My Better Half

“I have this idea for a comic Nazi musical. It would be called ‘The Reich Stuff’ and would feature musical numbers such as ‘Goering, Goering, Gone’ and ‘The Brains and the Braun.’ I think it would be a hit on Broadway.”


“What if Zoe away switched at birth with another child but we only found out now, after we’ve gotten attached to her for this long. Would you want our biological child back instead, or would you keep her? And you can’t have both.”


Meanwhile in my head: I wonder if Zoe’s growing enough lately. She seems awfully skinny. I haven’t eaten enough lately. Interferes with my brain function. Can’t give Zoe all the nutrition she needs. I should eat more. And think less. Thinking always trips me up. Wait, if eating less means I think less, should I not eat more? No, stupid thought. Because I’m thinking. Can’t think. Just eat. I wonder if I’m growing enough emotionally…

Etc., etc., etc.

I used to think that my life would be simpler, easier, better if everyone were more like me. Oh lord, can you imagine? I am a loose cannon on the deck of a rolling ship.

No, thankfully my better half is nothing like my first half. Only a very special and unique mind could hatch such ingenious Broadway shows and hypothetical child switching scenarios. Apparently he came up with “A Jew Grows in Brooklyn” long before they actually made a play out of it.

And I don’t appreciate that enough. Because sometimes all I can muster is “um” with a blank stare or a “So pasta is okay for dinner then?”

I used to think that no one would ever have the guts to stick with me. I am a rogue wrecking ball in a city of skyscrapers.

imageBut here we are, one year after Oliver took that leap with me and I’ve got to be the luckiest little loose cannon this world has seen. This marriage has been the greatest gift and blessing I’ve known and I aim to spend the rest of my life cherishing it and nurturing it, more this year than last, more today than yesterday, more every subsequent hour and minute.

So thank you for sticking with me while I’ve been a complete nutcase. Thank you for continuing to share with me the beautiful idiosyncrasies of your mind even though I’ve been stupid and I’ve criticized and judged. Thank you for providing for me while I’ve been entitled and ungrateful. Thank you for not treating me like any less of a person for all of this. Thank you for teaching our daughter things I cannot, like a sense of humor and light-heartedness. Really, thank you for being you and for not being me.

Happy first anniversary, Oliver.

“What if 50% of pregnancies produced a legume as opposed to a child and there was no way to tell until after the birth? Would you still try to have kids? More importantly, would you eat the legume?”

Um. Well. Not really in the mood for pasta so much now…


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