But sooner or later, the dust settles and the countries are left to live with the turmoil on their own.
That is what bringing home a baby is like. That small bundle of “joy” is like a mini natural disaster in your own home.
And every comes to help…
But eventually after a week or so the dust settles, the visitors die down, the in laws go back home and your man goes back to work.
And your left with a tiny natural disaster the size of a football wrapped up in a fluffy blanket.
And despite the roaring, protective, passionate love that vibrates through you for your little disaster, your life is left in turmoil.
The relentlessness. Is. Overwhelming.
And for the very first time, your partner in crime, the Clide to your Bonnie, your best mate, lover boy doesn’t understand. Your little journeys were separated the baby came out and spilt your roles in half.
And out of nowhere enters a competition that you never signed up for, who’s life is harder, the one who goes to work all day? Or the one who cares for the little fluffy football disaster zone?
I am amazed that any couples survive, I am in awe of women who spend an entire day with a screening football who’s welfare is so important to them that a simple baby spew can trigger an unbearable anxiety attack.
I am amazed by the men that go to work all day while exhausted and come home to a crying wife and screaming baby yet still remain patient and loving.
Aren’t we all just doing such a good job? And in such a lonely time isn’t it nice to know that we are far from alone?