I can't be the only one.

I love my husband, I really do, but I can't be the only wife who's ever looked at her beloved a little bit menacingly after raising his life insurance. The last two times I was pregnant, we upped the amount of life insurance on A, for the same reason anyone does. I have no income and it might totally traumatize the kids if I had to put them in daycare right after their father died so I could go work at the Dairy Queen. And I need money for stuff like beauty treatments, a personal trainer, sweet clothes and other things that might help me score a new husband. And, oh yeah, I might want to pay for college and other random stuff for the kids.

I'm a very practical sort of person and I've already told A that I would use about $50,ooo of the insurance right away for necessities, including, but not limited to, the following:

• An awesome dress or suit for the funeral. If he dies in the fall or winter, I plan to wear a wool suit, pencil skirt and very fitted jacket, nipped in at the waist. If he dies in the spring or summer, I'll probably wear a sheath in silk or linen. And whatever I wear, it'll be super expensive, because I won't have time to mess around looking for a bargain. Ahem.



• Shoes for the funeral. As much as I love Louboutins, the red soles might be too flashy, so I'll probably go with Chanel or Prada, or Pedro Garcia if I'm feeling rebellious. I can't decide if it would be tacky to wear seamed stockings. Glamorous, yes, but maybe a bit over the top, even for me.



• A hat. Hmmmm...does anyone still wear a hat?
  



• Till to come to my house and do my hair. I have no idea if he does this, so I would have to pay him a lot, but I can't show up to my husband's funeral looking like a hag and I think it would be tacky to go to the salon. Plus, Till's blowouts are so good they last for days, which would be good for receiving visitors.
  



• Plastic surgery. I'm not telling you what kind, because that's personal. I think I should have the surgery within a week of A's death. That way, I can recover when I'm supposed to be home mourning anyway and I'll be able to hit the ground running when it's appropriate.



• A television, to watch while I'm healing from the surgery.



• A nanny, so I can get some sleep.



• A housekeeper, so I won't miss A folding the laundry. That's something he does that I really, really appreciate. I hate folding laundry so much that I used to use the dryer as my dresser. I wore stuff from the dryer until it was empty. I used the washing machine as a hamper. It wasn't a bad system, really, but it doesn't work for a family of five (well, four if A is gone, but still).



• Personal trainer. I'm old and I got three babies. 'Nuff said.
  



• Therapy for me and the kids.

When I'm pregnant, I'm not always in a great mood. The first time we went to get life insurance, I was pregnant with our second child and had already gained about fifty pounds, which felt like a lot. Little did I know, I would put on twenty or thirty more, but I digress. A and I sat in Mr. P's office, feeling rather proud of ourselves for being so grownup, I'm sure. We discussed what price to put on A's head an appropriate amount and I was shocked to learn how much my husband was worth. Fifty pounds overweight because of something he did, I wasn't his biggest fan at the time. I figured I would have to pay someone to haul him off. I started asking questions.

"So, Mr. P, what happens when...oops!...I mean if, he dies?"

"You'll get the amount we agreed on."

"In cash?"

"Um, no. I'll bring you a check."

"To my house?"

"Yes."

"You, personally, will bring the check?"

"Yes, I will."

"And you won't be shy, right? I mean, I'll be mourning and all, but you do know it will be okay to come by. With the check."

"Ah...yes." I could tell he was getting uncomfortable, so I decided not to ask if he would also bring a casserole.

"Will it be a big check, like Ed McMahon brings?"

"Um, no, just the regular size."

"Aw, I was just kidding." Mr P and my husband laughed in relief, nervously. "But, seriously, when you bring the check, will it be good? I mean, could I technically take it to the bank and cash it right that second? If I wanted to?"

"Um, yes."

At this point, my very embarrassed and terrified husband broke into the conversation.

"If I'm murdered she doesn't get a check, right? I just wanted to make sure that was clear," he said, glaring at me.

"That's correct."

Well, duh, I knew that.

And of course Mr. P tried to talk us into getting insurance for me, but I did the math and I spend a lot more than any housekeeper or nanny ever would. And I'm pretty sure the grandparents would help out if I was dead and A's only option was to dump the kids in some sub-par daycare. Also, even though I'm not dead, I am lazy, so we already pay babysitters and a housekeeper. Therefore, those wouldn't be new expenses. Incidentally, we did try to get life insurance for me when I was not quite pregnant with Baby J and I got turned down, because I'm just too precious to insure, I suppose*.

According to A, I looked at him in a really threatening way for about a week after each time we raised his insurance. I won't deny it, but in the end I do understand that money couldn't buy his jokes, his relationship with our children, his Scrabble skills or any number of other things I know I would miss. I'd much rather have him than the money, really! However, I have let him know that I will be very angry if he dies right after the term ends. If he has to go around that time, I'd much rather him do it the month before than the month after. I'm just being practical.

Namasté, y'all!

* Truth: that wasn't the reason. I failed the medical exam. The insurance company sent a nurse to my house to do the exam for my application. I had returned from the hospital the day before and was recovering from a miscarriage and subsequent D & C. I have primary hypertension that's medicated, but my medication was a bit off, because I had just left the hospital. And I hadn't had the best few days of my life, either. I told the nurse I had had a miscarriage two days before and she didn't answer. I was still sitting on the couch in my sweatpants when she let herself out the door, without saying goodbye. She was really sweet. Not. My blood pressure reading was high, so they turned me down. Surprise, surprise. I got pregnant with Baby J two months later and we haven't tried to get insurance again. So, if I die, you might want to offer to do some babysitting for free.