Domestic God

Some of my workmates find themselves secretly bemused when I prematurely announce my cherished ambition of settling down as a full-time househusband. Certainly not the most macho dream I'll admit and some of the more conservative fellows raised their eyebrows. A few workaholic types wonder how I can possibly turn my back on my hard-earned academic qualifications while the less ambitious half imagine that I'd be utterly bored at home within a week.

Colleague #1 : Leave work? How can you? After you've worked so hard to get where you are!
Colleague #2 : You'd grow utterly bored in a day or two! What would you find to do at home?

Trust me, I'd find lots to do. And by that, I don't mean doing the hunky jailbait gardener on the side while the hubby is at work.

My overstressed Type A colleagues would stare at the very idea of leaving the workforce for the sheer drudgery of househusbandry but I've always looked at it differently. You see, I've never thought that life was just about that endless paper chase or even that perilous, back-stabbing climb up the career ladder. Always placed more emphasis on tending to the home and hearth rather than bringing home the bacon.

And lately it seems as if Charming Calvin might bring home the larger piece of bacon so I might as well stay home. :P


Damn, the damned pipes are clogged again!
Early mornings would be spent preparing cute though elaborately decorated bento-breakfasts for the hubby - and the unappreciative tykes. After sending off my reluctant hubby to work ( no doubt full of sad whines about office politics ) and packing the screaming kids to school, I'd take a few minutes to decompress by preparing a small, easily prepared breakfast for myself - maye some waffles and maple syrup. very Nigella Lawson, I know. Then I'd grab some coffee, a portable radio and the newspaper. Work my way through the world news as I plan my dinner menu.

Maybe even write out the dishes on the chalkboard by my beautifully appointed IKEA-inspired kitchen.

Then it's laundry and housecleaning time. After an hour or two of back-breaking spring cleaning - you gotta sweep at least once a day, right? - I'd probably spend some time on the occasional DIY projects. Either reupholstering the sofa or perhaps trying out the latest scrapbooking technique. Maybe even try out some domestic experiments such as baking chocolate chip cookies ( trying out a new recipe from one of my many, many cookbooks! ).

The grossly inedible ( possibly poisonous ) batches I'd feed to the neighbour's dog. Or to that tiresome, gossipy neighbour.

Hey, I said I'd be a househusband. Never said I'd be a saint.

Then it's off for a bit of grocery shopping. Perhaps if I find a particularly tasty rack of lamb, that's be the main course that night. if not there's always the trusty chicken fillets that I can serve in a jiffy. Then I'd join the leisurely ladies who lunch as the lad who could.

How could I possibly get bored? If there is still time after arranging the items alphabetically ( and according to colour scheme ) in the ginormous refrigerator, there are plenty of afternoon classes that I'd sign up for from pottery classes to tap-dancing lessons. Even to yoga - yes, I'd certainly need to be flexible. And I'm certain Jaunty Jared wouldn't mind teaching me some kickboxing. I'd need that to fend off desperate housewives as I spirit my kid away from school just as the bell rings.

All my kiasuness has to go somewhere - and I guess my kids will benefit or suffer depending on how you look at it! Spring plays, recitals, bake sales, football games... I'm so there!

Drudgery? I think not. Sure there'd be hilarious domestic misadventures initially as I get used to the monotony of home life but I think I could grow to like the life of a househusband. Of course I'd still require a domestic maid. I don't scrub toilets and I hate oily, lard-encrusted woks.

Now go tell Calvin wouldja?