In the next week or so, two will become three, and I can’t help but wonder how much everything will change. One of the main things obviously, will be our living situation. We’ve heard all of the horror stories about newborns, and I like to think we are ready for it, but without a doubt it’ll hit us like a tonne of bricks still. There are some things that no one can prepare you for. Looking back, even moving in with a boyfriend had a good few of these. The lack of privacy, kissing goodbye to personal space, the washing up debates, sure, I was prepared for that. There was a good few few key points I never thought about, and that no one told me about before moving in with your better half. I thought it would be nice to list the things that shocked me a bit, just before it all changes yet again…
It’s not a bad smell – at least, not the majority of the time. But there is a distinct change in scent. It’s just boy smell. There’s a constant musk that no amount of Vanilla candles or open windows can mask, and although you get accustomed to it, every so often, you’ll get a whiff and wonder how you’ve not been noticing it all along. It’s a good thing I don’t mind boy smell, it comes with the territory, but it is different to what I’ve been used to for the past 21 years.. Whilst on the subject of smells actually, the wardrobe will never ever be the same again after adding the collection of football boots and trainers to the floor- nothing can bring it back after that, plain nasty.
This is probably the most annoying for me. As I write this, the bedside table to my left has two cans of pear cider (manly, I know) and a 2 litre bottle of irn bru. This is nothing new – despite my daily protests, rooms are constantly filled with bottles and cans, mostly empty, I’m beginning to think he’s just using them as decoration. I like pointless plants and candles, he likes juice. Banning these bottles and cans and buying him a glitter unicorn cup worked well for a whole two weeks – until he decided he wanted to stop washing it and left banana milk untouched for days – safe to say that cup was swiftly thrown out, neither of us were brave enough to even open it let alone use it again. Also, take note of his ‘snack stash’ peaking out of the drawer… the walk to the kitchen would just be far far too much clearly.
I’m no stranger to a floordrobe, don’t get me wrong. Anyone who’s seen my wardrobe in years previous can vouch for that, the difference between mine, and a boys though, is mine is clean. I have a bad habit of trying every single item of clothing I have on before leaving the house, and leaving the unlucky picks amassed in a pile on the floor in the wardrobe – the perk of a walk in wardrobe though means that the room still gets to look tidy. I’m all about an immaculate room (or at least, the look of one), my drawers and storage can be a riot, but to the naked eye it needs to look neat. I don’t think boys quite understand this. On any given morning there will be at least 2 pairs of calvins, 2 pairs of old socks, one lot of work uniforms, and a good few pairs of loungey shorts. Every single morning. How it is that one boy manages to go through all of that in the space of a few hours I’ll never know. The ability to always somehow miss the washing basket also escapes me….despite having a very distinct marked place for these dirty clothes, the floor just makes more sense.
There’s something about living together that makes take-aways so much more justified than before. I can’t put my finger on it, but before we lived together, take-aways were a weekly occurrence, if that. I don’t like take away food and never have, yet somehow now, they are constant! This may also have something to do with the pregnancy and the lack of discipline I have personally in my diet right now – Jordan seems to be taking full advantage of my lack of protest at a kebab or five.
I never thought I’d have to hide candles after moving in with a boy. For some reason, Jordan burns them more than I do, and when he burns them, he burns them. Candles last all of 3 uses in this household given that he likes to burn them for 6 hours at a time…. it’s a good thing they are cheap. At least it has it’s positives, they work wonders for masking boy musk. Speaking of sharing – beauty products are now shared. No one told me that would happen – face masks here, tweezers there, moisturiser if he so requires, he takes better care of himself than I do now.
This was to be expected I suppose, it was just wishful thinking that I’d be lucky and still be allowed to watch Dance Moms on repeat. Surprise, surprise, I’m not. What we watch on the TV now has definitely changed, and compromises have been made on both parts. I don’t really mind this though, football doesn’t go a miss, and he enjoys bake off, whether he cares to admit it or not.
Bathrooms will never be the same again. Where do I even start… Towels are draped here there and everywhere, you can guarantee at any point in the week you can still find little hair clippings from the weekly hair trim, the packets of contacts are left daily, as are the holders, and toothpaste somehow ends up everywhere. If I was to ask him the same question though about my toilet habits, I’m sure he’d easily find my make-up, tweezers and ridiculous amounts of bath essentials around the edge of the tub just as irritating, so I feel like we’re pretty even here, and I can’t really complain. For fear of permanently scarring you, I’ll leave the picture as the lovely little contact boxes that seem to follow me everywhere now… they are EVERYWHERE.
This may come from just reaching the comfortable stage, but once you live with someone, there really is no going back to the honeymoon period where you can look presentable the majority of the time. Once they’ve saw you waking up with toothpaste covering your spots, bed-head to rival a lion and morning breathe that could near enough knock someone out, they really have saw everything, an there is no going back. On the plus side, I go through half the amount of make-up I did before and the ability to embrace the no-bra look is second to none.
Living together does have it’s positives, don’t get me wrong. I may have spent a solid full post slating living with your partner, but once I got over the relatively small points of the bedside drinks tray and some dirty boxers on the floor, I quickly came around to living someone that can cook – and cook well – who can make me laugh 80% of the time (the other 20% I’m probably in a mood, perks of pregnancy hormones), and who gets as frustrated as I do at the shite acts on X-Factor this year. Of course, just as we get used to living together as two, everything is changing, but I couldn’t be happier bringing a baby into a house.
Actually that’s a lie, if Jordan would move the limeade can that’s been sat on the table for 3 days that would just make life perfect.