I think wives commonly have ambition for their husbands. Some women want to be married to doctors or senators. Others don’t care what the profession is, so long as the result is likely to put them on “The Real Housewives of Your Geographical Area.”

I admit, I feel some esteem from my husband’s brains. He’s genius smart. I feel lucky that I snagged a smart one. Goodness knows I dated enough pretty dumb things. I used to want to be the smarter one in the relationship. I needed to feel superior to another person at all times. It was to make up for the fact that inside I felt inferior to everyone. After many years of therapy, I felt good about myself. Good enough to find me a kind, handsome man with low self-esteem and mathematic genius.  That’s who the Cosmo Quiz told me would be my perfect match.

There was a time when I wanted him to be a college professor, because I wanted to be a college professor’s wife. I’m like some chick from “Game of Thrones” who wants her husband to be king, right?

I’m also insecure and jealous. Therapy, shmerapy. As Lady Gaga would say, I was born this way. I was attracted to Odie the second I saw him, and I don’t exactly have low standards. Now he has a wedding ring, graying hair and two kids. Chicks eat that shit up. If I bought him a blazer with elbow patches, I’d have to also buy a gun and get a permit to carry.

Have you seen how adorable college girls are? And technically, it isn’t illegal to date your professors in college. It’s only unethical. My jealous, insecure and slightly nutty center believes that 20-somethings would hurl themselves at my husband with wild abandon, and though he would duck at first, eventually his back would ache and he’d get slow, and one would land on his face.

My fear of college co-eds writing “love you” on their eyelids during Odie’s lectures tends to rise proportionally with my weight.

Odie decided college wasn’t for him. He got the required education and degree to get on the professor track, but he lacks the passion for it. He likes working with public school kids. I’m not destined to be a professor’s wife, alas.

Today he brought home news that he is being pushed toward the AP Physics job at his high school. Good thing they’re pushing him, too; because according to physics, if they didn’t, he would never move any closer to that job.

“My husband teaches AP Physics” has a nice ring to it. Not that I’m not happy with “My husband teaches high school math.” I’ve just always had a thing for science. Plus, physics is real. No one can convincingly say to a teacher, “When am I ever going to use physics?”

This weekend, Viva told her friend that it was dark because the sun was on the other side of the Earth. And when I watched the intro to “The Daily Show with Jon Stewart,” she pointed at the globe graphic and announced, “That’s our planet, Mommy!”

He taught her those things. It’s what he’s interested in.

And before you get all snarky, YES, I know that’s not physics. It’s astrology. Duh.

I’ve said it before, and I’ll say it again: I want Odie to be happy. I’m not the only one in this family who struggles with depression. Math can be so dry in high school. It’s all standards and memorization. None of the beauty and creativity that REAL math is. I think he might enjoy trying something else.

I know I’ll enjoy being proud of him. And bragging. I’m good at that.