mother from another planet

I seriously believe that sometimes I am from another planet. It is a really great planet where husbands and wives are actually friends and enjoy spending time with one another. It is a planet where a husband/father sees housekeeping as partly his responsibility, not just the female unit. A planet where childrearing and decisions regarding the little people units are discussed between both parents until mutually agreed upon. It is a planet where the mom and dad do without all their little “extra toys” and focus their money on what is best suited for the entire family unit. It is a planet where “family game night” and “family movie night” exist. It is a planet where the husband and wife actually want to be alone with each other (read: love having sex and love talking about how great the sex is between them). It is a planet where the mother unit could not care less about things like what type of clothes she wears and is grateful her “I had two enormous babies so step off” ass is able to even fit in pants. The mother unit is always happy to help out at the children’s school, but isn’t interested in the petty politics of the parent organization. The mother unit from this planet loves to be with her children, but has never cried when school began. This alien mother is happy and content to spend her nights (and some days) in her p.j.’s enjoying the quiet of the house.

The truth is that I find that I don’t fit in with my so-called circle of friends. Yes, my kids can get on my nerves---hey, I am human people! Yes, my husband does have some odd behavior quirks that make me dream of putting a steak knife in his neck, but I ultimately love him. In fact, he is my best friend. I don’t say this in a “gee, we have so much in common, we are so connected on an inner-personal level.” I mean Dan is my best friend. I can literally say anything to him without any fear of retribution or score keeping. He is always willing to listen to me endlessly go on and on about how what I fed the kids for lunch or how disgusting the fish bowl was when I cleaned it, or how I found a great way to remove all the soap scum off our shower walls, how hard I worked getting the sink in the basement clean, etc. The fact that this man hasn’t blown his brains out is a fucking miracle, especially since the sound of my own voice makes me want to do this.

One of the best parts about Dan is that there is no game playing. When he says, we are friends, he really means it. He never puts his friends to the test, he is not judgmental (even when they are really fucking things up for themselves). He is supportive and kindhearted. He is able to listen without trying to always fix my problems (for the most part, come on now, this is a MAN we are talking about). I am really lucky to be married to a great guy and true friend (who is great in the sack, too, from what I remember, after all we are in a holding pattern until he completes his “healing process”). I have never had such a true and solid friend until I met Dan.

I don’t know if I have so much trouble with women because I am from another planet. I seem to be the “odd man out” in my friendship circle. I operate like most women: suppress your anger, be petty and gossipy, never confront a problem with another woman directly, lie about your hurt feelings, and hide. And yet, these things about me and other women are making me loathe the female species. Every day I feel as if I have just touched down on this planet and somewhere between the drop off and the pick up from school I develop a sudden urge to leave this planet and return home.