Today (well, not today but on the day I started writing this blog post), as I toiled away spring cleaning the stove, a thought popped into my head. As per usual when these things happen, the thought nagged and refused to leave until I’d pressurized it and beaten it into oblivion with my mental broom.
The thought was, what do you do when you are married to someone whose ambitions have resulted in a marriage of lacklustre and neglect? You see, us millennials have risen to the daunting challenge of work, life and achieving balance with astonishing ferocity. The foundations and social structures of our society weren’t built on the premise of two people being ambitious in a marriage. It favored one (we all know which one) going out and making the bacon. Whether or not the had time to be a spouse of help with the rearing of children wasn’t really a consideration. But we have broken moulds and barriers. We demand more than dull, passing existences.
From the time my husband and I started dating, his professional path was something that I took honest consideration about, among other things. Not to be a brat, but as someone who was a student nurse myself once upon a time, I was intimately familiar with the curriculum, it’s demands and assumed (correctly) that students who study medicine had little time for much else.
I know this topic is discussed to death and there are opposing ideas on whether parents should put the children first in a marriage. I’m sure you can tell by the title of this post where my head is, but I would like to share my position and train of thought on a more in depth basis. Before you read this though:
I get this question a LOT. Partly due to the fact anyone who knows my husband or has been in any proximity to him knows his general demeanour and disposition. Of course, people who know mine are a little more sceptical that the answer to the question would be ‘no’, but even then sometimes, it proves hard for others to overlook my husband almost unbothered approach to most things. They still wonder if I ‘mellow out’ with him.
Going into marriage can be a scary thing. It’s life changing, after all. After signing those papers, you can never go back to being spinsters or bachelors if it doesn’t work out. Now, you’re divorcees. Most of us want to do it right the first time, and while my own marriage is still a fledgling in the grand scheme of things, I’d say I’ve learned a lot and and we’ve done pretty alright.
Her face scrunched as she expelled all the contents of her lungs. Her mouth wide, tears in her eyes, and the hanging, pink epiglottis danced violently at the back of her throat. Her stance said she was ready for war, but my mind said I was too as it raged and raced at the child before me. I understood her position, but I thought it no excuse. My temper flared. Hers sprouted wings and soared.
I posted a video on my Instagram teasing about a possible pregnancy some weeks ago. After a flurry of messages in my inbox, I came clean. I wasn’t (am not) pregnant at all. I’m under some duress from baby fever, but no, not pregnant.
Then ladies wanted to know why I looked like I was. My belly was still larger than a food baby. At one point during the day, my sister almost freaked out at how fast My abdomen was distending.
Hey there! I know I’ve been off the radar on my blog, but I’m just busy. I keep saying I should wait until I no longer am, but in all honesty, there’s not really an end in sight for that. Between my (almost) two year old putting me to work, general wifely (adulting) duties, working on the book (the book may be finished but the work isn’t) and a list of client projects stretching into October as of now, please believe me when I say, I can’t even remember if I’m wearing underwear today.