Let me start by saying that I love my wife dearly and have no doubt that she is going to be an incredible mother. However the other day, I caught a worrying and surprisingly-strict glimpse into her future mothering style which, I must admit, frightened me to the core.
Picture the scene…
‘Twas a dark, wet and blustery night; one of those horrible stormy evenings in late-Spring where the rain doesn’t fall from above but rather hits you sideways, rendering any umbrella about as effective as a chocolate teapot.
Needless to say, after struggling home in the rain from a work event, dressed to the nines in my best suit, by the time I made it to our front door, I and my suit were soaked through.
“You’re soaking wet!” she exclaimed in an overtly mothering tone. “Stand over there. Don’t move, I’ll be right back!”
Slightly surprised by her strict reaction, but ever the dutiful husband, I did as instructed. She rushed to the kitchen and moments later returned with a tea towel in hand, which she used to vigorously rub me down from head to toe.
When she reached the bottom of my trousers, her strict mum voice came back once again.
“When was the last time you polished these shoes?” she interrogated. “You know there’s no point having nice things if you don’t look after them.” – a phrase my own mother used countless times with me during my youth.
Luckily, being down by my feet at the time, she didn’t notice my exaggerated ‘teenage’ eye roll.
With the suit drying process now complete, I removed my shoes as she walked across the room and parked herself in a nearby chair. Crossing both her arms and legs, she issued her next mothering instructions.
“Now take it off.”
I removed my suit jacket and trousers, before placing them neatly on a nearby hanger.
“And your shirt.”
“And those,” she said, pointing at my socks.
Given her strict tone of voice, I didn’t put up a fight. I removed my wet socks and stood up straight, sucking in my stomach as she observed me, shivering, now wearing nothing but my Calvins.
“Those too,” she said, this time with a wry smile and a twinkle in her eye.
After a moment’s hesitation, I followed orders, managing to quickly grab the nearest thing I could find (an old glove that was drying on a nearby radiator) in an attempt to preserve my modesty…
She observed for what felt like hours, with a wicked look on her face before issuing her final orders:
“Now go and take a shower…you stink!”
It took all my willpower to refrain from shouting back in protest, in my whiniest teenage twang…
All that’s left to say is: if we have a son, good luck to you, my boy!
22 weeks and 5 days left to go…
Have you inherited any unexpected parenting traits or sayings from your folks, either good or bad? Or has your other half displayed any mothering (or fathering) skills or styles that surprised you?
As always, we’d love to hear from you, so please do share your stories with the group via the comments section below.