my ac/bc life
… Not to be confused with my AC/DC life which really only applies when I have had too much to drink …
No need to elaborate.
two lives
Twice this afternoon, in the space of about half an hour, I removed one of the dog’s bones from the sofa. Nice. In my ‘BC’ days (that’s Before Child) finding a dog bone inside the house would have kinda grossed me out. Also, I would have wondered how it got there … Hubby wouldn’t have put it there and Toby the Wonderdog is not in the habit of bringing them inside.
Now, it’s barely a surprise. I am well aware of how it got there, I just shrug and chuck it back outside. But it got me thinking about how much, not only my life, but my attitudes, expectations and habits have change since Small Child arrived on the scene.
The thought hounded me as I vaccuumed the floor … with said Child in tow. A momentary aside: Child is obsessed with anything that goes around – washing machine, clothes dryer, fans – and of course we have a cyclonlic vaccuum cleaner. Hence, I have a shadow whenever I vaccuum.
Where was I? Oh right, vaccuuming the floor and thinking about the things that would have bothered me before this small person with a loud voice and penchant for repeating phrases came to live with us.
While I won’t say I was obsessive about the state of the house (probably far from it), I did have my routine and that suited me just fine. Before Small Child came along, spills on the carpet would piss me off; the dog was inside and awful lot for an “outside” dog; the house was always “reasonably” neat and tidy; I had always showered by bedtime.
Now, spills are a part of everyday life, and I’ll get to them when I fricken get there, okay? Not long ago, Hubby up-ended a big bowl of spaghetti bolognaise all over the carpet … all we could to was look at each other and laugh our heads off.
And then clean it up, obviously. We’re not pigs, you know.
Poor old Toby the Wonderdog (is there anything you can’t do? Running, jumping, making us laugh. Toby we love you!) doesn’t spend nearly as much time inside the house as he used to. The poor little hound gets terrorised. He’s chased around and has things thrown at him. It’s just easier to keep him outside, and he’d rather that too. It’s too loud inside!!
Nowadays, when I clean the house, I’m really happy when it’s still that way 20 minutes later. When that happens, I’m amazed!! I get the last job done, think to myself: “Yep, time for a coffee”. Turn around twice and it looks like Chechnya all over again. “Think I might make that an Irish Coffee.”
Some of the biggest changes can be seen in my expectations. BC, I’d be going on a major holiday twice a year. Now, I’d be thrilled if I could get a hour to go soak in the bath.
But don’t get me wrong, it’s not all bad. In fact, I wouldn’t change anything for the world. I like my life AC much better than BC. There’s still stress, but it’s not lose-your-job type of stress – coz Child’s hardly going to sack me, is he?
Is he?
There’s less freedom (financially and socially), but there’s also more freedom in an emotional and psychological sense. It is now perfectly okay for me to jump around and dance around like a dag to The Wiggles. Childless, it would be frowned upon, now it’s a given.
And that in itself is worth a lifetime of loud, crazy days, food spills and banana rubbed into the carpet. Nice. 
