Tag Archives: homemaker

Desperate Houselives, Day 4

There is an episode of the Simpsons where Marge’s sisters mind Bart & Lisa. When Homer arrives to collect them they rush to him and cling to his shins, and he has to walk out with them still clinging on like cricket pads.

Mrs Tin returns home tonight and may well receive a similar welcome from the Tinkids, as they look forward to dinners which contain fresh vegetables, and which don’t loosen their fillings or taste predominantly of black.

Ok, I’ve tried to be cynical about the week and paint it as a week of endless drudgery and domestic incompetence, but here’s what really happened.

1. I got to get up two hours later than usual each morning (which meant I got up in daylight);

2. On Tuesday I read my newspaper sitting in the sunshine;

3. I drove Tingirl to school each morning, and therefore had 30 minutes of chat with her that I rarely get;

4. Today is Tinson2’s birthday, and I hadn’t already left for work when he woke;

5. I read an entire book;

6. I cooked for my children, and got to hear them say “thanks”, and sometimes “that was really good”, and I have decided to ignore the slight hint of surprise in their voices whenever they said it.

In other words, I’ve had a great time.

Having said that, I’m really looking forward to work next week.

Desperate Houselives, Day 3

Ironing is not as much fun as I remember it being.

Back when Mrs Tin and I were both working outside the home I used to do most of the ironing in the evenings, and found it quite therapeutic, since it involved no thought at all and was different in every way to my day job.

In those days, of course, there were fewer of us, and therefore the pile seemed quite finite.

Now I could iron for the next twenty-two days and the pile would still be the size of the EU’s butter mountain, though containing more single socks.

It’s also harder when your pacemaker turns on at 9.56 each morning and you’re trying to iron smoothly while half the muscles around your shoulder are in spasm.

And the iron we have now is crap – much lighter and less steamy than the one we used to have, which I could have used to flatten out a Volkswagen Beetle.

Still, at least I now know what to get Mrs Tin for her birthday.

(That’s a JOKE, by the way).

Desperate Houselives, Day 1

While Mrs Tin has been away since Thursday, last week the Tinkids were off school so they didn’t really need me at all. This morning they’re back, so this is my first day as a real house husband.

I’ve made sure they were all up, got their breakfasts, doled out money for a number of suspiciously unlikely-sounding reasons, sent the boys off in time for their bus, driven Tingirl to school, gone shopping in Tesco so early that some of their stuff like potato salad wasn’t even laid out yet, put away the shopping, tidied up after breakfast, and now I’m staring at the washing going around in the machine, waiting for it to stop so I’ll have something to do.

It’s eight minutes past ten, and I’m not due to see another human being for five hours.

On the plus side, the off-licences open in twenty-two minutes.

I’m gonna buy me a bottle of gin.