The Accidental Trad Wife

Un-caffeinated

I woke up with no husband, no kiss, and vitally, no can of Monster. I cannot function without caffeine. I feel like there’s a judgement against people who drink energy drinks, it’s no worse than having several coffees a day. It’s just my choice of morning stimulant. The optics of it aren’t very Trad Wife though. 

I headed to Tesco to procure a morning can of Monster, I put on an outfit that looked fitting for someone going for a morning jog, three quarter trackies and a fitted vest. I could have worn anything, but for whatever reason I wanted to appear in a certain way at 6:55 on a Friday morning. I picked up a can of Monster, and headed back home. 

I returned to bed, drank the essential caffeinated beverage and then spent two hours making the house warm, cosy and sparkling clean. 

I then got ready to meet my friend and her five month old for lunch. 

Out for lunch again

My friend Lynds parked up, and we walked to town with her little one in a pram. He’s a great small human. Neither me or my husband ever want any of our own, but I still love my friend’s kids. I don’t know why I never got the expected womanly urge to procreate, but I didn’t. I hate when people ask me when me and my husband will have children. I don’t use hate lightly, it boils in me when people ask. They shouldn’t.

We had a lovely lunch across two pubs, and caught up and gossiped over wine. We gossip a lot when we’re together. It’s never malicious gossip, just who’s doing what, where, when and why. 

I headed back home with only three hours to make dinner and beautify myself before my husband got home. 

1950s chic

I got back, poured a glass of prosecco and started blasting through the cooking. I think I’m beginning to understand why 1950s housewives did so many drugs. How am I going to look perfect and relaxed and have dinner ready for my husband when he walks in the door. I think I have a bit of weed stashed away somewhere in the house, but that would have the opposite effect I need. I have no speed or uppers, it never really did it for me. 

I somehow finished the cooking with 20 minutes to spare. Arrancini, meatballs, aioli, parmesan broccoli, steak, and white wine porcini mushrooms all prepped and ready. 

I finished my makeup and hair, and dressed up in a new 50s style dress I’d bought for the flourish of a Trad Wife evening. This was just for fun, not what I think being a Trad Wife is, but I feel pretty. It’s really nice to feel pretty. I don’t dress up a lot, I’m a jeans and t-shirt girl. Feeling pretty is nice, that might sound like an anti-feminist thing to say. I don’t see it like that, I chose to do it, no one asked me, and I feel pretty, and feeling pretty is nice. 

My husband came home and I met him at the door with a kiss, a drink, and my feminine 50s look. 

We listened to some 80s music, Jessie’s Girl is a jam. We then chatted cuddled up on the sofa with our two course Italian feast. 

Today, I have no complaints.

The Trad Wife round up:

Feeling: Pretty, and OK with that
Children: 0
Dinner: 9.5/10
I wish that I had: Jessie’s girl