Dollar Movies

My wife's trade show is going better than she had ever imagined it would. So her update call this morning before opening resounded with confidence and enthusiasm. As the cock crowed and the crowds entered the exhibition hall, she gave a quick "I love you!" as she hung up to attend to them.

I imagine I will have learned several things by the time she returns from what is to date her longest trip away from the kids and me. One thing I've already learned in her absence is that if our marriage disbands (I conspicuously avoid using the term "fails" there, because one might argue that it has already failed), it would be disastrous for everyone were I to get more than token time. Man, being a mom is hard stuff! I'd be much better as the "fun" parent! Except that my patience invariably expires at the third "ask," upon which I immediately get really, really STERN & LOUD! (Insert obligatory "because I don't have the Spirit" acknowledgment here.)

Of course the kids did their chores this morning -- vacuuming, cleaning the bathrooms, etc. Then I made them gourmet burritos for lunch, which they loved. But after that, I went into "Since I can't take all of them skiing on my own [actually, I could have pulled it off, but it would have been an epic undertaking to A-to-Z it solo], how can we make it through the rest of this day in an upbeat and not-entirely-meaningless way?" Step 1 was for #1 to babysit while #4 napped, #2 went to play with friends, and #3 went with me to the Yogi Bear matinee at the dollar theater.

We entered a few minutes late and had to step past a few people en route from the aisle to our seats next to the wall. After my eyes adjusted to the darkness, I noticed that it was a woman, late-20s or so, with three little kids. Didn't think much about it. After a few minutes, she leaned over to me and asked whether #3 needed a booster seat, and if so, "You can borrow one of ours, we're just fine, or I could grab you one because I'm closer to where they stack them. It's no problem, really. Are you sure you don't want one?" This unusual friendliness manifest itself in a few different ways (giggling at semi-cute comments #3 would make, offers of popcorn, effusive apologies when one of her kids bumped #3's arm on the shared armrest, etc.) and at fairly regular intervals until the end of the show. I wondered whether she was just your run-of-the-mill pleaser, or if there was anything else at play.

When the credits rolled and the lights came back to their semi-dim movie theater glow: a) I saw that she was fairly cute, maybe a 7, slender, average height; b) I noticed that she didn't have a ring; c) I realized that the positions and angles were such that she hadn't been able to (and still couldn't) see my left hand; and d) It was clear that she wasn't in a rush to vacate with her little crew, even though the house was almost empty and they were between us and the aisle. My hypothesis quickly congealed, and in order to test it further, I put my left hand my pocket as we made our mass exit. She glanced at me several times as she guided the kids through the corridor, and one last time as she steered them into the lobby restrooms. I stayed in that spot for a few minutes, and when I saw the first of the kids emerge, I looked down at my phone and pretended to be texting (with just my right hand; my left hand was out of view on #3's back) until she was clearly in my peripheral view. I looked up at her, our eyes held for two, maybe three seconds, then I turned #3 toward the door and we left.

I had a few different thoughts as we got into the car and drove off. The first was of intrigue. Just last week, I had a conversation about divorced LDS mothers with a colleague who until last fall had been in the bishopric of his Draper ward. What he shared both from his own observation in his ward and his knowledge of divorced friends (men and women) jibed to the letter with what I've heard elsewhere, including from my best friend from childhood who is unmarried and who was for several years (but is no longer) very active in the mid-20s to mid-30s Wasatch Front dating scene. For your convenience, I've distilled years of earnest, expert research on the topic into these, the Three Truths of divorced LDS mothers in that age range:

1) "Dangit," (direct quote from first-hand experience reported to me), "they always seem to have to have made a baby or two with the guy before finally deciding that the marriage wasn't going to work."

2) They are both liberated and desperate, this balance shifting more and more toward the latter as the novelty of freedom abates with the passage of time from D-Day. And they're arguably more desperate than their non-LDS counterparts, for reasons beyond just finding at worst male validation --to help blur memories of "the jerk"-- and at best a companion and breadwinner, bearing in mind of course the longstanding pattern of LDS women dropping out of college upon marriage, and the younger-than-average ages at which they marry.

3) This desperation (compounded by the rustiness of the "Knowing When To Stop" tools of a divorcee, especially one who is relatively recently divorced) leads them to "lay it all out there" to prospects, with surprising willingness, speed, frequency and vigor, most likely as a strong maternal instinct (see "breadwinner") in order to hook a man.

So my first thoughts were about that, and I amused myself by wondering (only in passing) whether, if I played my cards right/wrong, I could manage to do something desperate with her tonight. Then my next thoughts, and the ones that lingered, were more sobering, as I pictured my own kids as the ones being schlepped around on a cold and sleety Saturday afternoon by a determined but desperate, divorced mom.