My own reality show-

Spring 1998-

According to my husband, the smartest decision that he made was to say "yes" when I proposed to him. Then he told me that my best financial decision was to ask him to marry me. Okay, so we are even. He is smart and I am greedy. That works for me.

Months before we moved in together, I received a letter from his mother. She was advising me that this might be a bad move for me; she said that it was risky to expose my son to an uncertain relationship. That he should just be having fun after a divorce. How sure was I that this relationship would lead to something permanent, she asked. Etcetera.

I disposed her letter but I kept her son. I do not listen to someone else's mother's unsolicited advice especially if it concerns her son and myself. The only thing uncertain when I got that letter was whether I would respond or not. And I did. I said thank you for the advice but this is my relationship and if I needed advice, I would write to Ann Landers.

Okay, maybe not in those terms but I made it plain that the two people whose decision matters are over 21 years old, of legal age to consume alcohol and sign contracts. Etcetera.

-the day of reckoning:

The housekeeper moved in first. Then each of us followed. I moved myself, my son, our clothes, and none of my furniture. Where do I hang my Balinese masks? I was not crazy about his prints and he was not too keen on my "bizarre" masks. He wanted to measure distances between wall hangings, I just hang them wherever and be done with it. Both of us probably concluded moving in together was a big mistake, I yelled that he was far too rigid, he yelled something but I did not listen, we both yelled in unison at each other, and the maid retreated to the basement--I angrily hauled all my masks to Kris'room and hammered left and right on the wall. The housekeeper was spooked. What kind of crazy people would fight on the first day of moving in? Finally, she followed me upstairs and said to me "Please do not fight. Talk to him, he looks like a hurt puppy." I hissed at her, "And what am I, a dog whisperer?"

I have been minding my own business for over a decade, hanging things on my wall, buying my own wine, cars, clothes, books, and someone tells me I cannot hang a mask just so? Okay, so I need to relearn to compromise. And for the next eight months, the two of us learned to agree, disagree, discuss, listen, and talk it out, and sometimes yell to make a point. A point not always well taken. The problem is that he would be, in my opinion, the cunning prosecutor and I was the underdog, I was in this case pro se, without the advantage of a law degree.

However, I was a woman with a mission. Makibaka! I wanted it stated for the record that I am not and never will be subservient. I will not stay home and fix fried rice and chicken with broccoli, and most of all, I will not be told to "shut up." Or there will be blood.

I was from Venus and he was from Uranus, in my estimation. And when the roles are reversed, I am a total Mianusian:) with the firepower of a bilingual runaway meteor that will hit left, right, and center. I fought to win. But in the end, the lessons we both learned about listening to and considering another perspective are more important than having the last word.

We later came to a place where both sides are heard, discussed, and concluded in a manner where no one feels subjugated. Only much later, after I have taken law courses did I realize that pointed questions are asked (by him) to understand the issue and make intelligent decisions. I no longer view Scott as the intimidating interrogator. Rather, I view him as the one person who is interested in my intent and motives and forced me to articulate my needs and reasoning and in the process, he honed my skills to be the confident negotiator and advocate I am today. I viewed him as the jury that I needed to convince, beyond reasonable doubt that I am right and he is wrong!

In any case, those months were the dress rehearsal of our marriage. During that time, we maintained our separate bank accounts. No one needed to ask the opinion of the other where finances were concerned. He paid the mortgage, I paid my own bills. He bought the car, I drove it. He paid for the utilities, I picked up the dry cleanables. He paid the nanny, I told her what to do. Then we got married.

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there were scripted realities/milestones in marriage -
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Reality 1: On our wedding night, my husband handed me a credit card. It had my first name and his last name on it. He told me that from now on, this was the card I would use. We defined incidentals, necessities, and differentiated the "I want it" from "I need it." The limit as to how much I can spend was generous. It equaled the limit of all my credit cards combined before I got married but it stunned me when I saw that my last name on the card was no longer my father's name. Furthermore, he proudly presented me with a book of a joint checking account.

I lost it. "Wait, what do you mean, your name is with my name on this checking account? No, no, no, this is not right. I want my own name and I want my own checks and I do not want your name and my name together on a bank account! Are you crazy?" I had my hands over my face, he was crestfallen. He was not prepared for this mental case he just married earlier in the day. He said, "Oh, remember we are now married?" "I know that! So what? This is not acceptable. No, I am sorry, I cannot do this. I have had my own name on my own bank accounts and all of a sudden..." I wept. I wept for my loss of control over my name! I wept because it dawned on me that I, now and forevermore,.shall have and hold, for calm and stress, famine or feast, for headaches and other such ailments, this man before me so long as we both shall live. Those are serious words! I was fine with that at this moment, but what's with the joint accounts? "Okay, he said, let us fix this. Okay, calm down."

So this is how we fixed it: we have a joint account for our family expenses, I have my own account, and he has his. We refer to our individual accounts as our "DF" (discretionary funds) money; no one has to justify how our DF money is spent.

The next month, our credit card bill came. He was skeptical. The "inquisition" started. It started innocently. "Do you balance your checkbook?" "No. Why do you ask?" "Because I do not like you getting in trouble. Is there a reason why you don't balance it?" "Because! I know how much money I spend and I know not to write checks if I do not have the funds! Excuse me, I am not stupid!"


"Did you not go shopping a lot this month? "Yes!" "Did you buy clothes and shoes for Kris?" "Yes, No, Yes, Yes !" "Jeeezzz, what the hell? What is the problem, your HONOR?" I realized I was the only one in hysterics in this particular scene. I calmed down.

"Okay, okay, I mean yes, I bought a lot but no I did not charge it on our credit card and yes they are paid for so what is your problem?" "How?" "Well, I charged Kris' stuff on my own personal card." "Why did you do that?"

I hate "WHYs." It forces me to defend my actions/decisions. WHY is your blouse orange. Why NOT? Why did you eat the tomatoes? Because I want to annoy you, that's why! Why did you laugh? Because I did not want to cry. Agh! Hello? Back to hysterics.

"Because.... know what, I really think that it is none of your business." "Okay, let me ask it another way. What made you use your own money to buy Kris' stuff?" "Well, do you remember what you told me when you gave me a credit card? You said that I should have a plan on what to buy. Well, I go to the store with a plan and then I see something cute to buy for Kris and I know that was not in the plan so I paid for those things with my own money." Why was I feeling embarrassed? WHY?

"Oh, I see. That is not acceptable."

"What do you mean it is not acceptable? You DO NOT decide what I can or cannot buy for my son. I work too, you know." I was ready to assault and batter someone's son. It was my turn to ask WHY.

"Why do you ask stupid questions?" (At this point, the font I used when asking was....42! That was loud!:-)

He was still on "font 12," normal--

"I mean, it is not acceptable that you spend your own money. Kris' stuff- clothes, shoes, everything, is to be paid for by family money, that is what I mean." He asked for my check book, did the calculation and handed me a check for over $500 with a warning "From now on, I do not ever want you to spend your own money on Kris' stuff. We are a family. " Ooooooh, so that was it...okay, I can accommodate that:-). Oh, sorry I got a little carried away there (But I did not tell him that....)

Reality 2: Throughout my adult life until I got married, I sacrificed one thing to get another. So, when I wanted something badly, I would always tell my husband that I am willing to forego having something else in exchange for another. He told me that I should never, ever, negotiate against myself. He told me that I should not forego one thing to have another so long as I can provide a compelling reason. I learned that I can have both, it is just a matter of which one I wanted first. I want the digital piano to learn to play it and I want an acoustic piano to enjoy playing it. Done. I want the big family car because we need the space and I also want the cute little car because a toy car is safer than a Harley. Done. I want to go on an African safari because you said I would love it and I also want to see the Iguazu in Argentina because I know I would love it. Done. I want the piano lessons, the Mandarin lessons, and the midlife crisis reinvention- of- self degree. Done. All with compelling reasons, as you can see.

That is the key: compelling argument. Once you master the art of an intelligent and reasonable argument without whining or being a jerk about it, you will pretty much win your case.

Reality 3: One of the things that I learned in my over-a-decade long marriage is that it is good to go in with a clear assumption and expectation. The assumption that I will work outside the home is safe but to assume that I will be an obsessively Martha Stewart with organized closets at the same time would be a big mistake. Big, big mistake. I expected that I would contribute financially to the household but to expect that I would hand over everything in my wallet was not realistic.

I assumed that I would have a major part in every major decision in the household and my voting power is not related to how much I am contributing to the family funds. Because let us face it, the grace,

beauty;-) the joy ;-/, the fun ;-) and the modesty regarding my abilities that I contribute to Scott's life is Master Cardesque. He assumed as much. Well done. Yey, Scott!

It has been 13 years since I first declared to my now mother-in-law that Filipinos use chopsticks. I have since confessed to her that I was terrified of the meeting and I botched it. I have since embraced the eclectic aspects of marrying a WASP. We thrive in our differences and we don't intrude in each other's independence of self. We sometimes differ in our views, but we look at the same direction for our family's future together. I provide the comedic relief in this union- whether intentional or not. But I also provide a perspective that my husband has come to count on. For his part, he provides me the opportunities to be the free spirit that I am. He gives me counsel and reason. His approach is more on the intellectual versus emotional level when I need it whether in my personal or professional life. We laugh with, and not at each other, and we love each other no matter what.

My reality show is on its 11th season and so far, it has not "jumped the shark" yet. I take the endorsements of my "sponsors" with a grain of salt, seek counsel from within myself and go on with the show.

Quiet on the set! Lights, camera, and....action!