My sister in law and I often joke about being struggling footy widows, as opposed to a part of the glamorous WAGS (wives and girlfriends) club, where it’s a prerequisite to have amazing hair and lovingly support your partner in their chosen sport (or in regular people’s cases, any hobby). Can you say that? Hell yes! And I’m sure all of the wives of FIFO (fly in, fly out) workers would agree, and then some, with the label we’ve given ourselves. Being left alone to solo parent is the worst.
Yes, it’s fantastic that he’s keeping active. Yes, it’s great that he’s having social time with his mates, and yes… I bloody loathe it! Um, can we just live a perfect family life where you NEVER leave me for more than eight hours? Ha! A girl can dream.
Instead I am finding myself hating on life three times a week, while hubster goes out and enjoys footy [insert your partners’ choice of hobby/work/adult thing here] with his mates, and I’m left at home bored, doing peak hour on my own, and counting down the minutes till he gets home just so I can throw a child (or three) his way and go to the toilet without being simultaneously snuggled.
