Some things we argue about

I take the kids for the day so that he can off cross all the things on the DIY-list that's been hanging on the family notice-board for as long as I can remember.
When I come back, hours and hours later, it's all done, every single thing, but one of the shelves that he's hung isn't straight and of course, that's the first thing I comment on.
- It looks bad. We need to re-do it.
- We? he says. I don't have any more screws, I used them all.
- Great. It's never gonna get done, is it?
He storms off, angry that I haven't mentioned all the other things that he did, and did right. I'm angry because everything in my house looks like it lives in the Leaning Tower of Pisa.

The things we do for love

There are about a thousand different reasons for why you shouldn't have children, all of them very good (I can think of only one good reason for why you should have them: they will be the biggest loves of your life, but that's a different matter). One such reason is: it f***s up your relationship!
I never thought two people in love could argue as much as me and my husband does since we decided to go down the baby-road, but there we are, screaming and shouting blue murder at each other and jumping at the chance of criticising each other, and poking each other and being as goddamn bloody disrespectful as we can possibly be, and all, because of our children.

And it's all because of that old cliche that having children will change your life forever.
Oh, it certainly will. You will no longer have more time to yourself than you know what to do with. You will never be able to be 100% spontaneous again. Your lie-ins will decrease dramatically and your love-life will take a hit. You won't be able to be fun and adventurous anymore.
All of you who have children knows that this isn't exactly true. You can still sleep in late on a Saturday. You can still steel and hour or two to go shopping, or have a coffee or what ever it is that you like to do, your love-life isn't gone for ever and technically, you can, should that be your thing, go trekking in the Himalayas or scuba-dive in the Maldives, because we all know: life does not end when you have kids.
It does, however, make it so much more difficult, and that's where the arguing enters the picture.

We have gone from being easy-going, fun-loving, laid-back, chilled out people to being constantly tetchy and irritated and ll because we have to manage our time and ourselves in such a strict way that it seems to take all the fun out of being alive. It's true, if you scratch under the surface of almost every single argument we have, Time is the number one reason for most of them. We simply don't have enough of it, and the little we have, we are pretty damn unlikely to share. So, while before, we were full of respect and eager to please each other, we have now transformed in to very selfish human beings.

I mean, who's turn is it to go for a run this Sunday? Who's turn is it to go out to dinner with friends? Who's turn is it to sleep an extra hour, and who's turn is it to read the whole Sunday newspaper undisturbed? That's often the extent of our arguments.
All thanks to our two lovely little children who we love and cherish and would like to bring up together, as a couple, not as separated ex's.

Playdates are fun

So one of the many things required of a mother is the ability to schedule play-dates. A mother should also be able to supervise these play-dates, and make them fun, exciting and engaging. She should carry a wide portfolio of baking, science and art activities, and she should also be able to make a variety of lovely foods for picky eaters and mediate to avoid conflicts between two or more tantrum-prone parties.
And even though you didn't sign up for it it comes with the job whether you want to or not.

Because the fact is: men very rarely organize the play-dates. They don't have to sit around endless gatherings with the other mommies and talk about pre-school enrollment and baby yoga while the kids throw sand and hit each other with pink shovels in the sand-pit.

My husband had a go at it once. He met another father at a birthday party, the two started talking, Kate was friends with the girl from school, and just like that, they went to the playground after the party and it wasn't a bad date at all. But Kate wanted more, and nagged and nagged for another play-date, until I subtly had to hint (hit him over the head to wake up, more like it) that maybe could he call the girls father for another date?
- Why can't you do it?
- Because it's your thing. I have all the other things.
Big sigh and lot's of huffing.
- But I don't have time to call him.
- Look, I say. It's your play-date, you started it. I do all the dates with the mothers, for once, here's a dad, and you should be the one going on the date. You will have things to talk about.

I can see it will turn in to a thing.
Kate storms off, muttering something about how she'll never get to play with this girl again.
- But I don't have time to call him. Maybe I'll call him tonight.
- That's all good and well, only a play-date is usually during the day, and tonight you'll have missed your window.
- OK. I'll go. But you you just at least call him and set it up.
- No!

The thing is, it's not about my husband being lazy or not wanting his children to have friends. This is just very new territory for him, and he doesn't know what to do. He can do many things, but he can't spontaneously arrange a play-date.
But guess what. Neither could I before I turned a mother. I just had to learn.
That's it. Most of the things about parenthood is just trial and error.

Some things we argue about

In the middle of the night. I wake of up from Leo crying, not my husband. Always. He's a deep sleeper. Sometimes I kick him in the back until he wakes up, and then pretends to be sleeping when he comes to his senses. Just to even it out a bit. He can go back to sleep. I can't.
Last night there was no point. I was wide awake and might as well roll out of bed and in to Leo's room. He doesn't have a night-light, so it's dark, and I trip over something on the floor, and end up hurting both my toe, and my shin.
After settling Leo, I crawl back in to bed. My husband is now miraculously awake.
- Is he OK? he asks.
- Uh huh.
...
- And next time you out him to bed can you make sure to tidy away the f***** toys on the floor.
That does it. We're both wide awake, arguing like mad, at 2.30 in the morning.