When I had my son, I was lucky enough to also obtain an on-call chauffeur to my household staff. Actually, the driver is the sole person comprising the household staff. Either way, it’s really nice being able to hangout out chatting with Gus in the backseat and then, VOILA! just show up at our destination.
Every once and a while, though, our driver listens to Dave Matthews or old Linkin Park too loudly, and Gus and I (and Sophie the giraffe) roll our eyes and Rock Paper Scissors to determine which of us have to tell the driver we prefer his transportation services to his DJ-ing. Then, we giggle in the back and keep playing the “crazy faces that will give mom lots of wrinkles before she is 30” game, and our nice chauffeur just keeps driving.
Brian probably doesn’t really like when I call him our driver.
…but I’m so grateful to have a husband that will let ME take the backseat! I do still spend time with him as my husband, although I have noticed I rarely post pictures with/of him these days. I now understand how easy it is to slip into mom mode and not recover. I underestimated the difficulty of balancing my different roles! It’s tough to transition between being an attentive mommy, who cares about nothing but lying on the floor playing with her baby, and a wife, who wants to have enough energy to try to be a beautiful, interesting conversationalist with her husband…preferably not sprawled on the kitchen floor, preferably showered, preferably speaking a few octaves lower. Throw going to work into the mix, and sheesh.
This is how identity crises happen.
Brian and I DO still go out, and although I am a horrible picture-taker, here are at least three examples of proof. He is the kindest, most patient husband to me, and I appreciate HIM taking the backseat sometimes as I’m figuring this all out. Here’s to continuing to date through parenthood, and having toys picked up when husbands come home. (I make no mention of dinner being ready.)
Note to self: Be better at Brian documentation.