The Personal Space/Time Continuum

In those hedonistic times before baby C arrived on the scene, all my husband and I had to worry about was which one of us was going to have the worst hangover on a Saturday morning.   We would waste hours and hours of precious time just lounging around, watching trashy TV or doing something completely wild like getting up at about 8am.

When I look back at how productive we could have been I wince because although you’re told over and over and over again by well meaning individuals that you should ‘enjoy the time you have together before the baby arrives’ blah blah blah.  You smile, you laugh and you completely disregard what they are saying because you know better don’t you.  You know that the bond you share as husband and wife is strong and will survive the storms that parenting brings.

Let me tell you, your marriage vows mean fuck all when you’ve been up for 36 hours and you walk in to find your partner snoring.  At that moment you think ’til death do us part’ was a fucking instruction and it takes all the strength of will you can conjure up not to smother the wanker with his own damn pillow.

Now I breastfed C exclusively, so I would like to add that there was very little if anything that Rob could have done during those early days and that which is could do, he did….all of it.  He frequently took her out to give me a break and overall he’s a fantastic father.   He loves her company and will happily play on the floor with her even during the witching hour(s) before bedtime to take the heat off me.  But if theres one thing we will constantly bicker and argue over, its personal time, time to yourself, quiet time.   One of us always feels hard done by.

We view ‘quiet time’ very differently.  Personally I think of any time away from C as down time.  I would rather clean the sodding bathroom that spend one more minute listing to her bloody singing kitty sometimes.  My sister openly admitted she offered to clear her garden of dog shit from their Labrador, just to get away and do something not baby related.

The time he spends going to and from jobs in silence, god the luxury.  I consider it a good trip to Waitrose if we only have to have 8 rounds of The Wheels on the Bus (its a 5 min journey at worst) and one half arse tantrum stifled by anything from Goodies.  The disproportionately long bathroom breaks he’s taken to having, just so he can read the news on his phone oh the untold jealousy.   Hours upon hours of time listening to the radio at work or talking to friends, eating a sandwich all to himself, I literally cannot imagine how wonderful these things must be.  Yesterday I went to the bathroom twice, yes only twice and I had an audience for both visits – we don’t make eye contact for what its worth but thats not much.

I do understand he also needs a break from the day to day grind, Im not ignorant enough to forget what it was like to work normal 9-5 hours, but my job isn’t 9-5, its 6 am till whenever the fuck C feels like calling it quits for a few hours.  She’s still waking during the night regularly and although she doesn’t need me to go to her most of the time, its still disturbing and I never get more than 3 hours sleep at any one time.  Im so far past exhausted that I had to explain to my hairdresser that it wasn’t smokey eye make up I was sporting, thats just the way I look now and no I haven’t been unwell……just cut my fucking hair, Im not giving you half of this months mortgage so you can insult me – I could get that for free at home, anyway I digress.

So I feel like I never get a break from ‘work’ because well, as the main caregiver you just don’t, you’re always at work aren’t you.  Rob feels like I never cut him any slack and make a big deal out of it if he wants to read the damn paper because he doesn’t understand that I haven’t read the paper for a year and he’s only just beginning to grasp that writing these posts is like free therapy, which he should be grateful for as I could be costing him a shit tonne in psych fees if I put my mind to it – pun intended.

We’re both wrong and yet still stubbornly refuse to see the other persons point of view.

I know other couples struggle with this, this conversation has been hashed out the world over.  When the baby arrives home you are on Cloud 9, you look dreamily into each others eyes and marvel at the life you’ve managed to create, you hold hands and feel like you are better than everyone else thats ever lived.  Those moments still happen, they really do, not over a sea of toys, wooden blocks and half chewed rice cakes which you are fucking INCESSANTLY picking off your socks but more late at night when you finally have a second to look at the other half of your marriage and remind yourself that you don’t actually hate them all the time, just before you start bickering over who gets to have the first lie in and why ‘oh my God, do you have to be such a dick about it, Jesus Christ…..Ive had the shittest week, its clearly your turn……!!!’

If you’ve been through this battle of the wills Id love to know how you came out the other side (see my eternal optimism here), what finally helped you strike the balance and stop fantasising about stuffing the latest dirty offering your child has created into their mouth. Im open to all suggestions and Ill be making notes.

Love

Tasha