What's Your Fantasy?


My husband left town last night to go to Dodger (that’s baseball for those who are sports-challenged) Fantasy Camp. For a week. Now, you might think that I’m going to start ranting and raving about how typical this is, and about how unfair it is that he gets to go off and indulge in some stupid fantasy while I am stuck home with the reality of two kids and a nasty chest cold, but I’m not. I know, I know, it’s a bummer, because it would have been super fun. But the truth is, it was my idea. It was my gift to him, actually, for his thirty-fifth birthday. One week in Vero Beach, Florida, a/k/a Dodgertown, where he gets to pretend that he’s a genuine, Los Angeles Dodger (His own home and away team uniforms! A real baseball card with his picture on it! Double-headers every day!), with absolutely zero guilt about it from me. Yes, I know, I’ve outdone myself this time. But just because I promised that there would be no guilt, does not mean that there will be no ridiculing. See? And you thought this wasn’t going to be fun.


There are two parts to the back story. First, my husband played baseball in college, and he is, actually, quite good. As he likes to say, if he were just two inches taller, it would have been Michael Green, not Shawn Green. (Just nod here and pretend you know that Shawn Green is a thirty-five year-old Jewish guy from

California who was a first round draft pick out of Stanford, and who played for the Dodgers for five seasons). Second – and this is hard to get across on paper – my husband is crazy. Not crazy, like, needs to be committed, crazy, but more along the lines of odd and eccentric crazy. For example, he gets really excited about things like rare, vintage brands of soda, and for six years, he spent every Saturday morning at an agility class with our dog. Oh, and he’s also under the impression (delusion?) that he’s still a kid. As in, “I should be better than a lot of the other guys at Dodger Camp, don’t you think? I mean, most of them are grown ups.” And when I point out that most people would consider a thirty-five year-old man who has a wife, two kids, a mortgage and his own business to be a grown up, he just blinks and says, no, but they’re real grownups. That kind of crazy.



ha ha, your husband sounds like an alright guy. his craziness sparks humor.


I'm a SKI WIDOW. Seriously. As in, when my daughter woke up at 4AM to pee, my husband escorted her back to bed, put on his long johns, threw his skis in the car and left for Squaw Valley. He called me at 7AM, waiting for the lifts to open. He couldn't get a condo, so he'll be back late tonight. lucky me. My only consolation is that it is a short season in California and he can't actually catch a disease with this obession.


I and quite a few women in my area with school-age children have discovered tennis. It's the perfect sport for women: a combination of exercise, socializing, and shopping. Give it a try! We're pretty obsessed with it.


My husband is really into sailing. At first, I got annoyed that he didn't want to spend time with all of us whenever he had free time. I have since realized that if I support his hobby, he is very supportive of me doing what I want to do. I love skiing. He isn't that keen on it, but he is very supportive of me going off skiing for a few days with friends since he spends a lot of evenings in the summer and spring sailing. If we both go off and do our own thing every once in a while, it gives us something more to talk about than kids when we get some time for just the two of us as well.

I do think the hobby thing is more of a man thing, since I see this with a lot of my women friends and relatives, but it can be a good thing for us too.

Mom to 3