Confessions of a Golf Widow

I currently find myself at a stage in my life where I seem to be side-lined to the new passion in his life. Many women, pushing forty with kids, may find themselves in a similar position. You may have witnessed your other halves retire themselves from a physical sport such as Football or Rugby due to dodgy knees, niggly backs, the pressure of family life or their expanding waste lines and you may begin to look forward to them being around the house a bit more, helping with the chores, tinkering in the garden and entertaining the kids while you have a little lie down.

But no, how wrong can you be.

Fearing that they will be stuck for things to do, at such a quiet and peaceful time in their lives, they decide to turn their interest to a more leisurely sport called ‘Golf’. A sport, which unlike their previous sporting interests, has no real set lengths of play and can go on for most of the fucking day.  A sport which keeps them out of the house longer than a game of football would have done when you could really do with a bit of back up as the kids begin to drive you insane at home. A sport which helps them unwind after a hard week (because they deserve it), gets them out of the house for some fresh air and a allows them to have a good old catch up with their buddies in the club house after they’ve been playing  for  FIVE SODDING HOURS!!!

As you may be sensing from the tone of this post I have been less than enthused about this new passion in his life and have become a little bit of a twat and a smidge resentful at times.   After a few constructive conversations blazing rows with no  apparent resolution in sight, I find myself having to come to terms with the fact that in addition to being a STAY AT HOME MUM (aka slave to midget’s), I have become a GOLF WIDOW (aka being separated from other half by a metal stick). With this acceptance I feel I have a duty to confess to some of the slightly random goings on during the past twelve months.

If I find golf balls or those small stick things that you place in the ground, lying around the house I chuck them in the rubbish bin because I cannot be arsed to collect them all up from the places that they get dumped and tidy them all away. It’s just something else that I need to clear up, and after clearing up after your kids all day I DO NOT WANT TO BE CLEARING UP YOUR GOLF SHIT.

I steal the chocolate bars out of your Golf bag. Why should you be able to swan around a golf course eating your chocolate as free as a birdie (see what I did there) when I have to hide in the fridge to eat one sodding crumb of chocolate. I DESERVE CHOCOLATE, IT’S A NECESSITY.

I don’t tell the kids to leave your Golf bag alone if it’s in the house, I hate it in the house. They seem to be very good at breaking shit so I thought I’d see how they get on with that. PUT THE GOLF BAG SOMEWHERE ELSE.

I do not like the Golf bag in the house, it doesn’t fit in with the décor and gets in the way. May I suggest a better place; pick it up, carry it to the car, place in boot, get in the car, drive car South until you reach the end of England and  DROP IT OFF A CLIFF INTO THE FUCKING SEA.

I delete the Golf programmes that are on the Sky planner and blame it on Sky and the fact that they delete programmes if the memory gets full. I have no idea why it just randomly picks the Golf? *puzzled face*. The programmes go on for soooo long that they use up all my Peppa Pig babysitting minutes.   PEPPA PIG IS ESSENTIAL FOR MY SANITY GOLF PROGRAMMES SEND ME INSANE.

When attacking the ironing pile if I get to your golf clothes I miss them out and put them straight to the bottom of the pile. I am rarely on top of the ironing mountain so you can now see why the chances of having freshly pressed Golf clothes are a very rare occurrence. GET YOURSELF READY FOR GOLF, I HAVE THREE OTHER PEOPLE TO DRESS EVERY FUCKING DAY.

I find Golf boring and no I do not want to watch it on telly and yes I do mind if you put golf on telly in the evening. I have spent most of the day on my knees while midget’s throw food at me so I DO NOT WANT TO WATCH BLOKES BAT A BALL ROUND A FIELD. What I really want to do is curl up on the sofa with my buddies Ben and Jerry and watch Sleepless in Seattle.

I find golf terminology and tradition  stupid. Birdies, Eagles – these are wildlife with wings. It makes no sense and I haven’t a clue what this means. Parr, scratch, handicap – not a clue. And what is it with the stupid tradition about buying everyone in the club a drink when you hit a hole in one? Surely everyone else should be buying you a drink for achieving what I see as a near impossible shot. ITS ALL UTTER NONSENSE

The rain makes me happy. I love it when it rains or bad weather sets in because it means golf will be cancelled and you get to spend the morning with us – eating bacon sandwiches, sitting by the fire and generally just knobbing about in our pj’s until the dogs pester us to take them for a walk. I LOVE SPENDING TIME WITH YOU AND OUR AMAZING LITTLE FAMILY,

I love that you have a passion in life

I love to see the pleasure in your face when you’ve had a good round.

You work really hard and deserve a break.

The house is mental, its complete and utter chaos, it can sometimes make your head spin.   

I UNDERSTAND WHY YOU NEED TO ESCAPE TO THE FAIRWAY