Marriage is hard. So hard. I struggle to be a good wife. Truth be told, I don't even know what the term "a good wife" means. Does it mean a good housekeeper? If so, I am fucked. If it means a good cook, again, I am screwed.
If being "a good wife" means being independent and self absorbed, I am golden.
My childhood provided me little to model myself on. My mom and dad fought loud, hard and often and if you drove by our house in Ontario, you would often see red and blue lights swirling in front of our house to signal our dysfunction to the neighbors. Plus, on the housekeeping front, my dad cooked and the house was a mess.
If I compare Adrian and myself to my mom and dad we probably come out well in the wash. I rarely scream and yell and we try not to let our arguments turn to fights.
Most days, I am just trying to keep my head afloat. It is all I can do to deal with Adrian, the two moms, our three dogs, my job as a public defender and my mandatory workout regime. Lately, I have been selfish I admit. I have to be. Being unselfish and giving it all at work and home resulted in me gaining one hundred pounds. I have lost most of that weight and look fabulous (note: humility has never been my strength).
If I have the choose between being a happy fat wife or a trim and healthy divorcee, I will choose being the divorcee. But the questions is, does it really have to come to that? I think not, but who knows?
Truth be told, there is no one else in the world for me. But, sometimes, I think Adrian would be happier with someone else. He says no but there are times when I think yes, Yet, if Adrian is masochistic enough to want to put up with me and my crazy family, then who am I to stop him?
It may be a cliche, but it is truth to say that marriage is full of hills and valleys. The last weeks have been hills if hills are rough and valleys are smooth (I can never quite figure out that analogy) but yesterday Adrian looked at me with tenderness in his eyes as opposed to annoyance and I could see the valley emerging.