You’re probably thinking, she means she needs an assistant, a secretary, an organizer. But I know what I’m saying. I don’t need a little help, I need a lot of help — and for that you need a wife.

It’s parent-teacher night, and I’m racing across the school building trying to make my five-minute-appointments for 13 different teachers to speak about three of my daughters. As I rush from teacher to teacher, I keep one eye on the clock while trying desperately to remember my questions, comments, and concerns. I sink my arm up to the elbow into the yawning abyss of my 500-pound pocketbook, searching for a pen, and emerge with a tongue depressor, three broken crayons, and a deflated balloon. It is at this moment that I realize how desperately I need a wife.

No, I’m not dating. I already have a husband and he’s great. He does all the husbandly stuff and then some. He works hard, davens, learns, and scrapes ice off my windshield. He makes scrambled eggs, kills bugs, puts up the succah, and sometimes keeps my lipstick in his suit jacket at weddings if my dress doesn’t have pockets.

But what I really need is a wife.

You’re probably thinking, she means she needs an assistant, a secretary, an organizer. But I know what I’m saying. I don’t need a little help, I need a lot of help — and for that you need a wife.

I’m not asking for much. I just need someone to worry about me and support me and encourage me. I need someone to replace the cap on the toothpaste and remind me that I have to get a flu shot and then nag at me until I actually do it. I need someone who’ll cook my favorite foods, except when I’m dieting and then they’ll cook steamed broccoli garnished to look like my favorite foods. I need someone to tell me I look great in whatever I’m wearing and that I don’t look fat, I look lovable.

I need someone to fervently whisper a prayer for me as she lights the candles, and as she kneads challah dough. I need someone to remember my birthday and not because I reminded her of it. I need someone to keep an eye on my speedometer and distract me from the aggravations of traffic with cute stories.

I need a wife to listen and smile when I tell my stories, even if I’ve already told them 5,000 times. I need her to occasionally hate my boss on my behalf, but then explain why I shouldn’t really take what he said to heart and that it will all work out okay. I need someone to cut out little cartoons that might make me laugh and to remind me to put on suntan lotion. I need someone who’ll take an inventory of the refrigerator periodically and buy missing staples and replace the box of baking soda. I need someone who knows what kind of cottage cheese I like. For goodness’ sake, can’t you see how badly I need a wife?!

“A woman of valor who can find?” Shlomo Hamelech asks in Mishlei. So true! I certainly haven’t found one!

Although, to be honest, I haven’t been looking that hard. Who has time? It’s getting late and I still need to clear the plastic cups off the table and lay out the children’s clothing for tomorrow and write a menu for Shabbos and defrost the chopped meat and call my neighbor to borrow snow pants for my son’s snow tubing trip and stick a Post-it note on my husband’s briefcase to remind him to take his lunch.

I’m supposed to e-mail the appliance company about the whistling sound the urn is making and daven for each child and think about Purim costumes and polish the candlesticks and remember that the 15th is my daughter’s half birthday and soak the uniform shirts in bleach because washable markers are not always washable. I’ve got to photocopy the kid’s health forms and schedule visits to the orthodontist and replace the cap on the fluoride-free bubblegum-flavored toothpaste (because some people think that mint is too “burny”) and clean the stuffed sink drain and worry about everyone. I need to put away the summer clothing that was sorted months ago and make something edible with the droopy vegetables and put the pictures in an album and inventory the freezer.

There’s so much to be done and I need to do it! Because, at the end of the day (which is coming very soon!) the only wife here is me.

(Originally featured in Family First, Issue 378)