I started this week feeling pretty mad with my beans. Yep, I was angry with my two and a half year old daughters.
Why?!?! I hear you all shout in pure anticipation…well, because they clearly love their dad much more than they love me.
I have the purple angry mother-fucking stretch marks; I was the one who couldn’t drink for a year and spewed up outside every single fucking supermarket, so they should love me the most. Right?!
(Wow. Seeing that in writing really highlights how needy I am! Anyway…my insecurities aside…)
I guess you’d have to be there to know what I mean. Picture me and the husband in a room with the beans; they would always rather be under his arm or playing games with him. To the point that the little bitches actually push me away!! Seriously! The sass is unbelievable.
Don’t get me wrong, they want their mummy sometimes – mostly when they’re sad or unwell. I also have created ‘the bean song’ that has a 99.9 per cent success rate of calming them down. But, I’m not the parent they want to have fun with or choose to cuddle.
They’ve even started asking their dad to put them to bed and tuck them in. I’ve always done that, from day one, and it’s pretty fucking heart breaking knowing they want their dad to do it instead. Although having said that, it’s better their dad then, I don’t know, like a neighbour or something.
Now don’t get me wrong, the husband is an amazing dad. Honestly he is from the top draw. He loves them so much that you can almost see it pouring out of his body when he walks in the room. I couldn’t wish for a better dad for them. He is amazingly caring, loving, nurturing and protective. But that doesn’t stop my outrageous jealousy.
But then it happened, whilst chatting shit with my own mother bear, I had an epiphany. Kids have a higher expectation of their mum then they do their dad and therefore generally take their mum for granted.
Example, if my mum did my weekly food shop and then cooked me dinner I would give her a kiss and say thank you. If my dad did that, I’d probably faint from shock! My dad is amazing and I love the bones of him, but I don’t actually expect anything from him. My mum on the other hand, I totally do.
DISCLAIMER: Not at all bad mouthing the husband. I have bought every item of clothing and footwear the beans have ever worn; I do 95% of their washing and change their bed sheets. I cook their food, pay their nursery bill and buy their nappies. I book their doctors appointments, research the schools they could go to and keep their shit tidy. Their dad would totally do it if I asked, but it’s my instinct.
Also, I want to do it. In some kind of sick way I get pleasure from it. I work four days a week and they’re generally pretty long days, sometimes I’m not home for bed time. I socialise some weekends which means spending the night with my friends. In brief, I’m not always at home which makes me feel shit. I thought this was why the beans had fallen a little bit out of love with me…and maybe it is…but that is why I enjoy doing whatever I can for them.
I’m now in the mind-set of letting their dad have them when he can. Yep, that is a bit arrogant. I am hoping that as they get a little older (long before their periods and boobies start to kick in) they’ll begin to realise what side their bread is buttered. Sure, poppa bear is a laugh and will swing you in the air but do you really want him cooking your dinner, french plaiting your hair, talking about sex and buying your clothes or tampons???? Cos…I’m guessing not.
The beans expect more of me. I expect more of me. I’ll pay that price now and play the long game. They’ll come back to me. Sorry husband, but you’re on borrowed time. The beans will love me more (insert evil laugh).