I have a confession to make and it goes something like this….I am jealous of my husband. There! I have said it! Now, don’t get me wrong, I am not jealous of the fact that he gets to wear nice clothes every day for work (minus the covering of unexplained sticky substances). I am not jealous of the fact that he gets to go out to the ‘adult’ world everyday and embrace ‘adult’ conversations and nor, am I really jealous much of the fact that he gets to enjoy a full cup of coffee in peace without being tugged down to floor level to play with cars. No! What I am honestly jealous about is my husband’s relationship with my son.
Day in day out I am the primary caregiver for our little man and I wouldn’t change that for the world, although I am not going to lie and will admit that a few weeks off here and there wouldn’t go amiss. Still, I digress. The truth of the matter is that each day I get up and undertake all as many (as feasibly possible) of the tasks that are on my ‘to-do’ list as a Mum, with the odd curveball last minute project thrown in for good measure too of course. There are meals of breakfast, lunch and dinner to be made and a myriad of ‘on demand’ snacks in between time. There are the daily battles undertaken when getting dressed, not hitting the dog, packing up toys {before we break our necks trying to navigate our way from one room to the next}, and getting out of the door within a set timeframe. There are wees, poos and snotty noses to be wiped and cleaned up and, what feels like, a mountain of crusty washing to overcome. And then of course there is the daily activities to plan as, heaven forbid that there is a spare moment in the day where we may actually…..I don’t know, sit down and relax! So there are parks, libraries, swimming centres, indoor jungle gyms, playgrounds and more parks *yawn* to visit.
Now before everyone jumps on the ‘it’s your choice to stay at home’ bandwagon, please understand that this is totally my choice and something that I feel fortunate to be able to do, and, besides, that is not the point that I am making here. The point that I am making is that everyday I am the primary caregiver to a little employer who has high expectations and a lot of demands. To him I am a constant. I am a chef, a disciplinarian, a cleaner and a taxi service. Putting things into perspective of course, and listening to the logical side of my brain, I totally understand therefore that my constant presence means that I am not (and unlikely ever will be) the ‘novelty’ that is the superhero that arrives through the door every night. Does this fact stop me from feeling slight pangs of jealousy however as the superhero is greeted with excitement, giggles, and chatter? Does it stop me from looking on feeling somewhat of an outsider to their little ‘boys club’ as I am dismissed from playing duties and instead banished to watch on the couch? No! In all honesty it doesn’t!