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I saw a post the other day that just hit a nerve with me. It was all about how, as wives, we shouldn’t expect our husbands to help out at home with chores or with kids, how we shouldn’t bother him with our troubles or struggles (because he has enough on his shoulders just by providing for his family), and how we didn’t marry him to help, we married him to provide and protect us.
Well ladies, I’m calling bullshit!
If that’s how you want to live your life and it makes you and your marriage happy, then please by all means do it, but don’t be telling me I need to be waiting for my husband with a silver tray and a nice back rub because well, it ain’t happening. This is not the 1950s anymore, and I’m not someone’s f****** maid, I am someone’s wife and partner.
“But he works so hard during the day.”
What the hell do you think I do?? Have you met my four kids? I assure you it is not a walk in the park taking care of four children who, lets be real, act like feral little creatures sometimes. I mean, yea, I do my best to clean throughout the day, but it’s kinda hard when you have the Three Stooges plus a baby living in your house.
“Don’t you want to see him happy?”
Um he’s married to me and chose to have four kids…you don’t decide something like that unless you are in love and happy with the other person.
The whole expectations thing was bull. I mean–he expects me to keep our children alive during the day, he expects me to feed them at least once, make sure they have changed their clothes they’ve probably been wearing three days in a row, and he expects me to keep the house from burning down, flooding, or crumbling from the constant pounding of little feet. So yea, I expect him to help when he can with housework and I expect him to help with the kids when he is home.
Now let’s jump ahead to the whole ‘I married him to provide for me and to protect me.’ I’m sorry, but I can do that myself. We were 19/20 when we got married, and financially we had nothing, so that is not the reason I married him. I married him because I had such a deep love for him that has only grown deeper as we have grown older. I married him so that I would always have someone to laugh with. Someone who would be by my side for all the ups and downs of life, and someone to start a family with. My parents raised a strong woman, so I am more than capable of providing for myself.
The whole point of this little rant of mine is that I’m not his f****** maid, or cook, or baby maker. I am his wife and his partner. I don’t stand eager to please him the second he comes home. Instead, I stand eager with a baby and 3 other kids clinging to me, ready to pass them to him; like the passing of a baton in an Olympic relay. I will bother him with my frustrations of the day, because I know that he will be there listening…well selectively listening.
There are expectations in marriage. I will always expect him to help out at home; he eats and sleeps here after all. If I recall correctly he enjoyed making the children, so yea, I’m going to expect that he helps care for them. I’m also, until told otherwise, going to expect that he loves me. You know what, though, I know he will always expect things from me. He’s going to expect that I care for the children while I’m home. That I help with the house chores, and that I love him as much as he loves me. What he doesn’t do is expect me to wait on him hand and foot. He doesn’t expect me to place him on some superficial pedestal and be at his beck and call.
When it comes down to it, our marriage is a partnership. We have literally grown up together, and we rely on each other to help where it’s needed, to love always, and to lift each other up when one is feeling down. That post I saw, the one that sent me on a crazy ranting spree, would say my marriage is unsuccessful. Well I say screw that. I know that my marriage, although not perfect, is strong, real, and raw. I know that I can count on him, and he can count on me. He doesn’t view me as his maid or his cook, he views me as the woman who gave him four children. The girl he fell for at 16. The person who will be with him through thick and thin till he’s a grumpy old man yelling an the young kids to get off his lawn.
So yea we have expectations in our marriage. We ask for help from each other. We rant and ramble to each other. I’m not waiting around in heels and pearls holding a bourbon for him as he enters the house from a long day at work. I’m actually probably drinking a glass of wine, eating twinkies, wearing yoga pants and a tank top, while the kids sprint across the house to greet him. I’ll hand him the baby that he hasn’t seen all day, give him a juicy smooch, smack him on the ass, and then go pass out on the bed. Motherhood is hard y’all, parenthood is hard, and, hell, sustaining a marriage is hard. It takes a united team. No his or her jobs. Just expectations that the other will help when they see the other may be struggling trying to keep the house from being set on fire by the pyromaniacs that live there.
At the end of the day, when we pass out at 8:30 because we adulted so hard, I know there is nobody else I’d rather wake up with to do it all again. I love my husband something fierce, and nobody’s unrealistic idea of what a marriage should be is going to change that. So ladies, go smack his ass, give him a kiss, and pour yourselves a glass of something strong, because your partnership, your marriage, deserves it.
Love hard, love true, and love the Hotmess life you’ve created together.
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