Well - it's been a while now being a Stay At Home Dad, a Home Maker, a House Husband, A Home Worker, a Professional Wanker, or whatever myriad of names you want to call it.
It's about time i wrote down my experiences and feelings in a kind of blog, diary, or endless stream of verbal diahorrea on an intermittant basis - and purely when i feel the urge to. A bit like the housework really.............
'Stay At Home Dad'
What a depressing term that is. It's almost as if someone has ordered me to stay within the confines of my household prison and damn well stay there until i have served my penance. What are you doing out here in the real workers world looking all normal and happy? Get back inside and stay at home until we tell you to come out...............
So, what do i say when people ask me what i do? Easy - i work from home and look after the kids. Cos that's it really in a nutshell. How has it been? Well, the start was bad. I spent two months in a kind of hazy bubble of euphoria for having the gumption to hand my notice in and tell the world i had enough of the long hours, stress and lack of family time - and i wanted to get off.
People thought i was brave. Lucky. Stupid. Sensible. Lovely. Insane. Going through an early mid-life crisis. Making the wrong decision. You'll be back in a few weeks. You'll never last. You'll never come back to work again. What a great idea......
Everyone had some kind of opinion and wanted to question it further until the point of exhaustion. Do i think this would have happened if i was a woman? No. If a woman decides to leave full-time work to look after kids it is just accepted as a perfectly normal thing to do. I was called into the head office by the Area manager to get brow-beaten as to whether i was doing 'the right thing'. A wonderful career was ahead of me. Sure was. So was ridiculous hours, stress, working at weekends and not seeing my family. Not for me anymore thanks. i have done my time and then some.
After my two months of doing absolutely sod all like i was on some kind of endless holiday, i pulled myself out of my trance and got onto some serious home making. I cleaned the floors every day, organised wardrobes, sorted the garage, painted, threw myself into every aspect of the housework. I felt all smug cos i was at last 'better than the nanny'. She was obsessively clean and seemed to follow the kids round the house after them. No matter what time i arrived home - the place was always spotless. In the first two months of being off work - the house looked like a Tasmanian devil on amphetemine was lodging with me during the day.
The wife purred how nice it was to have it all done for her. I walked round feeling as smug as a Cheshire Cat.
Didn't last long when the mini depresion set in.................