Tag Archives: Marriage

A Million Dollar Marriage: Apparently, Not for Everyone


A little while back we had some fun with friends reading from one of those silly books about things a person would do for a million dollars.  First of all, it was eye-opening (to the point of appalling) how different the male responses were from the females.  Gain 100 pounds for a million dollars?  In a heartbeat, said the guys.  Whaaaat?  From the low-to-middle-aged (and fighting it every step of the way) group of women (all moms, I might add), a resounding:  Never.

Secondly, it was interesting how vastly conflicting my answers were from my husband’s.  “BUT IT’S A MILLION DOLLARS!” he cried, clearly seeing his dreams of a state-of-the-art-man-cave fade into dust.  “YOU COULD HIRE A TRAINER AFTERWARDS!”  I simply shook my head.  Nope; not interested.  But it continued.

Send a naked picture of yourself to everyone you know?  (Again, no shocker: most men would do this for far less money.)  Chop off a finger?  Live in a room full of mosquitoes without any repellant for 24 hours?  Never again cut your toenails?  Apparently there are few body parts my husband wouldn’t maim for the money.  I, on the other hand, held firm: nope, nope, nope.  I’m certain I saw real tears escape his eyes.

It’s not that I don’t want to bask in the decadence of buying Jimmy Choos with cash, or venturing out of Target for a new shirt, or spending carelessly, without any worries (“Come on kids, whaddya say we get you those braces AND splurge on new eyeglasses?”) but I imagine it comes down to being truly content.  I guess I am.

Sure there are things I want (shamefully, I might consider trading one of my children for an unbelievable pair of leather boots) but most of my wants aren’t very material things.  I don’t want a maid to do the laundry but – come on — who wouldn’t want someone to come in and simply put it away?  I don’t care about the newest gadgets or latest technology but I’d sure be happy with an electronic buzzer that zapped a kid’s ankle every time a towel is dropped on the floor.  I don’t even think a gourmet chef preparing my meals would be all that helpful to me – I’d be quietly thrilled if my own cooked meals were eaten without fuss or commotion.  Imagine that.

It’s a good thing my husband and I are a good match.  He keeps playing the lottery and I keep clipping coupons.  He dreams big and I find subtle elation in a great haircut or a pair of jeans feeling a wee bit looser than the previous month.  And in the spirit of a happy marriage, every once in a while we meet in the middle.  Rather, I cave just a little:  I did agree that yes, for a million dollars I would sleep in the Amityville Horror house for a week.  With wine.  But that’s it.

Tina Drakakis blogs at Eyerollingmom and was featured in the 2014 Boston production of “Listen to Your Mother: Giving Motherhood a Microphone.” Her work has been featured in NPR’s “This I Believe” radio series yet she places “Most Popular 1984” on top of her list of achievements.  (Next would be the home improvement reality TV show of 2003 but her kids won’t let her talk about that anymore).   A witty mother of four, she takes on cyberspace as @Eyerollingmom on Twitter and Eyerollingmom on Facebook. and@Eyerollingmom on Instagram.

All Hail the King


My local friends witness my frenetic lifestyle firsthand, specifically, that my husband’s consulting job takes him out of state for three weeks each month.  With the exception of weekends when he’s home, I have become adept at managing our homestead — and the people in it —  in his absence.

Given the fact my youngest is eleven and can (kinda sorta) wipe his own behind, this is not an absurdly impossible feat.  At least most of the time.

Nine parent teacher conferences in one night?  No sweat.

Sports practices every evening?  Got it.

Haircuts, homework, doctors, dentists and an occasional nightly meal?  Supermom, present.

I’ll even see you volunteering as a CCD teacher and raise you lunch money to boot. No problem.

So it was with mild amusement (and perhaps teeny hidden contempt) that I would listen to my darling spouse talk over the phone lines about all his free time.  With nobody to worry about but himself for 4-5 days, he was eating healthier, running more, keeping his recent weight-loss off.  All good.  Excellent, actually.

That’s great sweetie, I’d coo, before washing down the last of my Pop tart (dinner) with some Pinot (dessert).


Now, let’s be real here.  I have rolled my eyes at this unbalanced lifestyle before — even (shockingly) written about it -– but I really do keep the matter light.  As difficult as my days and night seem at times, I know his life out of a suitcase isn’t always fine wines and turn down service.  (Rather, it better not be.  Enter psycho wife if that ever surfaced…)

He works extremely hard and spends countless hours waiting in airports, missing important family occasions and playing catch-up on the days he’s finally home.  It’s not easy, I will admit.

So imagine my surprise when my Traveling Wilbury arrived home one weekend and declared that our queen-size mattress was unacceptable and most intolerable and immediately had to be replaced with a king.  Apparently after months of sleeping in hotels, he had stumbled onto the Holy Grail of wellness:  in addition to healing his aching back, ailing knee and other middle-aged irritations, a bigger mattress would surely help him sleep better because well, he sleeps just great while away.

Diva Dad had spoken.  I believe my Facebook status for that day read, “Sorry about Christmas, kids.  Take all complaints to the big guy…”

Despite the fact we are not fancy people (point made by the bulky 19-inch television relic that’s still kicking in our bedroom), I shrugged and said sure.  The practical side of me could list a slew of reasons why it made sense and the frugal side of me had a slew of coupons to rely on when it came time to pick out bedding.

So after nearly a quarter of a century inhaling each other’s less-than amorous sleep aromas … we have upgraded to an additional sixteen inches of slumbered bliss.

My husband & I will celebrate our 22ndwedding anniversary in a few months.  Sometimes we do things really, really badly.

Like the happy-hour-induced-hole in the sheetrock in my college apartment?  Probably not our finest moment.

Or the humiliating $500 pyramid scheme bandwagon we jumped into in 1992?  Seriously….. what dummies.

Even the two interstate moves in ten months (four kids in tow) for an oops career move?  (Hindsight, that actually turned out pretty damn good in the long run but truth:  who does that???)

But every once in a while we get something right.

The king-sized mattress is one of these times.  Raising children in an environment where the Family Bed has been frowned upon?   Definitely another one.

The best part:  I’m only sharing it a portion of the time.


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