Diary of a Crap Housewife

by Jessica Rowe

  ‘Isn’t this exciting?’ I said, my sweaty, nervous hand clutching my daughter’s as we walk through the school gates for her first day. Allegra didn’t say anything as she looked around at the playground, taking in the bigger kids noisily playing handball. I was close to tears but I knew I needed to be brave for my baby girl. I was tempted to scoop her up into my arms and run away from this place. My school memories threatened to swamp me, taking my focus away from the separate and undoubtedly different steps and stumbles that lay ahead for my own precious daughter.

  Her father and I helped Allegra find the hook with her nametag stuck underneath it, and we gently took her giant schoolbag off her shoulders. Beneath the hook was a pigeonhole for her lunch box and Dora the Explorer water bottle. Remembering the teacher’s instructions for a quick goodbye, we both hugged our darling girl, before she lined up with her new classmates.

  The moment we were out of the gates, the tears that I’d been holding back started running down my cheeks.

  ‘She’ll be okay, Pussycat,’ said Peter, putting his arm around my shoulder and squeezing me tightly towards him.

  Soundlessly, I nodded, aware that if I said anything, I’d start sobbing. Of course, Allegra would be fine but I wanted to protect her from the bullies, the strict teachers, the friendship fights and the challenges of the classroom. But wait a moment, it had only been fifteen minutes since we’d dropped her at school. There was nothing to fix—yet! When Allegra was tiny, I was a ‘helicopter parent’ swooping in to help. Now I was at risk of becoming a ‘lawnmower parent’, ready to remove any obstacles ahead for my girl.

  At the end of day one, those challenges had already begun.

  ‘I don’t think I’ll go back to school tomorrow, Mummy,’ said Allegra.

  ‘Why not?’ I replied, trying to keep the anxiety out of my voice.

  ‘The teachers are bossy, sitting on the mat is boring, the bell is irritating and there is too much lining up.’

  I’m tempted to respond: ‘Welcome to the world and I agree wholeheartedly with all of your observations.’ Instead, I decided to keep it simple.

  ‘You have to go back tomorrow.’

  ‘But why?’

  ‘The government says you have to and Mummy will get into big trouble if I keep you at home.’

  ‘Well, I think Julia Gillard is stupid,’ responded my daughter.

  During Allegra’s first year at school, she came up with many more reasons about why she should be home-schooled! This reasoning has been adapted as she continues through the education system. And I keep explaining that homeschooling would be the worst idea as I have neither the talent nor the patience to be her teacher. And her complaints about school are valid; a lot of it is boring and even as a grown-up I still find it hard to sit quietly, especially when someone is giving me instructions. I hate being told what to do and have a perverse reaction to authority by doing the opposite of what I’m told. Is it any wonder that my eldest has also inherited some of my traits?

  # CRAPHOUSEWIFE

  What has changed since I was at school is that the unkindness of some children seems to start even earlier than I remember. In kindergarten, my daughter had already been introduced to the world of mean girls!

  Allegra had already put a cushion next to her pillow for me. Most evenings, I lie next to her in bed while she goes off to sleep.

  ‘I don’t want to go to school tomorrow …’

  ‘Oh, I know that feeling. There were times when I didn’t want to go to school,’ I say, stroking her blonde, thick, knotty hair.

  ‘I don’t want to go. I’m not a good learner. I’m the dumbest in the school …’ she said softly.

  ‘You are not, you are not, you are my bright shining star,’ I replied.

  ‘But Henrietta says I can’t play with her if I can’t count.’ ‘Well, how about playing with someone else?’ I say, already furious with this Henrietta.

  ‘Who?’

  ‘How about Roxy or Summer?’

  ‘But they’re playing with Henrietta as well,’ said Allegra. ‘Promise me you’ll help me to like school?’

  ‘I promise, my darling, my Sweet Pea. I promise …’

  ‘Are you crying, Mumma?’ asked Giselle, who at the age of three could already pick up on the changes in my voice.

  ‘No …’

  ‘Why does your voice sound like that?’

  ‘It’s just my tired voice, darling,’ I replied to Giselle, while I kept patting Allegra’s hair until I heard her breathing shift—at last she was asleep.

  Thankfully, the soft glow of the nightlight in the bedroom the girls shared wasn’t bright enough for them to have seen my tears. I was so tempted to let loose in the playground the next day as it seemed the nasty looks I’d been making at Henrietta hadn’t stopped her awful behaviour. Yes, I know this wasn’t terribly grown-up of me, but this girl had been causing Allegra such heartache since school began.

  I couldn’t even look at Henrietta’s mother at the school gate any more. She must have known that something was up since we used to chat while waiting for that loud bell to ring each afternoon. But I had been deliberately avoiding her as I’d never been good at confrontation. However, now I felt ready to face this woman as I was finding it harder and harder to keep my mouth shut. There had to be a way to sort this out because my strategy of telling Allegra to simply say, ‘Stop it, I don’t like it,’ and then walk away wasn’t working.

  It took every atom of self-control to stop myself from tripping up Henrietta when I saw her the next morning in the playground. I had decided to talk with the school principal who counselled me not to approach the parents directly (which was good advice) and that they’d handle it in the classroom. Their advice for my daughter and for any child that was being bullied was to keep going with the ‘Stop it, I don’t like it’ mantra. However, it’s hard to walk away when the person keeps following you. What do you do if the child doesn’t stop it? Rationally, I understood that this unpleasant little girl wouldn’t be the first bully in my daughter’s life. And I was determined to help Allegra develop the emotional tools to cope with tricky people but oh, how I would have loved to give her perpetrator a nasty pinch!

  # CRAPHOUSEWIFE

  Apart from managing pint-sized bullies, it can also be challenging getting on with the other parents. Some of these parents will become your close friends since you’re like-minded souls. Other parents you’ll like and happily talk to at the school gates, fete or sausage sizzle. But there are always those parents who are complete nightmares—just like their children. And it can be even more challenging when your kids start hanging out with these kids. Sometimes you just have to let these fledgling friendships run their course but at the same time keep organising other play dates with more ‘suitable’ children (hoping that these friendships will flourish).

  What are the best ways to navigate your way through the politics of the playground? I’ve done a survey of some school mums that I know and here are some of the strategies we’ve come up with.

  Only volunteer if you have the time and the inclination to help out at your child’s school. Don’t allow yourself to be ‘guilted’ into doing things, otherwise you’ll become resentful. Over the years, sometimes I was able to do more or less or nothing at all, depending on my work commitments.

  After leaving my television job, not only did I have more time to cause chaos at home in the mornings, but I could also volunteer at the school canteen. Heaven help the kids who had to eat my sandwiches! Thankfully the ever-patient canteen manager knew of my dodgy domestic reputation and had given me the important ‘meet and greet’ job. Basically, this means serving the girls their morning tea and big lunch, along with supervising the high-tech scanning system the students used to pay for their ice blocks and chips. When I spotted my youngest daughter’s beaming face, as she lined up with her little friends for morning tea, my throat caught.

  ‘Hello, darling! What would you like?’ I asked.

  ‘I love you
being here, Mummy …’ replied Giselle.

  ‘Me too. There’s nowhere I’d rather be, my Honey Bear.’

  Later, when I packed the hundreds of lunch orders, I wrote special notes for Allegra and Giselle on the front of their white paper bags. I drew a giant heart in black felt-tipped pen and inside the heart wrote, ‘I love you SO, SO much. Love Mummy!’ I’ve also managed to sneak in an extra chocolate chip cookie and gingerbread man into their lunch orders. The sense of satisfaction I got from these small acts took me by surprise and I loved that I was right there, right then.

  My husband also loved to help out if and when he could—he looked especially fetching in the yellow fluorescent high-visibility vest he wore supervising the carline for morning drop-off. The only complaint from the school was that because he enjoyed a chat, it could slow down the whole process. Peter also liked to do tuckshop duty because he got the best snacks from the team who ran the canteen. Often this was just as well because he doesn’t get them from me!

  However, if you can’t volunteer or aren’t willing to put your money where your mouth is, don’t complain about the efforts of those who are putting the hours into running the numerous fundraising activities. A close friend of mine, who is a banker and dynamo school volunteer, had an effective strategy for serial complainers. She suggested they set up their own committee to make sure their special ideas came to fruition. And the common response from these whingers? ‘Oh, we couldn’t possibly do that. We don’t have time!’

  Another capable friend of mine, who runs large corporations as well as the Parents and Citizens at her son’s school, has struggled to always keep the entire school community satisfied. The P&C (it’s also known as Parents and Friends in some states) is essentially a school-based organisation made up of volunteer parents, teachers and the school principal. It helps run the canteen and the uniform shop as well as raising money for the school. Some of the parents at my friend’s school had criticised the timing of school events, complaining that it was impossible for some mothers to make it to functions scheduled straight after school drop-off. My friend then organised for the next school fundraiser to be held early in the morning. But none of these complainers bothered to turn up to their specially requested event.

  And I understand how time-poor we all are, so it can be surprising to learn about many of the issues some parents waste their valuable time on. I’ve heard of a school where there was much ado about the Easter egg raffle. A small but bolshie group of parents wanted the annual raffle boycotted because there was ‘too much chocolate at Easter’ (isn’t chocolate the point of Easter?). Another group decided that it wasn’t fair to have a raffle, as it meant some children would miss out on ‘winning’ the eggs. The compromise? The classes of concerned parents had their own raffle that awarded first, second and third prizes of Easter eggs, but also gave out eggs to each and every child. Here’s my disclaimer for this group of class parents: I’m guilty of being one of those parents who makes sure there’s a present for every child hidden in the newspaper layers of Pass the Parcel. Once, I even stole another child’s Pass the Parcel present to keep my then tiny daughter happy!

  But it’s not only Easter eggs that can be controversial—Mother’s Day stalls and Father’s Day breakfasts can also be political minefields for parents. One school wanted to cancel their Mother’s Day stall, as some mums thought it was ‘sexist’ for mums to be running a stall! The complaint was that ‘it sent the wrong message to our children that mothers had to be in charge of Mother’s Day!’ Some dads had volunteered to ‘man’ the stall but thanks to this vocal minority of mums, all the mothers missed out on getting a re-gifted soap or candle from the stall! This same school also had issues for Father’s Day, as this same group thought it was ‘unfair’ for mothers to run the sausage sizzle because not enough fathers had volunteered to run the Mother’s Day stall.

  Bake sales can be another battleground for parents. One of my friends, who like me is ‘cooking challenged’, finds it hard to ignore the pressure of replying to all the emails from parents about upcoming cake stalls. Recently, her inbox was inundated with a flurry of messages from parents keen to show off their ability in the kitchen.

  ‘Isabella and I will make sugar-free, nut-free, dairy-free, gluten-free honey, oat and quinoa squares.’

  This email was quickly followed by: ‘Joseph is going to do his savoury zucchini bread.’

  But before my friend had finished reading about 10-year-old Joseph’s proficiency in the kitchen, there was another ping in her inbox.

  ‘I have a fab recipe for blueberry and lemon friands. Shall I do 16? 24? What?’

  Now this bragging about baking continued with emails all day, including some from parents who wrote: ‘It’s unfair to have a cake sale as some children are allergic to cakes.’

  But cake-making doesn’t need to be a competitive sport, in much the same way that children’s birthday parties don’t need to be, which are becoming bigger, better, brighter than I ever recall having or seeing as a little girl.

  When I was growing up, we had the occasional birthday party with fairy bread, lollies and cake but nothing like the extravaganzas that some parents organise today. Some mothers seem to forget that the party is about their child and not themselves. Or perhaps I’m sounding slightly snippy about it because I’ve never been a confident party hostess, for either big or little people.

  Please, please don’t get caught up in the party pressure. For me, the best kids’ parties involve soft drinks, plenty of lollies with some wedges of watermelon to placate those parents who aren’t fans of sugar! But it’s easy to say ignore the pressure and then still get hijacked into doing the giant jumping castles, the face-painting mermaids and fairies and the portable popcorn and slushy machines. I’ve done all of that and more because I would do anything for my babies. And I want to give them everything that I missed out on when I was growing up. But what I never missed out on was love—I always knew that I was loved. And no amount of smoke, mirrors and Taylor Swift impersonators will ever replace the safety of unconditional love.

  ‘Oh, I like your theme!’ said a school mother to me, as she dropped off her girl to my daughter’s birthday party.

  ‘I beg your pardon?’ I replied.

  ‘Your theme, I really like your party theme. You’ve gone retro!’

  ‘Ohhhhh, right,’ I said, still confused.

  Once I’d drunk some pink creaming sofa, I laughed out loud, realising that my ‘theme’ of soft drinks in plastic cups, Cheezels and bowls of lollies qualified as a retro party!

  In my attempts to avoid hosting kids’ parties, I’ve ended up having birthday celebrations eight months late. My eldest daughter was born in January and so over the years, many of her friends have been away when it’s her birthday. Sometimes I’ve managed to skip having a party; however, Allegra will remind me around August that she would still like to have a celebration. For some reason, when the girls were little there was a fad of the whole class being invited to the party. Thankfully, as my daughters have gotten older, that unwritten rule has changed and their parties have gotten smaller.

  Another way to avoid the birthday party pressure is bribery. Or perhaps a better way of putting it is to use incentives to persuade your child of the benefits of not having a party! A close friend has given her daughters the option of a big-ticket birthday present item versus having a party each year. Thankfully, over time, her children have smartly selected hermit crabs, tropical fish aquariums and cat accessories over hosting a party. Another option is hosting a party every second year. However, do whatever works best for you and your family without succumbing to the peer-group party pressure. Isn’t it bizarre that even as so-called adults, we can still be swayed by our peer group?

  Apart from the cost of putting on a party, there is also the cost of buying pressies for your children’s classmates. My daughters have a busier social life than I do with invitations to parties or play dates most weekends. One way of managing the cost of birt
hday presents is to consider setting a limit at the start of the year with the other parents. A girlfriend of mine says her daughter’s class have agreed on a $20 present limit. Sensible stuff. Unfortunately, I’ve never been good at being sensible but I’m going to suggest this to our class group soon.

  Also, keep it simple when it comes to the cake. I’m always looking for shortcuts and the best types of cakes are the ones you can buy from the supermarket. But if you fancy yourself as a cake decorator, buy a plain sponge cake, cut it into any shape you like and decorate it with colourful icing, freckles, lollies or whatever your child likes. Play to your skill set rather than succumbing to the expectation to make everything from scratch. Life is far too short wasting it on cakes that will never rise properly!

  BANANA AND COCONUT BREAD

  I have a sweet tooth and if I had my way, every meal would begin with some type of sugar component. What I love about this banana and coconut bread recipe is that my girls have helped me make it since they were tiny, so it has lots of happy memories for us! It’s also a quick and easy way to get rid of those brown bananas that can clutter up your fruit bowl. The recipe is courtesy of style and food guru Paula Joye.

  Ingredients

  ⅓ cup melted butter

  3 large ripe bananas (smashed)

  1 cup brown sugar

  1 beaten egg

  1 tsp vanilla

  1 tsp baking soda

  pinch of salt

  1½ cups of all-purpose flour

  ⅓ cup of shredded coconut, plus shredded coconut to sprinkle

  Method

  No need for a mixer for this recipe, which is another winning ingredient for me! Preheat the oven to 175 degrees Celsius. With a wooden spoon, mix melted butter into the mashed bananas in a large mixing bowl.

  Next, mix in the sugar, egg and vanilla. Sprinkle the baking soda and salt over the mixture and mix in. Add the flour and coconut and mix.