over’ pile because a woman waits for her man to ask?
We have mouths, don’t we? And brains? And guts? SO ASK!! Seriously, if you love him to bits and want to marry the guy then just ask him. He can always say no, but if you take courage from the tips below you should avoid having to tear your hair out or go undercover for a year:
Don’t over-rehearse. ‘Will you marry me’ is hard enough to say without laughing or crying, but too much practice can give a genuine request more of a daytime soap opera feel to it, and he’ll either laugh or cry, so that’s both of you in a state. Seize the moment, and go for it.
Say it slowly. Nervous words are always likely to come out in a bit of a rush, and sound more like ‘William Harry, me?’ or ‘Will your marrow mean?’ Neither is likely to get the response you are after.
If he says ‘No’ you have to find a dignified way of leaving the room which makes it look as though you are perfectly happy with the outcome, and were expecting it anyway—a kind of elegant ‘Am I bovvered?’ This is one good reason not to propose on a nine-hour flight. If you can also leave an air of ‘You are a complete shit and have just screwed up the rest of my life’, then so much the better. Then you can cry for a month and put on two stone due to excessive comfort-eating.
With all of this reassurance under your belt and your journey into Family Life begun, it’s time to enter the Family Home itself. No more hanging out in the draughty front porch—we’re ready to get into that entrance hall, muddy the carpet and have a good look around. You might not like all that you see, but there’s a stiff drink at the end for those who survive the trip. Onward!
PART THREE The Entrance Hall
You are now in a room of great activity: shoes coming off, coats going on, bags being thrown on the floor and keys being lost. This part of the house is where family life really kicks off: from deciding to start a family of your own, to finding out how this new lifestyle suits you both, and then dealing with some of the social and administrative sides of your lively gathering. There really is no backing out now.
When Two Become Three
Despite living together in married bliss (ahem!) for a number of years, one day you may both feel that there is something missing—something that would take your relationship to the next level and give you more to talk about again, other than what you did at work, what’s on the telly or whose turn it is to do the washing. So you decide to have a baby.
And there it is: the enormous, irreversible leap from Coupledom to Family Life. The minute you fix your roots by producing little pooing, vomiting, tantrum-throwing branches of your own, you shed your neat ‘Just-the-two-of-us’ way of life and get to wear a grubby, slightly squashed but very cosy ‘family’ hat instead.
Nobody ever tells you this—because it’s assumed you will be overcome with wonder at your new arrival and will spend six months floating on fluffy pink clouds of Family Joy—but suddenly having your very own family can be terrifying. There you were, eating take-aways, having sex in the kitchen, worrying whether you should invest your birthday money in an almost-affordable work of modern art or blow it all on a dirty weekend in Bath, and having marathon Lost-watching sessions accompanied by too many bottles of wine, when suddenly—Holy Shit!—you have a family. A real, live family complete with enormous won’t-go-away-if-I-close-my-eyes-and-think-of-something-else responsibilities, and financial constraints, and a baby, and a husband-who-is-also-a father, and a family car, and…can’t breathe, must get out…what’s happened to me? HELP!
Dellie, married six years, mother of Arthur, four, and Mary, eighteen months:
I have found the loss of independence since becoming a family very hard to adjust to. I love what I have more than anything in the world, but I do miss the life I had before sometimes, and wish I could be free again to muck about, travel and meet new people. I didn’t expect to feel this way, but it’s a compromise I’m happy to make.
OK, here’s some help:
Relax. This is a completely normal reaction to being made to grow up overnight, from overgrown child—albeit a child with an overdraft, a job and an impressive CD collection—into responsible parent. It can take years to wear the family badge with ease, so give it time, don’t run out of the door as soon as the panic sets in, and try to remember that what you have is a Good Thing. The sensation that you may have bitten off more than you can chew and are now choking on all the baby rice and family-size everything often doesn’t happen the moment your offspring squeezes itself into the delivery room, but creeps up on you over a number of months or years. Remember that you would be very unusual if you felt any of this transition phase was easy-peasy, and congratulate yourself on your healthy levels of uncertainty. Top marks so far.
Ease yourself in. If it all feels a bit too much too fast then give yourself a break and go back to something more familiar for a day or two. Go home to your parents for a weekend, go for a day out all by yourself or hang out with some good friends (who don’t have kids). You’ll soon remember that your whole life hasn’t changed after all, and you’ll be pining for the rest of your family before you know it.
Get ready to make mistakes. Like most works of art your family almost certainly won’t end up quite as you intended, but hopefully you will avoid making any irreversible gaffs that even Tipp-Ex can’t cover up. For everything else there is usually a way to smooth things over, and a secret credit-card-busting handbag obsession or even the hideous smudge of an infidelity can add something positive to the canvas if it ultimately brings you closer together.
Beg, borrow, or steal. The work you produce will be influenced to some degree by other struggling families you observe as you stumble along Family Lane. This is good—all the best artists nick stuff from people they admire, whether consciously or not. If you observe another family dealing with toddler tantrums better than you, then watch what they do and steal their technique. If you don’t seem to be coping with your work/life/soaks in the bath balance and know someone who seems to have it all under control, then ask how they do it. You’ll probably discover it’s all a front and they are struggling just as much as you are, but even that can be enough to cheer yourself up.
Talk. Not to your Mum, your friend or your cat. Talk to your partner—the person who is going through this weird transition with you, and tell him if you’re feeling apprehensive, lost or plain shit-scared about things. If he’s half the man he should be for you to have started a family with him, he won’t burn all your books, tear up your store cards or eat all your chocolate. He’ll help you, support you and give you a shoulder massage. He’s probably feeling exactly the same way anyway, but didn’t want to say so in case you thought he was getting cold feet already. Talking sorts it all out.
Best in Show: Keeping up appearances in public
If everybody in the world let on what was really going on in their heads, what mood they were in or how their family lives were running, it
