Bit of a rant this one… but upon reflection, for me, I’m now gonna say that having a baby is the easy part… Continuing to have a happy relationship with your partner is the challenging part.
Now don’t go jumping to any conclusions here. I’m extremely head over heels happy with the man I have chosen to spend the rest of my life with. He’s supportive, sensitive, generous, loving, handsome, loyal and works his butt off to provide the beautiful life we live… but sometimes I visualise punching him the face.
I love him the most of anyone but he has the knack to make me the most angry, the most upset and the most crazed. And then can make me feel like the luckiest girl in the world too.
But when I became a mum, my title or job of being a wife slipped. Out of all my titles, it is the one I forget to nurture the most. And it’s the one that needs the most nurturing of all.
I really want to be that fun, loving wife I see in the magazines. You know the one. The well rested, smiley one. The one out in the field spinning around and around in the long, glorious grass with her offspring as her husband doats at her in the background. But instead I’m the tired, greasy haired, sunken eyed, hairy legged one, wearing smacky trackies that yaps like a small crazed dog when spoken to. I don’t want to be her. I don’t mean to be her. But I am her. I’m a cow.
I’m dubious about those ‘happy’ families I see in the streets. There must be some resentful feelings lurking under those happy, weekend smiles. I don’t understand how some women have a tribe of children and still manage to keep the relationship with their partner all sparkly and peachy keen. And exactly how does one’s marriage stay intact for decades when they have a litter of children? This baffles me. Truly, it does. We have only have one child and we have to work hard at it.
I struggle to keep the balance. I am a mother, a teacher, a cleaner, a chef, a daughter, a sister, a friend, an event organiser and a wife. I feel like I don’t give %100 to any of my titles. I feel like I can’t.
When I catch up with my girlfriends I feel like I never finish a conversation. I jump from one topic to another flippantly and then feel like I have to send a text message later in the day aplogising for not making any sense and I’m so on edge at 5pm when my husband gets home from work that I can’t help snapping at him or ignoring his poor tired face while I’m feeding the little lady, preparing her bedtime routine and not letting our dinner burn on the stove.
Sometimes I just feel like a shit wife.
Hugs. plain old, simple hugs. Hugs between husband and wife. Long, meaningful ones. They are rare these days. Or in the least, very fleeting. I hold our baby girl all day. She’s on me all the time. Up, down, up down. When she’s off me I enjoy the freedom of movement and don’t want another human smothering me. I forget that my husband needs to be held too… and I forget that that’s probably exactly what I need too. To receive a strong, loving cuddle from the one who loves me. To let me know that everything is ‘OK’ and that I still look fine in my smacky trackies and oily hair.
Sometimes I feel like I’m doing it all on my own. The washing, the food, the organising, the everything… but I have to remember we’re in it together. Being a husband and a Dad must be tough too. They kinda lose their best friend when baby comes along.
And I don’t take the time to take care of myself or look pretty anymore.I don’t make that extra effort to impress him anymore. (Not that he cares but it makes me feel better when I do) The other night I was lying in bed, arms up behind my head, resting when something dark caught my attention out of the corner of my eye. My arm pits. My long, hairy arm pits. In shock, I jolted my arms down with the stealth of a ninja and sat there horrified. How did I let them get so long? I had forgotten hair even grew there. I hadn’t shaven them for weeks. I’d been too preoccupied.
I either don’t have time or completely forget to shave my legs, (or pits) blow dry my hair or even wash my hair. I want too but my priorities and time are other places. I’d always heard people say that women let themselves ‘go’ when they marry and have children but it wasn’t relevant to me at the time so it didn’t sink in. It does now though. It’s not that we want to let ourselves go. We have too.
Just the other day one of my girlfriends whom has 2 children had her mumma stop by her house to look after the bubbas so she could wash and blow dry her hair.
So it’s not that we chose to let ourselves go but we prioritise and organise our time differently now. Something’s gotta give so we adjust ourselves to what is really important. And funnily enough the way we look just isn’t that important any more. So we don’t shave. Don’t wax. Don’t moisturise. Don’t fuss about what to wear. Don’t wash our hair. I don’t even exercise anymore. I don’t do a lot of things I used to do.
Washing my hair these days is a luxury. Slipping into a pretty outfit…Heaven! Shaving my legs…oooooo so slippery, everyone touch them! Having a facial… Drool. Doing 1 pilates session… I’m the fittest person on earth.
So once a happy, neat and tidy wife is now…untidy and grumpy. And that’s ok…because I know it’s temporary. It won’t last forever. I’ll get my ‘me’ time back… we’ll get our ‘us’ time back…eventually. But right now she needs us. She needs me. She needs everything from me and I’m gonna give it to her. And that’s ok.
And you know what else is ok? Packing up the fam and heading to the middle of nowhere for fireside snuggly cuddles and some much needed ‘us’ time…which is exactly what we did.
Hug your hubbies and pash your partners extra long tonight ladies.
8 Reasons Why We Need Human Touch More Than Ever | Psychology …
I reckon exercise must help too … not that I have the time to do that… stops you from being cranky! That and a shag! Which I always seem to forget ?