The Honeymoon is Over

I don't know if you've noticed but there are a lot of pretty tired people walking around of late. I would argue that the predominant group of tired people falls in the category of anyone with a child under seven.

This year with a return to school our children have been hit with a cocktail of viruses that should only really take place during the End Days. I'm talking about fountains of snot and vomit as far as the eyes can see. I'm taking Vaseline drenched 'bum sweets' administered to shaking babies in the early hours of the morning. I'm talking emergency trips to the ER with dehydrated six year olds. My immediate circle of family and friends have seen it all of late. Last night, for example, a work colleague, my sister-in-law and I were doing conference calls at 22:00 to gauge the treatment of a vomiting, fevered 14 month year old. 

Talking about the End Days I recon Revelations should mention Calpol and tepid baths at least nine times. John (the author) was clearly living on an island far away from the normality of family life when he wrote his book because he doesn't mention Pediatric Iliadin once. 

One of the major side effects of parenting in general, but specifically during a pandemic, is the toll it takes on marriages. Parenting small children is hard (translate to kak) at the best of times but when every fever could potentially be the dreaded CV (translate to Corona Virus) being married comes a firm last to all other worries. And good luck to you if you're planning on expanding your family during this time (I am firmly not in this particular team) but finding enough energy to take off a bra seductively is asking for a little too much. (Laughs to herself). Who am I fooling? None of us are wearing bras anymore.

At this point in time Stephen and my dream day includes children eating everything in their lunchboxes, children playing peacefully in the afternoon with only seven episodes of Peppa Pig and three of Inbestigators watched between them (I would add that asking for fights not to break out between who gets to watch what on TV would be ideal but I suspect that would be akin to trying to solve the Palestinian crisis in a day). If kids have eaten my carefully prepared dinners, bathed with out tantrums about shampoo in eyes and have gone to sleep only needing two books read then we are winning everything in life. We reward ourselves with an episode of Masterchef Australia and if we’re feeling reckless and daring maybe an episode of Modern Family. But that’s only for days if I’ve managed to have a ten minute nap. And then we sleep until the baby monitor crackles on with the sound of whimpering and gives us our daily dose of anxiety disorder. And then at six our alarms go off, we hit snooze for ten minutes and then we start all over again. 

I feel remarkably sorry for people who fall pregnant on honeymoon because one really needs a solid bank of happy marriage memories to rely on when reserves run short at two in the morning when the bed has been wet, again. Those first years of marriage for me are like my blueprint for retirement- in my mind it’s a honeymoon with wrinkles. And Stephen and I find endless joy in planning the various possibilities for our twilight years - from warm, sunny cottages in the Berg to teaching English in the East - we pick a dream according to our mood. And a book is always somewhere on the list - let’s just say it is gently germinating.

In short I think we need to be gentle with ourselves and our spouses. If we can get through this chapter in our lives with a few laughs, glorious moments with our babies and with some money left in our medical aid savings at the end of every month  then we are doing well. Make the time to giggle, share a date night, comment on an outfit, cuddle and all will be well. The honeymoon may be over for now but just remember that it will return - older, mellower and greyer and hopefully with some snotty grandchildren in tow.