I’m still getting used to the idea of being called a ‘wife’, let alone a ‘wife-in-progress’, which feels as though, at some point, I will earn the title of ‘successful wife’ or ‘accomplished wife’ or ‘master wife’ and own a black belt in marital bliss. If only!
After all, what is a ‘master wife’? Does she wake up hours before her husband to prepare breakfast in bed every morning, with an annoyingly broad smile slapped across her face? Does she promise, dutifully, to raise three adoring children and to always have dinner ready on time and to always have the shirts ironed and the socks folded into matching pairs? I’m not so sure.
Me? I think a ‘master wife’ is a little crazy and, more often than she’d care to admit, hormonal – because guess what? She’s real. She’s driven and ambitious, which means she sometimes forgets to be home in time to help with dinner. She’s fiery and opinionated and passionate – great for the bedroom, not so great for when he says something that totally pisses her off (she’s not the kind of girl to just let things slide).
She’s got her own life and, though she’s busy moulding it into a shared life with her husband, she’s strong-willed enough not lose her sense of self. Which also means she sometimes isn’t home for evenings on end because she’s got drinks or a work thing or yoga (or all three.) She knows her husband well enough to know what makes him smile, which also means she knows him well enough to challenge him and disagree with him and tell him to grow up and get off his ass (when he needs a little prodding). She’s his biggest supporter and his biggest challenger. And that’s exactly the kind of master wife this wife-in-progress is planning to be.
So far in our two whole weeks of marriage (it already feels like longer), Etienne has discovered that I don’t do his laundry or iron his shirts. I have yet to be home in time to help cook dinner, and when I am home, I mistakenly end up inviting a friend (or few) home with me, too. Does that irk my new husband? Totally. On the other hand, I’m not needy or boring. I’m bringing home good money. And when we do sit down to chat after a long week, we both have so much to say for ourselves. We both have lives.
So as we negotiate this first year of marriage (which pretty much all my married friends tell me can be the best and the worst, the trickiest and the most rewarding), I can’t promise – nor do I really want to promise – to ace being a domestic goddess, or to make Etienne my absolute, number-one priority all of the time.
What am I aiming for, as a wife-in-progress? To find the right balance between me and him and us. To be as honest about everything as I possibly can (heck, if those socks lying on the floor could wind up in a divorce 10 years down the track, let’s talk about it now!). To keep sight of myself and what I want, all the while acknowledging and respecting who he is and what he wants. Sounds easy, right? Yeah right!
So I invite you to journey with me as I document my new venture as a wife in progress; as I negotiate money and a shared home and children (please God not yet!) and careers and life, all as a married woman. Let’s start with this – what I’ve already learnt in my first two weeks of marriage: it’s good not to invite friends over for a mini-party without running it past your husband first. Particularly if you all rock up and he’s in his pyjamas, bleary-eyed from being woken up three hours after you promised you would be ‘Home in 10’.
Oh, and another thing: get really good at sucking it up and saying sorry – and meaning it – when you have screwed up. It makes everything easier. (I’m still working on this one… I’ll keep you posted on my progress.)
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