My name is Jessie. I am a mom, aspiring writer, and prodigal yogi. After a decade in Philadelphia, I recently moved to the South Shore of Massachusetts. But I am a Jersey Girl at heart.
These are my two daughters, Emma and Phoebe. Being a mother is simultaneously thrilling and terrifying. Everyday without fail, two thoughts cross my mind: “Oh my God, thank you” and “Oh my God, help me.”
This is my husband Phil. When I first met him at a Villanova Alumni event in Stone Harbor, I was drawn to him like a kid to a clown making balloon animals. There was a certain kind of magic about him -a Pied Piper type quality – and after about five Heinekens I finally mustered up the courage to
stalk approach him. We talked all night, and I gave him my number on the back of crumpled up shopping list that consisted of “goat cheese, Sweet & Low, tampons.”
We’ve been married 9 years and together for 12. If Oprah were to ever ask me “what I know for sure,” I would say: “Marriage is a lot of f*%#ing work.” I do believe that marriage is an opportunity to finally grow up and become the best version of yourself. Unfortunately, that means facing the worst parts of yourself. Like the part of yourself that throws a cordless phone at the dining room wall that you later have to spackle and re-paint. Because it’s your house and you are supposed to be in charge of this whole operation.
“No cigarettes, no bologna,” is a quote from my sassy South Philly born mother-in-law that I feel captures that special kind of crazy that only your spouse can trigger. Early in their marriage, my in-laws pulled up to a neighborhood bodega in Philly, and my father-in-law ran in for bologna and cigarettes. In silent protest to his wife’s smoking habit, he returned with just the bologna. As they drove away, my mother-in-law tossed the bologna out the window, declaring: “No cigarettes, no bologna!”
For me, that just sums up the unique challenge that is marriage. Because only your husband could make you do that, and only your husband would still say “so what do you want to do for dinner?” five minutes after you hurled lunch meat out of a moving vehicle.
My world as a stay at home centers around my kids, and I am sure they will be regular subjects of the posts on this blog. But I wanted to focus on marriage because I believe that kids are only as happy as their parents. And eventually, when our sweet daughters leave the nest, gainfully employed and able to afford their own apartment and therapist, it will be just us again. And I want that to be a “Did you book the tickets to Jamaica?” kind of moment rather than a “Have you always made that noise while eating eggs?” kind of moment.
I hope some of the struggles and triumphs shared here resonate with you, and I look forward to hearing some of yours!