Family Managers

8:17 pm

In Case Your Life Is Stressing You Out

Living in Scottsdale is a rare experience. Besides the fact that divorce insurance is the new rage so you can calculate an estimate of costs including moving, child care, new furnishings and counseling, our local magazine ran a six-page spread on “10 Ways Not to Lift a Finger.” I’m sure if I fully understood what a Family Manager does I’d want one, too. I know I’m not interested in divorce insurance because Maury and I made an agreement a long time ago that we’re not getting divorced. Why?

Because neither of us can take care of our adult needy children and my kvetching mother alone. It requires precise team work to babysit, pick up prescriptions, shoe shop, answer questions about CNN and FOX News and weather complaints on a variety of subjects including my wardrobe, Wolf Blitzer’s wardrobe and why children behave the way they do.

So, when Glee and April called me together in one of their ill-plotted schemes I was amazed at their level of technology to do a three-way call–this must have been an emergency–and their bizarre suggestion.

“Jean, you’re stressing out over little things. Maury losing his keys again means your family needs a manager. Someone who can keep track of everything,” says Glee in her authoritarian I-know-what’s-good-for-you voice.

April dives in with, ” Roxie Bartlomew has a family manager who monitors all their family dynamics. She buys baby gifts, makes hors’doerves, schedules doctor appointments and runs errands.”

“Can she go to the gym for me?”

“Jean, don’t be ridiculous. She can take over some of the things you don’t like to do or don’t have time for…like picking up your mother for her dental and podiatrist appointments,” offers Glee.

I can hear it now…

“Jean, there’s a strange woman here dressed in inappropriate shorts who wants me to get into her vehicle for my visit to  Dr. Saperstein’s office. She’s very insistent. I think I’m being kidnapped. If anything happens to me my jewelery has been moved from the frozen string beans in the freezer to the box of prunes in the the pantry. No one would look there.”

“Ladies, I appreciate your concern but I think I have to live my harried, crazy stressed life myself. Without assistance. I can’t hire someone to live it for me.”

“Well, we’re worried about you.”

“I understand. But this conversation is giving me more anxiety because I’m not emptying the dishwasher and counting my vitamins. Did you know fish oil, besides giving you unholy breath, prevents against memory loss?”

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