If you leave work … can I come too?

It’s terrifying. Not working is so seductive. No having to frantically dress, get the kids ready for school, rush to catch the bus in the morning, work in an office for eight hours every day  … I’m sure the novelty will wear off eventually, but at the moment it feels like I could do this forever. Husband would like me to do it forever too. He lay in bed last night waxing lyrical about how much he was enjoying being able to get to work at a decent time and stay there as long as he likes (strange man, loves his job). I have embraced all the stay-at-home stereotypes remarkably quickly, like berating him for how little he does around the house (sparked by filling out the Census form last night and arguing over how many hours of upaid work he does a week, unfairly skewed because he built the chicken gulag last Friday). I used to rely on Husband to scrub all the really grotty grills and pans etc left in the sink or on the stove after dinner. Days pass now and they just sit there going mouldy until I get fed up and clean them. Husband used to pack and upack the diswasher. Husband used to help make the kids’ lunches. Husband doesn’t do any of these things anymore. He just looks a little crestfallen when he finally comes home from work, heats his dinner up in the microwave and discovers there’s no wine chilling in the fridge. I shouldn’t be typing right now, because we have Husband’s friends from Singapore coming for lunch. Husband was supposed to be here to help, but some important Union business has come up. So I’m cooking the slow-roasted lamb, cleaning the house, washing the chook poo off the back verandah and generally feeling all tight in the chest about the fact they’ll be here in 90 minutes. Husband will try to be here in 90 minutes as well, but no guarantees. Oh, he’s not so bad, really. I’ve heard enough horror stories from the mums in the playground about how they literally never see their partners to know I’m pretty lucky to be married to someone who’s such a devoted dad and husband. I just wish he was here right now to hose that chook poo instead of me.

TONIGHT’S MENU: Leftover roast lamb with feta & olives from lunch (throw in some cream and it makes a passable pasta sauce)