I got married relatively late, compared to those of my friends who got married directly out of, or during, university. And so, I got used to hearing gushing stories of married life, and amazing husbands.
Quite quickly, though, the dreamy eyed bliss with which they spoke of their new state turned into frustration over things like dirty socks - which seemed to pop up everywhere; or boxers - which never seemed to be actually IN the laundry basket; or wet towels on clean beds; or hair -- "Why must they be so hairy?!" - littering the bottom of the tub.
I would nod in sympathy, agreeing that it must be extremely frustrating and occasionally disgusting, and hope that the new husband would eventually learn to be a little more tidy, if only for the sake of peace in the marriage.
As I was wandering about tidying the flat the other day, pulling out socks from under the bed and boxers from under the chair in our bedroom, and then had to spray down the bathtub before actually having a shower, I realized that I wasn't really that bothered by it all. In fact, it's not even something I think twice about.
Let me assure you - this is not because I am particularly virtuous or easygoing. Oh no. I wish. Rather, I think it is a side effect of having grown up in a big family.
In a big family, you become used to being inconvenienced by others. Your space - if you have any - is constantly infringed upon. Your clothing - if you have sisters - is frequently "borrowed," possibly never to be seen again. You become used to picking up after little ones who might be on the fifth outfit change of the day, because they have decided to be superman instead of a bear.
When you walk into the bathroom to take a shower, you might have to clear it of rubber ducks first. Or there might be vomity towels in there that need to be hauled to the washing machine, because they were thrown in the tub during the night by an exhausted parent who was to tired to do anything else, and too much needed by the vomiting child(ren).
You learn to deal with the messiness and chaos and inconvenience of living with others, and to simply take it in stride. If you didn't, you would go insane.
So, while I might be vaguely grossed out by the blanket of hair coating the bathtub, I just rinse it out. And while picking up dirty boxers is not my greatest joy in life, I don't like seeing them hanging around, so I chuck them in the laundry basket. Therefore, among the many, many (many) things we DO argue about, socks, boxers, and hairy tubs are not on that list.
Again - this is not because I am a particularly awesome and patient wife. No way. But acting in such a way is simply an extension of the skills I gained, having grown up surrounded by grubby, messy, inconvenient little people.
For that, I am supremely grateful.
Quite quickly, though, the dreamy eyed bliss with which they spoke of their new state turned into frustration over things like dirty socks - which seemed to pop up everywhere; or boxers - which never seemed to be actually IN the laundry basket; or wet towels on clean beds; or hair -- "Why must they be so hairy?!" - littering the bottom of the tub.
I would nod in sympathy, agreeing that it must be extremely frustrating and occasionally disgusting, and hope that the new husband would eventually learn to be a little more tidy, if only for the sake of peace in the marriage.
As I was wandering about tidying the flat the other day, pulling out socks from under the bed and boxers from under the chair in our bedroom, and then had to spray down the bathtub before actually having a shower, I realized that I wasn't really that bothered by it all. In fact, it's not even something I think twice about.
Let me assure you - this is not because I am particularly virtuous or easygoing. Oh no. I wish. Rather, I think it is a side effect of having grown up in a big family.
In a big family, you become used to being inconvenienced by others. Your space - if you have any - is constantly infringed upon. Your clothing - if you have sisters - is frequently "borrowed," possibly never to be seen again. You become used to picking up after little ones who might be on the fifth outfit change of the day, because they have decided to be superman instead of a bear.
When you walk into the bathroom to take a shower, you might have to clear it of rubber ducks first. Or there might be vomity towels in there that need to be hauled to the washing machine, because they were thrown in the tub during the night by an exhausted parent who was to tired to do anything else, and too much needed by the vomiting child(ren).
You learn to deal with the messiness and chaos and inconvenience of living with others, and to simply take it in stride. If you didn't, you would go insane.
So, while I might be vaguely grossed out by the blanket of hair coating the bathtub, I just rinse it out. And while picking up dirty boxers is not my greatest joy in life, I don't like seeing them hanging around, so I chuck them in the laundry basket. Therefore, among the many, many (many) things we DO argue about, socks, boxers, and hairy tubs are not on that list.
Again - this is not because I am a particularly awesome and patient wife. No way. But acting in such a way is simply an extension of the skills I gained, having grown up surrounded by grubby, messy, inconvenient little people.
For that, I am supremely grateful.
Hahahahah!! That was tremendous. Apropos the vomity towels. Last week John came running out of the bathroom, his partially pulled up pants wet all around the bottom. He looked rather bewildered as he stammered that the toilet had overflowed. I quickly ran in and threw down every towel in order to soak up the mess. I then had to continue getting dinner, only to discover the mouldering towels again at bedtime when Daddy went in to get ready for bed. Sigh. I think everyone else in the house just used another bathroom when they looked in and saw the mess:) Large families rid one of squeemishness.
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