The first week of normal life...

I want to be able to record on here the highs and the lows and I'm hoping that Ben will feel comfortable to do the same; without entirely "airing our dirty laundry" in public.

We were always told that living together wouldn't be easy and I can say that it certainly seems that there are going to be some moments where the adjustments we are having to make will be a little uncomfortable. I think to explain myself I'll have to make some confessions about my character.

I'm feminist. I don't think women should strive to be like men- I think we have different roles and different strengths. I don't believe women were born with an unusually remarkable knack for cooking or cleaning that we should endeavour to magnify as our lives' work. I'm feminist in that I believe in ability across the board and I feel like women wrongly get a hard deal at times. I have no problem with a woman choosing to be a stay-at-home mother- it's a choices I may well personally find desirable one day. What I do have a problem with is anyone setting a limit on achievement based on gender.

I'm impatient. I once heard a friend telling her boyfriend to stop stirring something not because the way that he was doing it wouldn't have achieved the aim, but because it wasn't the way she would have done it and as such it was "wrong". I laughed when I heard it because it made me realise how alike my friend and I are; and how silly we sound.

I expect a lot from people. Now, as I'm impatient I don't see it as a lot. I just expect people to use what I believe is common sense.

I'm proud and stubborn. This means that when I don't know how to do something I won't admit it.

Due to these confessions and the many more I could make, I make life difficult for myself.

I'm not very capable at the moment; this whole being married and running my own home thing is new for me and it overwhelms me. I know that I'm supposed to be doing this with Ben by my side to make it all so much more tolerable.

Anecdote: a few days ago, after a day on placement, I decided that I would get around the problem of our broken oven by boiling potatoes and making mash. Yes, I understand that this is a simple procedure- nevertheless, I hadn't ever made mashed potato before. Unwilling to admit this and knowing that I could solve my own problem (proud and stubborn) I googled how to make mash and I realised that, just as I thought, it was simple and totally achievable with only butter, milk and salt - all of which I had. Hurray! I even picked up gravy granules so we could have gravy with our bangers and mash.

I got into the kitchen and peeled the potatoes and prepared the saucepan. The potatoes were nearly on the boil when Ben got home from work. We sat in the kitchen and talked and he had brought home some things which he said were "gifts" for me- he handed me a few baking trays which got my back up (feminist) before giving me a few things I actually had been wanting. (impatient). He went to set up our DVD player and when he got back into the kitchen 15 minutes later I had one hand steadying a pan full of sausages, another attempting to mash the potato and some how I was trying to put sweetcorn in the microwave and stir gravy. Due to my total awareness of my own incompetence, the impatience really starting bubbling when I was asked, "Is there anything I can do?". I looked around at the myriad of things to be done- in my mind, all too clear (expect a lot from people) and I had to stop myself from throwing something at him.

"This isn't my JOB" (feminist)
"you should already BE mashing the potato!" (impatient)
"why aren't you doing BETTER than this??" (expecting a lot)
"I've worked all of this out and I will do it MYSELF!" (proud and stubborn)

With all of these reactions flying around in my head what came out was, "just leave the kitchen." My voice was a mixture of threat and hysteria.

When we sat down to dinner I wasn't in a wonderful mood. He complemented the food (Impatiently, I thought "it's only bangers and mash, don't patronise me") and was lovely. I explained to him, still slightly hysterical, that no one gave me a manual on how to be married. I told him that women aren't born with recipes engraved on their hearts. I was fully scathing, fully impatient, full of high expectations that were (in my mind) unfulfilled and too proud and stubborn to see how I could approach this situation any other way.

Lesson of the week: I have a lot to learn!!!