Too Damn Freaking Hard

My mum asked me once, “Do you know what the most important relationship is, when you have a child?” I said, “The one with your child?” She said, “No, the one with your husband.”

She also told me not to wait until I was married to have sex, or I’d be sorely disappointed. But that is neither here nor there.

I guess in theory it sounds right (the relationship thing, not the sex thing), but it’s much harder to actually do than to say. It’s hard to feel sexy with a newborn hanging off your breast 20 hours a day. And after all the feeding, bathing, nappying, that goes on throughout the day, who has the energy for anything other than the 2 hours of sleep you know you might get before the newborn wakes up again?

It should get better once they’re toddlers, but then you think you can go back to work. Or, financially, you’re forced back to work. Now you have an employer who wants you all day, a toddler who wants you all morning and evening, and then when the world is quiet and you just want a coffee and good TV show, your husband wants you.

And just for good measure, let’s throw in all the other random curve balls the universe throws your way, like losing loved ones and the emotional toll that takes. I’ve decided it is just too damn freaking hard to be an adult. Too damn freaking hard to be a wife/mother/friend/employee.

It’s easy to see why people drift apart.


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