Blog Posts by Andrea Frazer, Good Housekeeping

For a long time after we had kids, I was fine with Rex and my household arrangement. Simply stated, he'd shuffle off to work during the day while I'd work with the kids at home. He'd do the laundry, I'd do the cleaning. He'd do the dishes while I did the cooking. But the kid squabbles, bedtime routines and basic boo-boo/question solving issues? That was all mine.

Until recently.

My son, who is almost eight, is amazing. But he can be a pistol. To say it bluntly, sometimes I just can't take one more question. Yes, I think it's fantastic that he's interested in exactly how the pyramids were constructed, what Michelangelo painted behind those recently discovered trap doors, and why certain fish live in fresh water but not salt water.

But the same inquisitive "why" and "how come's" when it's time to brush teeth and wash hands can drive a mama to drink. No amount of routine, consistency and follow through on my part seems to work when my son is in needling mode.

Rather

There's a lot of talk these days about meditation, but what exactly does that mean? And what does it entail for marriage? After all, if a life-long union is about being permanently connected to somebody else, why on earth would one want to "detach" and "find oneself" instead?

For me, one has no choice but to search for self within marriage. After all, if you don't know who you are, why would you expect your mate to answer it for you? Similar to being a good parent, or being a stellar team mate, if you don't take care of your side of the equation, what good will you contribute to the team?

Some of you might say that searching for self happens before you are married. And to that I give a hearty, "Hooray for you! That is a very logical conclusion!"

But honestly, what do any of us really know about our true nature before the "I do's" kick in? With 50% of marriages ending in divorce, I think we have our answer.

For kicks and giggles, I'll simplify that it's one thing

I read on a billboard once, "Date Your Wife For the Rest of Your Life." It sounds so simple, but man does that ring true!

When I look back at Rex and my courtship, one of the things I loved the most about him was how he dated me. He was so thoughtful and respectful. He wasn't slick or double-minded. He didn't try any moves. He was interested in me for who I was, not just my body.

He not only showed his respect for me with his words, he showed it in his actions. We went for coffee in diners. We attended some silly Hollywood parties that were completely not his thing, but he ponied up anyway. "I am crazy about you," he once told me. "I'm not having some other guy think you're available!"

That sort of protection and adoration made me fall in love with him. To this day, when we hang out just the two of us, I feel it all over again.

Some of you readers might be like me in the sense that kids, crazy work schedules, house duties and family/friend relationships demand

We've all heard the term, "You are what you eat." The same can be true of the men you marry. Writer Babe Scott not only created an entire website based on this concept but she wrote a book, too. Delicious Dating is touted as "The Single Girl's Guide to Decoding Men by Their Wining and Dining Styles."

After dining with over 100 men, Babe broke down her book into a list of male personality types that women can decipher simply by studying what they eat.

"Babe Scott discovered there are 10 major Male Dining Archetypes that span the gamut from Pretzel Players to Food Sensualists to Gourmet Gigolos. Every type has its good points and its bad ones. Which ones you prefer depend on your personal tastes and what you're looking for. After all, sometimes we women are looking to sow our wild oats and sometimes we are looking for rolled oats."

I, for one, would not choose my marriage partner based on Babe's advice, but she does have some excellent points. Rex, for example, shocked

The holidays are fast approaching. With all the food, treats, drinks and general stuff-your-face-ness this season brings, many women complain about dieting stress.

"Oh, man, you're not helping me at all," my friend told me last year as I handed her a plate of cookies. "Wait a second... do those cookies have what I think they have?" she added, to which I responded, "Yes, they are anatomically correct gingerbread men. You like?" Those treats are a tradition of mine every year! (Sorry, Daria... I didn't pass them out to mom friends from school. I ran out of the ... um... defining ingredients.)

Another complaint I often hear is, "I am eating more and exercising less. How the heck am I going to fit into my New Years dress, let alone have the energy needed to get all that shopping done?"

All those complaints are human, and each of us have different solutions to stay healthy. Some of us have given up the fight completely and are fine with our plus size cocktail dresses.

As the season of Thanksgiving approaches, Rex and I are making a conscious effort to work as a team. This often means that he'll put the dishes away while I prep the kids for their nightly procrastination experiment... errrr... bed.

I'll then read to Pip while he reads to Stink.

Sometimes during prayers, though he's not the praying type, he'll pad upstairs in his Ward Cleaver ensemble (plaid pajamas and green bathrobe) and sit with us on the edge of the mattress. We're leggy folk, so fitting four of us into a twin sized day bed is the equivalent of telling 10 clowns to get comfy in a VW Bug. I could care less, though. With the comforting energy of 8 arms and 8 legs crammed together, plus four hearts beating with gratitude for this family we've created, you're not going to catch me complaining about an elbow in my side.

I can't say enough about how, when he makes an effort to support my needs, how motivating it is to make the small details happen for him. Sometimes

When was the last time any of you thanked your husband or wife for being a good parent? I try and tell Rex at least once a week. But sometimes, I like to put it into words. Maybe you'd like to also? It doesn't have to be fancy. Here's my shot at it.

Dear Rex -

I have a confession to make. It's not that I'm seeing other men on the side. I don't have a secret identity. Nor do I have a gambling problem or cram my face with Double Stuffed Oreos when you're not looking.

The real truth? I take pictures of you when you're not looking.

It's not that I aim to be sneaky or lurky, but I just find your way with our kids to be so endearing. If I always said, "Hey, looky here and say, 'Spongebob Poopy Pants'! " I'd get a rakish giggle, but it wouldn't be the real reason I was taking the photo.

Instead, I like to capture the moment a few steps behind you to catch the magic the best I can.

Like yesterday on our walk home from lunch. The leaves were falling so beautifully.

One of the things I always wanted in a spouse was someone who was steady. I wanted someone who was loyal. I wanted a "1950's kind of guy" who was ethical and smart. Not only did I hope for someone who could provide food for my table, I wanted someone to eat at that table every single night.

I also wanted someone who would surprise me every Xmas with Season Tickets to the Ahmanson Theatre.

Rex fits the bill in spades. (Except the theatre ticket part. But my ex-gay boyfriend might just fulfill that dream for me, so all hope is not lost.)

Back to the topic at hand, Laurie David writes about the importance of family eating at the Huffington Post. In her article, she speaks about how our lives change, but our rituals and traditions ground us. Our lives might not be perfect (and in my case I'll add that our meals might not be perfect) but what can be more beautiful than sitting down as a tribe and talking about our day?

In our case, the discussions tend to be more