I am a stay at home mum. I’m a Housewife. I’m also a wife. Those 3 things do not always go hand in hand.
But it’s easy staying at home (yep. Somedays its like sweeping leaves in a hurricane.) I’m so lucky not to have to go to work. (Genuinely. I have no end of admiration for hubby being able to get himself up for work after a crap night with the kids. )
But. And this is a big but. One that some of you won’t agree on. That some of you will tell me “I don’t know I’m born” when my husband is at home we do the housework and the children together. My husband’s work hours are also my work hours. My solo parenting, his keeps a roof over our heads job. Both challenges in their own way. The rest of the time is overtime. For both of us. Nappies. Bedtime. Bathtime. Saturday playtime. Family events. The parenting is something we share. Yes I often get a much easier deal being stuck under a breastfeeding baby. (At least I can sit down for that. ) rather than running after an ever speedy toddler on his bike. Yes. My husband is exhausted. He works bloody hard. He trains hard. And he throws himself in to parenting. He is incredible in everything he does.
Yes, the toddler is hard work. Really hard work. But not bad. Not horrible. Not a brat. Just a curious little person in a very big world. A little person that thinks sitting down quietly for a 6 course meal is boring. A little person that is wowed by the beautiful flowers forming an archway and whines when he is told no, he can’t pick *those* flowers. A little person who has had enough of sitting still. Of being quiet. Enough of being told no. Enough of being told to behave because he dares to be heard as well as seen. I will not apologise for my child behaving like a child. I will not apologise for him blowing raspberries, and I will not apologise for the way my husband and I choose to parent.
One thing for sure though. We will not be going to another social event with the kids. It’s hard work for us, boring for them and apparently ruins everyone else’s day.
So right now as I sit here typing with my 18 week old on the boob and the toddler fast asleep in the middle of the bed, I will prod my asleep-since-10pm-husband and see if he would like to join the party. Because my poor poor husband was a parent today as well as a wedding guest, and right now he wants to sleep rather than get drunk and dance.
Ps: as I finally publish this, I’m sat in the back of the car, squished between two car seats, reasoning with the toddler (he wants more crisps) and holding baby’s hand. Come on kids. Only another 75 miles and we will be home. You’ve been so good for the last 180.
Travelling with kids. Also an absolute ballache.