Let’s Hear It For The Boy.

by Lori Dwyer on September 20, 2013 · 12 comments

I can be such a selfish bitch sometimes. (And don’t we already know it…?)

Three weeks we’ve been in The New House in Melbourne. The focus has been entirely on the kidlets. Obviously, that’s not the selfish part- that’s the way it should be done. I get them settled, sorted, organised, into a new routine that’s better for all of us.

But once my children are settled, I slip into ‘me, me, me’ mode. Again, not surprising- humans are inherently self-involved creatures, with only our primal biology ensuring we sacrifice ourselves so completely to our children’s needs. Beyond that, self preservation is instinctual and difficult to see past.

This is what I tell myself, at least. Biological narcissism seems preferable over selfish tunnel-vision. The truth of the matter is that I’ve largely ignored the emotional state of The Most Amazing Man, while wallowing in my own pit of worry.

This has been- still is, actually- just as difficult for him as it has been for any of us. His hip, unencumbered single life in Melbourne has suddenly been hampered by this instant family he’s found himself with. Time to himself has become almost non-existent. Lazy weekend sleep-ins and Sunday brunches have been replaced by Saturday morning cartoons and overly-energetic children. A disposable income has been replaced by Centrelink forms. It’s a shock to the shadows of life. He expected it to be different, of course. But he’s really had no way to prepare himself for the reality of it.

And being the gentle, unassuming person he is, he’s doing such a remarkable job of being everything to all of us that I sometimes, selfishly, forget how much we have turned his life upside down.

He is just here, a constant, calming presence. He washes clothes and dishes. He cooks meals and picks up the slack of the house. He plays with my children, answers a hundred questions a day from them. And does it all in good humour, with patience and understanding. He never raises his voice. He takes it all in his stride.

Sometimes I even forget to say thank you. I forget to tell him that I am okay, that I feel supported here. That I appreciate everything he does.

So, a round of applause, if you will. Credit where credit is due.

The Most Amazing In The Universe just continues to be… well… amazing.