"I'd Rather Share My Husband"

It’s about to happen again. We’re moving. Although we’re not looking forward to the chaos and disorder that comes from packing up a house and hauling it across town, we are eager to be living back on the beach. The problem is going to come when we begin to arrange the furniture and decorate. Most couples have no problem doing this. The woman decorates and the man keeps his mouth shut and signs the checks. However, I live with three ladies, who I affectionately call my girls, who have similar, and yet, varying tastes. They also run the gamut from very conservative and formal to eclectic and bright. My job, other than signing the checks, is to attempt to keep a balance between it all as well as tempers from being flared. It’s all part of living together in our home.

A friend of ours says she couldn’t do it. “I’d rather share my husband than have to share my house with another woman.” I can understand. It’s her domain. She wants it to look like she wants it and not someone else’s design. Her home needs to represent her worldview and decorative tastes. Her home is about her and I can understand that.

However, ours is about a family and it takes a little more effort to make sure everyone is represented. That’s going to require patience, communication, compromise, and a brand new bottle of Jameson.

It’s also a time for a fresh start, a solidifying of who we are as a family, making the home ours and not a hodge podge of each other. We’ve done it once before. When Char and I moved in with Teri, it was a meshing of two households. We had to cram two houses full of furniture, knick knacks and memories into one home. It was important to make sure that what was important to everyone survived the transition without causing the house to resemble a garage sale collection. It was tough, but we managed it and the house was a sanctuary for ourselves and our friends for a couple of years.

Then the first move came. We had to leave the beach and move mainland. It was time to make it truly our home. New furniture was purchased, new curtains selected and even new knick knacks were picked out. Quite a bit was packed away into storage tubs and stacked in the garage. Even more was purged out of the house altogether and done away with to make room for the new. The girls went up and down every aisle in every store, discussing and choosing each selection carefully that represented each of them. Again, I just signed the checks.

Then a couple of years ago, Sarah joined our family and it was decided to move her into our home. We were back to blending tastes as well as furniture, creating an intermingling of personalities that didn’t appear as a thrift store. Our house was full and we had decided to double the contents inside. Walls can only hold so much and we were pushing them to their limits. And I had just cleaned and organized the garage!

Yet, we’re moving again, back to the beach, and the chaos is already underway. My garage is full of boxes and the ladies are full of nerves. I’m excited, however, because once gain we can make the house ours. They’ve already ordered new comforters sets for the bed and are picking out new colors for the rest of the house and back porch. They’re planning new gardens and organizing cupboards. They’re talking, arguing, and then compromising. And all I have to do is sign the checks and keep them from killing each other. Yet, it’s worth it, because instead of “that’s Char’s” or “that’s Teri’s” or “that’s Sarah’s,” it’s all ours.

We don’t want separate houses. We want to be together without splitting up our time, so the couple of months of chaos and deep negotiations is worth it to keep us in our special haven and beside each other. The family comes first and the girls have become used to sharing. It’s all worth it to obtain our goals and the life we want. As our wall says, “our forevers are together,” and we’ll do whatever it takes to keep us moving forward and together.

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