged, so moving didn't make sense. Then Argo got sick. Then we got married. Then there was a pandemic. Now we can't afford to move because husband's work connections are here and I don't make enough to support us long term, and I'm worried we can't afford to stay here because housing prices have skyrocketed. During the pandemic I decided that if we are going to stay here forever I'd like to buy a place, but husband wasn't ready in the brief window I could afford it. Now condos are $200k+ more and if we ever want a second bathroom or in-unit laundry or a dishwasher we'll be paying at least $1,500 extra rent each month and buying will be an even more distant dream.

Judged for wearing a mask indoors, guilty and afraid when I don't. Everyone is over masks and the pandemic in general, even though cases are rising again. I avoid eye contact when I wear a mask just so I won't see if anyone looks at me with judgment. I skip it sometimes if I'm in and out in under two minutes, like grabbing takeout, but whenever I'm inside without a mask I get this queasy feeling in my stomach. I'm so fortunate to live in an area where so much is outside that it's really felt like the good parts of the old normal are back and I'm not sacrificing, but every now and then an invitation will come along and I'll have to assess whether it's worth the risk. The big thing is going to movies: it's husband's favorite thing to do but now that no one is wearing a mask it's less fun for me. Only going when it's a really important movie that won't be streaming isn't the compromise he wanted.

Hospital staff didn't trust my cloth mask so they gave me a fresh disposable one, even though I never even went inside.

Guilty for not making enough money. I used to make more than husband but he outpaced me last year. Yet he's more content to stay at the level we're currently at and have more day to day luxuries than I am. He's less interested in upgrading our housing, which makes me feel that if I want it I need to figure out how to get it. I also don't want to say no to the little things that make us happy, like take out and brewery visits, so I feel guilty saying yes and spending the money when I know it's not contributing to my long term goals. Plus, I have very expensive pets. Old animals require so much more medical care and rats are not cheap. I'm trying to mitigate this with a separate savings account so their expenses don't come from my regular checking or savings.

Judged by my family for my appearance. I don't see either of my parents so there isn't as much judgment anymore, but I still fret over what clothes I'll wear, if I'll do my hair, of how much makeup to wear. During the pandemic, makeup became a special occasion look. I only wear it now when seeing people I don't see often or doing things I don't do often. I have trouble deciding if family should fall into the "people I'm comfortable with" category or "people I don't see often" category, since both are accurate. Last time I didn't do either hair or makeup and it was fine, so maybe this is a worry I can somewhat put to rest.

I've been told I don't find joy, which I don't think is true (see: photos). So many of the things I'm judged for bring me joy by myself: my pets, coffee, plants, food, having goals and dreams. But I don't exist alone. I'm great at projecting a fuck off attitude towards strangers and acquaintances, but when I feel judgment from the people closest to me or the ones I interact with the most, I want to escape into the woods where I know no one.

A Love Letter to Nachos

Dear nachos,

There are few things in life that bring me as much joy as food. Food is nourishing, food supports my lifestyle and activities, food energizes my body and mind.

 

But not all food is nachos. And not all nachos are my nachos. Nachos are pure joy in food form. Sure, my nachos are piled high with sliced tomatoes, black olives, bell peppers, jalapeño, cilantro, and avocado, all of which are quite nourishing and healthy. My nachos also use home-cooked black beans and soy chorizo (same taste, less grease, no pigs). Even the cheese has nutritional value. In fact, the only unhealthy aspect of nachos are the chips.

Multicolor tomatoes, red bell pepper, green jalapeño, and black olives make nachos sort of nutritious.

Chips, and the genuine mountain of nachos. The absurd quantity is definitely not healthy. My nachos begin on a cookie sheet lined with foil, chips spread from end to end, and everything else layered on top. Nachos bring me more joy than the sum of its parts. Nourishment is not why every other Wednesday is nacho night.

I fully understand and appreciate (and, if I’m honest, pity) that many people have strained relationships with food. Many must see food as nutrition only, certainly not as a reward. Others are uninterested in food, seeing it only as a way to keep their bodies going. One person even told me that eating is a waste of time and it’s too bad that bodies need food. Far too many people are unskilled at making food and depend on re-heating and take-out. Some go so far as to forget to eat when they are busy or stressed. For a year and a half, I lived with someone who had such a difficult relationship with food that she ate the absolute bare minimum required to stay alive and not a molecule more.

Nacho mountain!

But to me, food is love. Eating food I love is self care. Making food is how I show love for others. One of my greatest joys is cooking and baking for others. Yes, I relish the enthusiastic praise for my food gifts, but I equally love gifting food when I don’t have the opportunity for praise. It’s a gesture of appreciation and community.

 

Food is also how I accept love from others. I have frequently told my husband that it’s his job to feed me (a task he takes seriously to ward off my hanger). I long for a dishwasher and don’t love the task of cleaning up after meals, but sitting down to a home-cooked meal he prepared makes me feel loved. Same when he buys take-out, double when he treats me to a coffee or brings home cookies from our favorite bakery. Similarly, there’s a reason we don’t get sushi take-out. Sitting at the table with friends, sharing drinks and appetizers, and swapping pieces of our rolls brings us closer together. Eating together is an act of love.

Cooking and baking are my creative outlets. I sprinkle massive flakes of finishing salt on my chocolate chip cookies to enhance the flavor of the chocolate and make them fancier. I enjoy trying new cake recipes in search of the one perfect cake, practicing my frosting skills, and experimenting with recipes to make them my own. My nachos are art. We call layering the rainbow of veggies over the baked tray "decorating". Because it is. They are as pretty to look at as they are delicious to eat. Well, almost.

"Decorated" nachos piled with avocado, cilantro, and all the other veggies.

My nachos are why I can’t order nachos anywhere else. I’m a nacho purist. Some might say I’m a snob. My food opinions are strong and unyielding, especially when it comes to something I’ve perfected. The best compliment I’ve ever received was that my food opinions are to be trusted. My nacho opinions are:

• Cheese sauce does not belong on nachos (the only cheese we use is pepper jack)
• Jalapeños should be fresh, not pickled
• Chip structure and integrity is everything (we have a Costco membership almost exclusively for the toddler-sized double-bag of tortilla chips)
• Nachos are not a vessel for hot sauce  (hot sauce it up, but don't drown them... oddly, we use sriracha)

Yet nachos are infinitely customizable. Sometimes we add sour cream. People can put meat on their nachos. Nachos can pay homage to other cultures and accommodate dietary restrictions. They're naturally gluten free! The advances in meltable vegan cheese means they can even be vegan now!

Cheesy baked nachos with black beans and soy chorizo.

I’ve written about nachos for a college paper, preached my nacho opinions to anyone who will listen (or at least humor me), invited friends to share in nacho night, and moved nacho night when other obligations have meant we would not be able to fully enjoy the experience. On nacho night I lovingly craft each chip with each ingredient for the perfect bite. I hope my last meal is nachos.

When the rest of the world has gone to utter shit, nachos are the bright light that make me forget, for an hour, that there are so many things I can't control or influence, so many wrongs I can't right, so many mistakes I've made. For that hour everything is OK because I have my nachos.

Sometimes we add sour cream to nachos if we have it.

Nachos, you are perfect and I love you.

My Postmodern Family

The nuclear family never appealed to me. Even when I was a kid, turning into a teen, imagining my adult future, the mom and dad and two kid household wasn't something I dreamed of. For a long time I assumed I'd get married and have kids, because that's just what you do. The message about choice I got as a young woman in a conservative town was after getting married and having kids: to work or not to work. Presumably I'd go to college (something my parents never actively encouraged) and work for at least a little while, then also presumably I'd leave the workforce for at least a little while to raise my kids. Only then did my ability to choose my future begin: I could choose to be a stay at home mom, like mine was, or I could choose to return to my chosen field.

Our family: Chloe at the center.

My first two boyfriends were insistent that I be a stay at home mom. It's better for the kids, after all, if a parent raises them, and naturally women are better caretakers than men so it just makes sense for the mom to stay home. Sure, they would have to work long hours to make that happen but it'd be so worth it, you know? Me, home with a couple little screaming poop machines all day long, rarely seeing my husband, being a nice, dutiful little housewife.

I noped out of that even then, to my boyfriends' frustrations. While they romanticized traditional gender roles, also having grown up in a conservative town (interestingly, one had the very traditional nuclear family and one did not, yet they both idealized it), I feared it. Maybe I'd have kids but I would not under any circumstances leave work for longer than necessary. I told one of them that if they wanted a stay at home parent household they were welcome to stay home. He laughed. The man raising the children was that ridiculous.

It was in between those two boyfriends that I first realized that the choice I had wasn't to work or not after kids, but whether to have kids at all. Or even whether to get married. It just never occurred to me, and was certainly never presented as a choice. We say "when you have kids", not "if you have kids," like a person's future children are inevitable.

This is frustrating and needs to change, but what's bothering me now is the prevalence of the traditional family at work. And somehow both the parents and the non-parents feel slighted.

People can understand cats and dogs as "part of the family" but anything else isn't as acceptable.

First, the parents. The pandemic has revealed just how hard it is to be a parent in America. Back in the 1940s when the term "nuclear family" first appeared, women had only just entered the workforce. Working women were supposed to be temporary, just to support the economy during WWII when so many men were absent. But some of them liked working. A lot, actually. And for a bit the economy still needed the labor of women so they were allowed to continue earning an income. Women never really went back home. Not fully. Though I'd be willing to bet (I didn't research this) that a lot of women worked part time for a few decades. After all, the household chores and childrearing still needed to happen, and our war hero men were certainly not going to do it. This mentality is, sadly, still prevalent today, as is the myth that women are better caretakers (hopefully my previous boyfriends have unlearned this) and are better suited to raising children in the home.

By the time women entered the workforce in large numbers, the 40-hour work-week was standard. It was even law! An eight hour day resulted in more productive workers, more workers for round-the-clock schedules, maximum productivity, and low unemployment. But the 40-hour work-week wasn't designed because it benefitted the worker, it was designed because it benefitted the employer. If you run a 24-hour operation and had two sets of employees working 12-hour shifts, they'd burn out between the 8 and 10 hour mark, and you'd be paying for the other 2-4 hours but not getting the same level of production. But if you hired three sets of employees working 8-hour shifts, you're still paying for 24 hours of labor but getting so much more out of those workers. It was just math. Employers didn't care who was taking care of the dishes or the kids, they just wanted production. I'm not sure where the "8 hours for labor, 8 hours for sleep, and 8 hours for leisure" saying came from, since your (unpaid) lunch break, commute time, overtime, and prep comes from either leisure or sleep.

The pandemic opened a lot of eyes to the unsustainable nature of our current labor setup. I won't go into the hardships that parents have had these last two years except to summarize that parents lost their external support but still had to keep up their jobs. In a global pandemic and period of increased anxiety and tension. No wonder so many people left their jobs.

The ones that stayed feel at a disadvantage to non-parents. Us non-parents can veg on the couch or sleep more or take additional risks for old pleasures like vacations and eating at restaurants because we don't have little unvaccinated creatures with still-growing immune systems to worry about. We can sleep through the night, probably. We don't have to juggle virtual classes and mommy can you open this and sibling fights and where did your pants go get out I'm on camera and can I go play outside while working at the same level as before the pandemic. It's fully justified, I don't know how parents have any sanity (I mean, I wonder that in general but the last two years have validated my childfree-ness in a way I never thought possible).

Most people have a hard time understanding rats as pets.

But now, the non-parents, who also feel slighted. The struggles of parents are so obvious. Parents are shouting about them, bringing up their pain at every opportunity because if they don't they will burst. Some might legitimately explode. Before, comedians made jokes about stay at home moms (something something it can't be that hard of a job if you can do it in your pajamas) but no one is making those jokes now. Even for women who aren't also working. 

But we're about to start our third year of the pandemic and pretty much everyone is over it. We're tired of masks, tired of restrictions, tired of being judged for going out, tired of being judged for staying in, tired of hearing about how tired everyone is. So the plan is currently to pretend it's over. We never stopped working at full capacity, we just had to do it from our kitchen tables or couches or bedroom dresser or laundry machine (or you were a teacher or healthcare worker or "essential worker" and had to risk your health every single day). It's too much to start a third year of acute awareness of these very obvious problems, so we're just going to sweep our problems under the rug.

And non-parents, who have been keeping up when our parent colleagues had sick kids or zoom lessons or needed a mental health day (for those who are lucky enough to have compassionate employers), our struggles are not as obvious. We've been too afraid to voice them because we know we don't have it as bad as the parents and we don't want to look like ungrateful assholes for saying we're also tired and burned out. However, in this soon to be third year of the pandemic, our struggles haven't gone away, either. We've picked up the slack and kept our mouths shut, and any time parents are given the understanding and compassion that they fully deserve we wonder if our efforts will ever be recognized. 

Maybe it wouldn't have been important to recognize our efforts if the pandemic was over in a year. We were so ready to pitch in and help because of the blindingly obvious horrors of being a pandemic parent, but we are burned out. We are exhausted. We are over it. And we're feeling slighted.

My kids.

When both parents and non-parents are feeling like our employers give preferential treatment to the other group, the problem is with employers. Parents should be given the additional understanding and compassion, but when non-parents are working extra hard they should also be rewarded. Or at least acknowledged. Where I'm working, we're still operating under the pandemic structure for performance evaluations, which makes it extremely difficult to get any sort of raise or promotion. But how long are we going to operate like this? How long will "due to the pandemic" be the excuse for leadership to continue not recognizing effort?

It's also making me realize how atypical my family is. Along with saying "when you have kids", we also say "start a family" when we're trying to have a kid. When we say family we really mean nuclear family: one mom, one dad, and at least one biological kid. Americans are starting to be more accepting of same sex families, blended families, extended families, mixed-race families, and other non-traditional family structures. But they all have kids. "Family" still means a parent figure and at least one child. It does not mean, for most, husband and wife. Which is a pretty significant bummer when I think about it.

I started my family almost 9 years ago when husband and I moved in together. I considered us a sort of blended family: him and his dog, me and my cat, then we got our bunnies. Our family became more official when we got married. But since we're never having children, some people will never see us as a family. I've been thinking of my family more lately. All my babies have four legs and hair all over. They are all old, and we've already lost some. When Argo's cancer diagnosis was terminal, I told husband that this would be the most difficult thing we ever go through together. And it was. It will be more difficult than losing parents, friends, siblings, and any future pets. Last year our old bun Gandalf died suddenly, as did one of our rats. One rat is not doing well at all and Chloe has gotten a couple of worrying diagnoses recently. We know our time with all of them is very limited.

I feel like I shouldn't talk about this, especially not at work. Most of my colleagues who have pets also have children, and once you have biological children you don't see your pets as your babies anymore. And only one other person on my larger team has more pets than I do. My direct supervisor has neither pets nor kids (nor partner) and kind of doesn't understand them. (Side note: He mentioned wanting to get a cat but is "kind of worried about taking care of it that much". He also shared with me that a friend can't go on vacations or go out anymore because their dog is old and, having been in that situation, I wanted to yell at him... Also, this was mid-pandemic so vacationing and going out shouldn't really be the fun metric you judge your friends by, but things have returned to normal for him.) I do my best to schedule vet appointments and other life necessities for late in the afternoon when he won't notice I'm not online because I feel... atypical. Not understood. My family isn't taken seriously. I even recently got the "you're next for maternity leave" half joke for the first time in a really long time.

We take family portraits at the holidays just like other families.

It's not just having pets instead of kids. Sometimes I forget that even though we're in a traditional heterosexual marriage, being interracial still has implications. Even in our very liberal little neighborhood (in a purple-ish city in a blue state). We live a pretty white life. I don't notice, and sometimes choose to ignore, looks in public. When we do step into Black spaces I feel welcome but a little like I'm intruding. There are online meet up groups for Black people (runners, artists, etc.) and for women, but what about mixed race couples? If husband wanted to join a Black runners group, for example, I wouldn't feel comfortable joining even if I was welcomed, just like he wouldn't join a women's running group.

So between my interracial marriage and my childfree-ness, I've been noticing how different my family is. I had to Google what the opposite of nuclear family is and "postmodern" was my answer. It includes childless couples, unmarried parents, extended and blended families, and anyone who considered themselves part of a family, regardless of blood or marriage. I guess if my availability and effort as a non-parent is going to be taken for granted, it might be nice to have the family I do have recognized.

Marriage Inequalities

San Diego skyline view from a whale watching tour during our staycation!

Husband and I recently celebrated our second wedding anniversary with a full week off of work. We somewhat strategically selected a wedding date that would guarantee a day off work for a couple of years (and since we got married on a Friday we had three days post-wedding before we had to respond to professional responsibilities). Also somewhat surprisingly, in all the time we had been together we had never had a staycation. We chose to do that this year for our anniversary because of covid (even spending one night out would have been highly expensive and not necessarily been enjoyable with all my pandemic anxiety) and because I'm very hesitant to leave the cat right now (my lady is at least 16 and going through old lady medical issues).

What I'm perhaps most surprised by is how much I loved our staycation. From Sunday to Sunday, we visited the Safari Park (where we met), the zoo (where we formed our friendship and cemented our relationship), had many of our favorite foods, had a movie-marathon day, went whale watching (which had been on our list for many years - and ended up seeing dozens of whales, dolphins, and sea lions), and had beers with friends. We decided we'll take a full week off every year from now on, and if traveling somewhere isn't feasible for whatever reason a staycation will be just as fun.

Drinks overlooking where we (kind of) met.

Husband mentioned a few times the last two years how he's treated now that he's married, and each time it took me off guard. I didn't really realize why until the last week or so. Being a man, husband is given some additional respect when he mentions being married or having a wife. Apparently, people see men who are married as more responsible. As opposed to having "just" a girlfriend, having a wife means a man is stable, that someone (a woman) has decided that he is worth marrying, and that he is worth giving responsibility, priority, and money to.

This has not been my experience. I haven't changed jobs since getting engaged or getting married, and I admit that saying "husband" gives me an air of adultness that "boyfriend" didn't (especially when among other married people). However, I have been interviewing. And I have been very careful to not mention being married. While men are free to admit to having a wife, a woman having a husband has implications that makes me, at least, hesitant to admit the situation to strangers who might otherwise give me money.

So while a man being married implies he is responsible, stable, and has long term goals that align with an employer's long term goals, a woman being married implies she is more likely to leave a job, get pregnant, and cost a company more than she is bringing in. It's illegal to not hire someone because of their marital status, pregnancy status, familiar status, etc., but it's very easy to simply not move forward with the interview process if a woman mentions anything about her husband or children or family.

Small anecdotal example: I recently interviewed for a digital marketing generalist position with a very well known company based in San Diego. The recruiter asked if I had experience in videography (which was not listed in the job description). Rather than saying "no, but my husband does and I could learn from him" or "no, but my husband does and he could be a consultant", I simply said no. I don't, after all, and they weren't interviewing my husband, they were interviewing me. The fault clearly lies with the interviewer for asking about something not listed in the job description (if you need a digital marketer with video experience you need to say so - but those are two very different jobs so good luck finding a digital marketing generalist who is also experienced in video for the salary they were willing to pay). But it surprised me that I had such a low hanging fruit right there - a person I live with who could easily help with this skill and yet I was so hesitant to admit to having that resource.

Meanwhile, my husband has relayed multiple positive reactions to him being married. Part of it is due to him appearing a LOT younger than he is. His clients are sometimes surprised that he's even old enough to be married (which just irks me to no end... dude's almost 40 and people still think he looks barely old enough to drink). But part of it is a validation that, despite his youthful appearance, he is clearly responsible enough for a woman to commit to and has to return that responsibility to her, AND he probably is as skilled as he says he is, and that his prices imply.

I also have been struggling to get the professional recognition I feel I deserve for the work I've put in the last few years, which may have nothing to do with being married. But it is difficult to feel like I'm spinning my wheels while my husband has been enjoying professional success that's at least partly related to being married, especially when he remarks to me later on how great it is being married because of how he is treated by clients and potential clients. Just... not the same for me, and I'd be willing to bet not for most women of childbearing age. 

And what am I supposed to do, mention my sterilization in my interviews and let them know I won't be leaving to bear children? That's fucked both because it's not any of their business and it puts women who do plan to become parents at a significant disadvantage.

This came up before we got married, too. When we were engaged I asked him why it was important that we get legally married, and he brought up several points. At the top were legal validation and social validation. Turns out that second one was more for him than for me. But we did experience the importance of the first one while we were engaged. My sister had a baby a few months before our wedding and we were at the hospital for the birth. The receptionist didn't question my presence but her look at my fiance was... telling. "And your relation to the patient?" she asked him. I let her know he was my fiance and she relaxed and provided him the wristband that would get him into the room.

I guess being legally married is extra important in mixed-race relationships. Just wish the gender inequities weren't so pronounced in marriage.