I Can Totally Get Behind The Idea Of Having A Sister Wife

I’m not a religious person, unless you count me saying “bless you” every once in awhile when someone sneezes. Or the occasional twinge of Catholic guilt that pops up every Lent.

I’ve never had a strong hankering to find a religion either; I kind of waffle along with the philosophy that if there’s a higher being, we’ll be cool as long as I’m not too much of a dick to my fellow man. She’ll be like a cool big sister who won’t blame me for a little skepticism, given the circumstances.

After this summer, though, I might have to reconsider that philosophy, because suddenly there’s a religious tenet I feel like I could get behind: plural marriage. Or really anything that will get me a sister wife.

First things first, of course. I would prefer that no one sleep with my husband except me, and I understand that this kind of defeats the whole purpose. But holy shit I am on the verge of even ignoring that because let me tell you that having an extra mom around at all times is supertits. Let me explain a little.

This summer, my family and I experienced what has to be the most anticlimactic upheaval and move ever known to man. Back in May, my husband got a new job in a city three hours away, but he wouldn’t start it until July. We had to sell our home and opted to buy a new one, and while both closed a day apart, the sellers at the new place refused to GTFO until last Saturday.

This is how I came to stay with my best friend and future co-wife for almost a month while we all hurried up to wait.

The first week, my husband, daughter and I stayed with my friend and her two-year-old and despite the fact that this was supposed to be the suckiest week in recent history it was kind of amazing.

The three of us formed some kind of living, breathing, Rube-Goldberg machine in which someone was always cooking, cleaning, or parenting. We were tossing children back and forth, and between the three of us everything actually, blessedly, got finished. No one was overly exhausted at the end of the day. No one felt ripped off because they did more than they should have. We all got to drink alcoholic drinks at the end of the day because everything was all done.

This got me thinking–maybe Kody “The Hormones Go Into Your Mouth” Brown isn’t so much crazy as he is crazy like a fox.

Okay, no, he’s definitely crazy and he has weird hair but where before I couldn’t understand how a family dynamic could work that way, I’m starting to get an inkling of why it does. Even after my husband left, my friend and I were more successful at co-parenting that my husband and I usually are when he isn’t across the state.

I think ultimately I don’t want anyone else giving my husband handjibbers, so having a co-wife is definitely out. On the other hand, there’s something that’s particularly appealing to me about communal parenting, or even just letting someone else mom for you for awhile. I was definitely stressed while my husband was away, but not nearly as badly as I was anticipating.

Now that we’re moved in, life suddenly seems really boring, sans my friend and her two-year-old. Maybe I can find a replacement, Single White Female style. Or just convince my friend to move across the state, I guess.

(Image: Mincemeat/Shutterstock)