What do you do when you’re stuck between a rock and a hard place? What is between a rock and a hard place anyway? Surely right now at this very second I am stuck exactly there: being inside doesn’t that make me stuck between four hard places unless two of my hard places/rocks/walls fall down only leaving me two that is…
Whatever these rocks and hard places are the bit in the middle, the between, is far from a comfy place. There’s not even a nice chair to sit in while I ponder the rock to my left and the hard place to my right.
My rock is this: I want to be with Beans. I long to be with Beans. Just me and her, Beans and mummy, being silly and having cuddles and trying not to shout when I’m on my 3819 repetition of ‘NO!’.
My hard place is the husband. Hang on, hang on, minds back out of the gutter please. There’ll be none of that here thank you. Even if the husband is a hard place there is no way I have the energy or the inclination to, erm, soften him up.
Back to the point.
The husband is what enables me to spend time with Beans. If he’s not there, either properly immediately there in the room or somewhere he is easily accessible I panic. At least I think I panic, I certainly did last time I played stay at home mum all by myself like a big girl.
But the obvious side effect of him being there is that, well, he’s there. So I don’t have to do everything. He picks up the slack, takes his turn with the evil things that routinely fill Beans nappy at 10:30am every day, threatening to leak out of the sides and kill everything in its path.
Some days I feel as though I’ve hardly done anything. Beans has mummy and daddy, she bounces between us all day and we share the load.
I’m selfish, she’s mine. I want her all to myself and I want it now.
But at the same time I really don’t know if I will cope and whether I will be on my knees wailing for him to ‘come hoooooome’ after thirty seconds.
So welcome to my hard place, if you’re passing please bring me a comfy chair and a flask of tea so I can make myself at home a little.