I am one of those people who gush about how perfect their husband is. How he is a great dad… And all those mushy feelings *gag*
But don’t be fooled. Sometimes my husband is a toddler. Sometimes he drives me crazy and I want to put a fork in his eye. SOMETIMES – babe if you’re reading this, I do love you, but sometimes you’re a cuntacciosa.
I was reading some studies about how after you have a baby you can resent your husband. I also read articles about how babies can ruin your relationships. (Instead of spending time with my husband, I read articles about how I should spend time with him.)
I can see how both can happen. You no longer have time to make the effort that you could before, and when you’re battling bed time, what down time do you have? By the time the kids are in bed, the only energy I have is to eat the chocolate I hid in the day, and I want to troll over Facebook and comment on articles with passive aggressive comments about how mothers should stop judging each other, or how you should spend more time with your children (which coincidentally, I ignore my family to do)
I don’t want to talk. I don’t want to make romance. I just want to sloth it out after another day in the war zone.
It’s my down time.
Last night he really pissed me off. The monster toddler was in bed so I figured now it’s a time while he’s asleep that I can make myself some snacks to chill out, baby was on the floor chilling too. I figured, surely after nights of no sleep that hubby will put baby down so that I can relax.
No. No he did not.
He decides he needs to go to the shops to get chocolate, and asks me what flavour I want like he’s going for me. Don’t act like you’re doing me a favour buddy… You’re going for yourself and escaping having to settle our 4 month old.
I had to stop making my almond biscuits… In the end, I didn’t get any. I was shittttttty.
Seriously, if this is all I can complain about then I’ve probably got it good? But I can and I will complain. I’m sure I can be annoying as well… But I highly doubt it. ?
My friend and I often go back and forth bitching about life, bitching about our toddlers, our babies, our husbands. Mainly our husbands, so I’ve asked her to co-write this blog with me for a good ol’ bitchin session…
ladies, if you feel me, throw yo hands up at meeeeh
Husbands, partners, boyfriends, fiancé’s – they can be like toddlers. Let’s compare shall we?
when toddlers want something, they want it now!!
They fuss to get it and they get it!…
Much like my husband and his chocolate. When I suggested he wait until I finish making my almond cookies, his face fell. I swear he stomped his feet. He had to go now. Couldn’t wait 15 bloody minutes.
They’re messy. – I mean, do I need to explain how they’re messy? PUT YOUR EFFEN WET TOWEL IN THE LAUNDRY. NOT THE FLOOR. NOT THE HALLWAY. THE LAUNDRY.
They break shit. I remember once we got this free change table. It was amazing, but upon transport and my husband and his friends’ poor Tetris skills, it was pulled apart and then much like humpty dumpty, could not be put together again.
Bye bye beautiful change table. (Yes I know he made the effort to go get it, but its all perspective ok)
They’re the fun. My Son has learned how to say “daddy” before mummy. In fact he even calls my husband “Mummy”. He is the fun. He isn’t enforcing the nappy changes, the good behaviour, the eat-all-your-vegetables. He is wrestling on the floor and giving raspberry tickles. Mum is the monster who is forcing us to eat these green things that resemble trees, whilst resembling Oscar the Grouch. (Sometimes I feel as if I am living in a trash can..)
Let’s be real – the parenting relationship can be 80/20! There is only one of us who worries. Yep, he gives 20, you give 80. Don’t get me wrong, I am talking about the parenting role in its entirety. Sure, my husband works all day, and comes home to help with baths and bedtime if he can, but who’s planning healthy meals for the kids? Me. Who is keeping on top of administering antibiotics or pain relief for sick and teething tots? Me. Is he worrying about the washing/ironing that’s piling up? Or the lack of food in the fridge? Or the constant fear that my toddler will kill his younger sibling? Nope, that one is on me too. Let’s not forget my relentless need to google, ‘Why is my toddler so thin? Why does my toddler hit his sibling?How can I stop baby from biting my nipples? Top 50 schools in Melbourne? Should I hold my child back?’
You get it. They get it too. He doesn’t call me Wikipedia for nothin’.
So how can they help?
It’s actually so easy!
Men, take the lead. Take a bag from my heavy, tired arms. Call me on your way home and ask me if I need anything from the shops (wine, always wine). A problem shared is a problem halved! Give me that extra 10%… Go on, I’m actually not that hard to please. Run me a bath when I look frazzled. Tell me I look beautiful when I actually get a chance to do my hair and put on some face cake. Buy ME chocolates or flowers for no good reason at all. Worry about following the food pyramid chart with our children, and let me do the wrestling. A little support will go a long way.
Let’s leave the tantrums to our gorgeous and endearing two year olds, shall we?
If you need me, I’ll be hiding. Once my husband reads this post I imagine I will have to move out. Just kidding, I’ll somehow make it his fault.