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derechofalls · 6 years

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Childcare: UK Dad Knows this One Great Trick!

Ask any stay-at-home wife who looks after kids, and she’ll tell you exactly how hard her job is, right? But what really goes on when she stays at home and their partner works?

Women are tough. They give birth. They drink nasty, weird shots. They live longer. Are men that tough? Are they tough enough to stay at home with children kind of tough? Am I that tough? Like, Ed Miliband tough? The prognosis is not good.

When I get home from work sometimes the house looks like the end of an episode of 90’s kids TV show Fun House. It’s strewn with toys, clothes, plates, and other detritus. I see last night’s washing up, half-finished art projects, nylon princess dresses and shattered plastic tiaras. Often, I’m relieved I don’t have to be there to witness whatever carnage led to it.

A burning question I have is whether I’ll be able to deal with the noise, the nagging, and the endless nonsense when it’s my turn to do all this, permanently, in a couple of months’ time. Would a Darwinist adaptation take place in me, leaving me able to cope? Or, would I soon be begging to go back to how it was? I think I now have an answer.

Get this: For three days now, I’ve been testing the waters of being a stay-at-home man-mum with two children and so far, it’s a doddle. Since my wife left to go on a girly holiday the house has been consistently immaculate, the kids are happy and calm, and even I, myself, am in a state of deep domestic zen. So, what is it, housewives? Am I a child-care genius or what? Should I write a book about this? What’s my secret? Well stay with me, and I’ll share my thoughts.

Whether you’re a newby or a battle-hardened childcare veteran, you know the situation out there is ruthlessly brutal. The battlefield shows you no mercy - but it’s time to get organised and fight back. Join me – we’re going to take back control.

The first thing I did was arm myself to the teeth with everything I needed for my specific children – a one year old and a six-year-old. An array of weapons, from chocolate treats and DVDs I can bribe, barter, and curry favour with, to a deep cachet, a heavy war chest, bursting with hard hitting field artillery. Stuff that can seemingly come from nowhere and transform the outcome of any battle. I’m talking about balloons, bubbles, magnets, and a light, soft bouncy ball. Think of the stuff you already have in your house a one year old would love to tinker with – tin foil, wooden spoons, a tennis ball, an egg timer – it’s all there waiting to weaponised and whipped out if you need a decoy to buy you some time. Time?

Yes, time. Remember when you had time? Now you’re going to make every second count. If you have no time, you’re doing it wrong, because I have loads. Planning and speed is everything. For example, I never eat a meal unless I’ve blitzed the washing up first. Using a dish washer? You’re wasting time. It takes me 90 seconds to clean four saucepans and all other cooking paraphyllia I’ve just used by hand in hot water I’ve prepped while cooking. Make planning ahead a habit. You need to wash up before you eat while the objects are hot, or else that 90 seconds will turn into 15 minutes if you let substances cool and become stubborn. The same with used plates, cutlery, or mugs – they’re washed minutes after use in seconds. Piles of washing up? Gone. Boom. Well done, soldier – you’ve got your first campaign under your belt and taken the kitchen back.

How much time do you spend walking around your house? How many times have you trundled around it today not achieving much? Now I’m going to give your pointless meandering purpose: *never* travel domestically without transporting an object that belongs in another part of the house closer to its home. Never. Make this a habit. If you blitz cleaning fast and make every journey count, the mess just evaporates. See it, Say it, Sort it, as the British Transport Police say. A mantra that not only applies to bombs, but also to yoghurt pots, empty glasses, and estranged felt tips. By bedtime, there’s nothing out of place; nothing left to tidy up, so after bed time you can do whatever you want. Can’t find an object’s home, or don’t know what it is? Into the bin goes. Well done Sir/Ma’am: here’s your second medal. The war is constant, but your house is clear, and now, so are your evenings. Pour some wine - you’ve earnt it, soldier.

Finally, I never give the six-year-old anything for free. Nothing. When she wants something, I make her negotiate, hard. I make her tidy, clean, or improve something first to earn whatever she wants. Getting her to tidy up a corner of the house frees up even more time for me. I can escalate this tactic to take the other child out of the equation too by tasking her to play with or read to the one year old. Family time? Done. Inter-sibling communication and bonding? Yep. Great parenting! And because you’ve been smart - you’re free. Again!

This stuff is easy. Don’t get stressed, get smart. Don’t panic, get planning. Don’t faff - be fast - super fast - and you’ll take back the space and time that’s rightfully yours.

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