The Accidental Trad Wife

What’s a love language?

It was cold this morning. I woke up at 5:50, and put the heating on. I got back into bed and snuggled up to my husband. I’m cold, his ‘love language’ is physical touch, everyone wins. Who even made up love languages? Mine’s meant to be ‘Acts of service’, that’s not such a great one to get. It makes me seem egotistical. But really, I’m just appreciative when someone takes the bins down. 

I fell back asleep for ten minutes, then a standard morning began. My husband got up and ready, we had our kiss at the door, then back to bed with a can of Monster. Not so much back to bed, as I sausage rolled in the duvet and laid on the floor next to the radiator. 

Duolingo is my current drug. I did an hour of practice before I got up properly. If someone needs to ask for a red hat and a new sweater in Italy, I’m your woman.

I got up and started the cleaning at 9am. 

I had to make ‘that’ call

After cleaning the kitchen, I couldn’t put it off any longer. I needed to call the mortgage broker and tell her that I’ve been made redundant, and we need to be re-evaluated solely on my husband’s salary. 

It wasn’t an easy call to make. 

When I first called, our broker checked the figures and we were 30k short of meeting the requirements for our mortgage. I told her my husband has had bonuses and some paid overtime. She asked for new payslips to see if she could make it work. 

This is shit. Really, really shit. We need to sort it, and I’m trying to sort it. But I’m having to admit to something I don’t want to. I’m not comfortable with the part of Trad life that means you don’t have your own income.

I emailed over my husband’s payslips. Our mortgage broker is good, really good. She called me back 15 minutes later and had already updated our details and thinks she can make it work. We’re 99% there.

It might mean that I’m not named on the mortgage, and it might mean I could potentially be listed as a dependent. I’m happy we haven’t lost the sale. I also have a lot of feelings again about how I almost lost it for us. 

I did a bit more cleaning then went out to meet my mum for lunch. We ate chips, shared our Duolingo progress and chatted, it was nice.

A Monday roast 

When I got back after lunch, I continued the cleaning, and started the cooking. My husband asked for a ‘Chicken dinner’, I think that means roast. I hope it means roast, I love roasts. 

My husband came home. He was having some political argument over the phone when he walked in, and for about 20 minutes after. I told him how much it stresses me out. A ‘good’ Trad wife might have just accepted that this is something my husband needs to do, or maybe they’d voice their opinion like I did. I think it’s the latter.

A couple of hours later, we sat together and ate the roast, dipping Yorkshire puddings into gravy as we watched an episode of Black Mirror. The world is fucked. I should stop watching shows about how the world is fucked. But it is, and I like the commentary.

I went and sat in bed, still reflecting. I feel like I’ve let us down. I could have played it differently. But the sale probably won’t fall through, and it’s probably all going to be ok. 

The Trad Wife round up:

Glasses of Sauvignon: 1
Roast potatoes eaten: 4
Mortgage: Probably OK
Italian: Poor to vaguely conversational, but rising