Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband

Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband [Sam Holden] on leondumoulin.nl * FREE* shipping on qualifying offers. In theory, life for Sam as a stay-at-home dad is.
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Other books in the series. Hapless Househusband 2 books. Books by Sam Holden. Trivia About Growing Pains of Not a bad idea, Ireplied. Ensuing row with Sally. Slammed doors, carengine started, ran out and begged her to stay,she said she was only driving off to clear herhead.

Growing pains of a hapless househusband /Sam Holden. – National Library

She's been doing a lot of this recently. Phone call from contrite Sally 10 minutes laterinforming me she'd had a puncture on the mainroad and could I pick her up? Bundle childreninto other car and collect her. Spend 30 secondsattempting to loosen the wheel nuts beforeadmitting failure.

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Get back home, and call thebreakdown people. Decide that Iwill call back later. Car is far enough off the road. Arrival of Jane and Derek. Instant bollocking fornot removing Jane's coat quickly enough. Wantto tell her that I would more readily remove herhead. I tried to bullshitmy way out of it by saying that I didn't reallyapprove of the way that turkeys are reared, towhich Jane responded that this was anotherexample of the 'pathetic sensitivity' that mygeneration showed to animals.

Did I eat everything raw, even chicken? Shewould contract 'salamanella', how could I feedthis to her? I chucked the whole chicken intothe microwave much to her disgust — 'We'll getnucleated' which resulted in it being utterlydried out and tasteless. Daisy and Peter behaved atrociously duringlunch, which naturally earned much opprobriumfrom Jane. At least Derek just sat and gotquietly pissed. I expect he does that most meals. I decided to copy him, which wasn't a great idea. Two policemen,grim faces, which caused instant sobriety.

Turns outI'm being charged with 'leaving a vehicle in aplace of endangerment', for which Sally was soapologetic, for which I felt livid, and Jane accusedme of being a criminal. Not exactly a great New Year's Eve last night, largelyowing to the fact that I spent it on my own. Sally wascalled up to the office at 5 o'clock in the afternoon —some flare-up in Ktyteklhdfistan or somewhere — andshe didn't get back until 7 this evening.

As a result spentthe whole day trying to fend off Peter and Daisy'spleadings for their mummy, while doing my best toentertain them. By the time Sally got home, I was readyto vent my spleen, but she looked so knackered, that Ithought it would be dreadfully unfair. Instead, I pouredher a large gin and tonic and put a slutty supermarketpizza in the oven and we sat down to watch a DVD allof which we were supposed to do last night.

Predictably, Sally fell asleep just as theopeningcreditsbegan to roll, and so I half-carried her upstairs andtucked her into bed. She murmured somethingappreciative and then she fell back asleep before Iturned off the light. Gave up on the film, and instead satdown to write this. I really wish Sally would give up her job.

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I know thatit's an impossibility, but there MUST be something elseshe could do. Even just to move departments tosomething less taxing would help, but she'd see that asa sign of failure, which I suppose would be fair enough. It might help if I do more consultancy work for SirRoger, but the more work I do, the less I am able to lookafter the children, which means hiring a nanny, whichis not exactly the point of me being at home to raisethem.

At least not in Sally's book. And that's a very strictbook. After the disaster that was Christmas, and the noneventthat has been New Year, I don't feel good aboutthis year at all. I should have been a soothsayer. My old company hasbeen taken over by Minto Fellowes what sort of name isthat for a firm of management consultants?

In fact, utterly crap news: I tried calling Sir Roger, but he was inAntigua apparently. For the next month. Afterall I've done for him. If it weren't for me discovering thatthose bastards Chris and David were trying to run downthe company before taking it over, he wouldn't have hada firm to sell, and now he's tanning his man boobs onsome exclusive beach with his latest bimbo. At bathtime, I got Daisy and Peter to stick up some oftheir rubber letters on to the tiles to form the sentence'Sir Roger is a treacherous bastard', and then took apicture of them pulling faces next to it.

I wanted to putsomething a lot ruder, but I thought explaining whatthe words 'tosser' and 'fuckwit' meant was somewhatinappropriate for a four-year-old boy and a two-year-oldgirl. I then emailed the result to my old work buddyClive, but the email bounced back. Broke the bad news to Sally when she got back.

Inearly didn't, as she looked drained, but worked on theprinciple that there was no good time to tell her. We stood in silence until Sally turned and opened thefridge. A small jug of off cream fell out and smashed onto the floor, severely splattering her shoes, which Iimmediately noticed were suede. I watched Sally'sshoulders slump. Normally, she would have had a bit ofa fit — I'm pretty sure these are currently or were hermost favoured footwear — but instead she just turnedround with a resigned expression and slipped the shoesoff, examined them, and then put them in the bin.

Next came a bowl with something slightly blue in it. God knows what it was, but it followed the shoes, alongwith several other foodstuffs that were either past theirsell-by dates, too colourful or not colourful enough. In the end, the weekend wasn't too bad. We had Nigeland Clare round for lunch today, and even though webarely spoke to each other as we attempted to feed andpolice the five children, it was good to see old friends,and really great to see that the children got on so well.

Both Peter and Daisy, barring the odd minor tantrum,were the perfect little hosts, and shared all their toys,which was nothing short of a miracle. What wasn't so great was the news that Nigel has beenpromoted, which now means they can send their bunchto the oh-so-swanky private primary school, and they'realso looking to buy a new house. Naturally, I pretendedto be delighted for him, but if I'm being honest, I canonly be genuinely happy at friends' success if I'm alsodoing well.

Is this just me? I don't think so. At least I hope it is. However, I think I'vegot a bit too much of whatever it is, as I find my heartalso leaps when I hear that a friend has failed. I suspectthis makes me a very bad person, but I hope not. In truth, I want my friends and I all to be equally richand successful. Besides, I doubt they'd worry aboutmy motive. I wouldn't if someone gave me a quarter ofa million quid.

Sally's logic was unpalatably brutal. I am easily thepoorest of my friends, but the whole point of mebecoming a househusband was that such things didn'tmatter. However, they still do. The only ground I'm inis some sort of swamp. I feel like sending Sir Roger oneof the crappy postcards of the local church and writing'Wish You Were Here' on it, with an arrow pointing tothe graveyard. Just before I came up, Sally reminded me that wehave dinner with her sister Victoria next Friday.

Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband

This isfine, as Victoria is a lot poorer than us, so I like herimmensely despite her pothead vocab. Her boyfriendRick is some sort of 'landscape designer', who is indeedextremely poor, so I think he may have to become mynew best friend. Whatever is happening in Ktyteklhdfistan is gettingworse. Not that I can possibly know what is actually happeningthere, because places like Ktyteklhdfistan neverappear on the news. I doubt that they ever did. However,what I do know is that Sally is working increasinglylate, and when she gets home, she bashes away furiouslyon her laptop.

She seems muted and distant.

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I've neverknown her like this. She also looks somewhat tired, andI even thought I spotted a grey hair in amongst hernormally shampoo-advert-like long brown tresses.


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When I ask her what the matter is, all she can say isthat things in Ktyteklhdfistan are pretty bad and there'sa lot to sort out. She can't be more specific, which isinfuriating. She shook her head as she drained her third glass ofwine. Another worrying development — she's beginningto drink as much as me. That's about the politest way I can put it. I'm ruing my latest 'it'll be fine'. There is noconsultancy work out there, not even for me, the greatwhistleblower who saved Sir Roger's august firm ofMusker Walsh and Sloss Consultants Ltd. I am feelingincreasingly bitter about this, perhaps more so thanwhen I lost my job.

I'm also feeling a bit guilty that I've taken this out onPeter and Daisy. After picking up Peter from school andDaisy from playgroup, the rest of the day was a bit of awashout. Literally, because it was raining, andmetaphorically because everything I attempted to dowith them felt half-hearted. They picked up on mymood immediately, and as a result, they were bolshy.


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    4. Normally they love painting, buttoday they showed a marked reluctance. Peter's reluctance was copied by Daisy, who shookher head and went 'no' each time I tried to put apaintbrush in her hand. Normally she is good for asquiggle or two, but today she just flung the paintbrushto the floor. I then told her this was naughty, and sheburst into tears. Cue large shouting match which saw me leave themalone in the kitchen while I read the paper in theliving room. Or rather, I pretended to read the paperas all I could concentrate on was the ceaselessbellyaching.

    All because I had started them off badly. It was my fault, I knew it, but I find it impossible tohide my mood from them. Perhaps I should be moreprofessional, and not take my problems to 'work', butthey should realise that Daddy is human as well, evenif not a particularly brilliant one. Later, partly out ofguilt, but more because I actually wanted to, I gavethem both some huge cuddles on the sofa, and orderwas restored. My whole life is stretching in front of me, and fromhere it looks like something Daisy would have paintedhad she been willing — a bloody mess, a meaninglessbunch of squiggles and splodges that add up to verylittle, but something which other people must bepolite about.

    I'll be able to see it in my friends' eyes,the same look that I give Daisy and Peter when Iadmire their artwork. And there'll be the same wordsas well — the over enthusiastic 'well dones' and 'goodfor yous'. But the big difference between the childrenand me is that they're proud of what they do.

    Growing pains of a hapless househusband

    I justpretend to be. This is all getting self-pitying and revolting. Dinner at Victoria's tomorrow night — there had betternot be any rich people there. Dinner at Victoria's was so much better than I expected. So so much better. In fact, potentially life-changing. Imust do my best not to get too excited.

    Alessia Cara - Growing Pains (Lyrics)

    But I can't helpit, and I doubt anybody would be able to keep calm inmy circumstances. I've gone from the equivalent ofnulpointsto the cusp of Eurovision greatness in just a fewdays, and if this thing pays off, boy will it pay off. Anyway, to begin at the beginning.