Hey, love, you wont believe the drama at the Nevilles house today. I was asked to sort something special for dinner no boring takeaways, nothing cheap and Im already juggling a million things. I slipped a silk scarf around my neck, gave the final polish to my powerladylook, and started barking orders at Andy.
Look, the balconys a duststorm, the laptops going to disappear under it. Give it a wipe, I said.
Andy, calm as ever, walked out of the kitchen with a kitchen towel slung over his shoulder, a freshly washed mug in his hand and a little apron over his tee. He tried to plant a quick kiss on my cheek, but I swatted him away, annoyed.
Do I have to tend the house too? Cant I just work in the office? I snapped.
You stopped working from home, thats why the dust piled up, he replied.
When you were home we could at least see you, I muttered.
Thank God thats over, I said, flicking my bag over my shoulder, feeling a bit proud. Clean, vacuum, tidy the toys, cook do it all and maybe say thanks?
He laughed it off. Dont worry about the laundry, the dishwasher does it, the robot vacuum handles the floors, and the kids well, theyre just being kids.
Great, if thats how you see it. Im more useful at the office than at home. Someone has to bring in the money, I said, slamming the door behind me.
My mornings are a welltimed machine: up at six, a quick run (Ive taken up jogging), contrast shower, breakfast, hair and makeup on the go. I beat the London rush by leaving early, as long as nothing holds me up at home.
A year ago Andys mornings were similar, except he liked to lounge a bit in the warm bed with me. His job was close, no traffic, and he was home by six or seven, helping me with dinner, cleaning up, playing with the girls and even tucking them in. Hed often help with the toys after bedtime.
Everything flipped a year back. Our younger daughter, Lucy, turned two and started nursery the endless sniffles of the adjustment period were finally gone. Our older girl, Emily, is in Year4 and now walks to the nearby school by herself, even catches the tram for her ballet lessons two stops, Andy taught her how.
At work they offered me my old office role back, promising a fast promotion. I thought about it for ages home was fine, but I craved the buzz of the office. I took it, and within three months Id got a first raise, then another, plus a flexible schedule that I loved. The kids hardly saw me, but Andy explained everything. I was exhausted, showing up late, drained, trying to be a perfect housewife, mum and wife all at once.
We sat down and talked. Andy didnt want to gripe; he understood there was no talk of me quitting. We decided to swap roles: Id focus on work without worrying about the house, and Andy would quit his job and take on the thankless domestic side.
Youll find something remote later, I coaxed him at first, feeling a bit embarrassed that hed have to cook porridge, hang and iron laundry, collect the kids, drive them to the dentist and speech therapist. Youll manage, I know you will.
Youre brilliant, he whispered, kissing the top of my head. Those were the last cosy evenings wed have together, because he kept saying, Youre doing great at both home and work.
Andy dove in fast. The endless texts about which towel goes where, what to wash, who to pick up at what time all stopped. He handled the chores without a whine, the girls didnt get on his nerves like I did after a long day, and at work I was finally recognised, respected by colleagues and managers, trusted with any task. The compromise let me thrive as both a professional and a woman, and my career shot up.
Youre late, dinners getting cold, Emily and Lucy said as I walked in from the office, tugging the silk scarf from my neck again. The day had been a maze of meetings and deadlines. Is the Nevilles dinner on?
What? I snapped, irritated by Andys silence.
You said
I glared at Andy like hed overstepped some invisible line.
I said Id do it on the weekend!
You mentioned today
Andy, have you forgotten how to listen to me? I snapped, storming into the living room. Whats this mess? Why didnt you change Lucys shirt? Who pulled the curtain? Did the kids play ball inside again? Cant they do that outside?
Andy, Emily and Lucy stood there, speechless. They hadnt done anything wrong, but I was fed up with the chaos.
Is this how you expected guests to see the place? I gestured at the mess.
Their kids understand, we were just playing, Andy tried to explain.
Look at yourself, mate! Unshaven, stretchedout tee, dazed eyes. I jabbed, still angry.
Andy, trying to stay light, winked at the girls. Lets head to the kitchen, Ill get you something. You exhausted? he asked sweetly.
Yes! Im fed up with this attitude! Cant you do what I ask? Even a simple thing like making tea? I snapped.
Make it yourself! Andy shouted, hoisting Lucy onto his back and lifting Emily like a feather. Were off to brush teeth, its late, they need sleep. Tomorrow school and nursery. By the way, Lucy had a photoshoot last week, the pictures have been on the mantel for two days. You didnt even notice.
They left, giggling. The kids chatter faded in the bathroom, then silence. Ten minutes later Andy returned to the kitchen, finding me still at the table, nursing my frustration instead of a hot cuppa.
Feeling better? he asked. Whats up? Work problems?
No! Works fine, its home thats a nightmare
Nikki, youre losing it! Andy leaned in, his tone firm. Im not your assistant or secretary. I never nagged you at home, even when there was cause. Youre not a robot; you can miss things, thats okay well sort it together.
Easy for you to say! I used to juggle the kids and work from home. Now theyre grown, they understand. You said the dishwasher, washing machine, ordering food why cant you handle the basics?
Andys jaw clenched, but he kept his cool.
What have you become? A useless housemanager? Youll end up with a belly of your own, I hissed.
Nikki!
Dont shout, I know what youre getting at, he muttered, heading to the bedroom, grabbing a pillow and tossing it into the hall, then shouting back, Tomorrow Im back at work! Find yourself another house helper.
Youre a wimp, giving up because of dirty plates, I shot back.
He slung his pillow over his shoulder and left the living room. I was furious, then realised he really couldnt go back to work tomorrow not yet. I didnt chase him that night, apologised in the morning, and agreed he needed time to find someone to pick up Lucy, drive the kids to appointments, etc. My wait a bit turned into three months of him being the defacto house manager, his tone at home becoming the new normal. I left daily task lists for him, checked them at night, and if anything was missing, both he and the girls got a stern talkingto.
Tomorrow youll pick up Lucy yourself, Andy declared one day.
And you?
I cant. Im out with friends.
Are you kidding? Im working till seven, eight, sometimes ten, and youre out drinking! I wont let you off! I have a big planning meeting at seven tonight.
Im not asking permission, Im informing you. Your days are all meetings and emergencies.
I said no!
Andy walked to the hallway, started putting on his coat.
Where are you going? I shouted, Im not letting you leave!
Im not your employee or housemaid. Bye. He slammed the door, and I tossed a string of insults after him.
He didnt come back that night. In the morning I sent him a list of things to do, who to pick up, where to go. He ignored it. Later that day a nursery teacher called, saying Lucy was the only child left I had to sprint across town to collect her, sending angry texts to Andy that went unanswered. He didnt come home that night either.
I was livid. I wasnt jealous or scared hed leave; who needed him? He was just another bloke whod disappear. But he kept silent, and I kept venting in texts. I had to manage everything myself. Two weeks later I was burnt out, nerves frayed, sleepless nights, disapproving boss, nannies pulling out one by one.
I called Andy, demanding he come back.
Ill pick the girls up at the weekend, but Im not returning, he said, hanging up. I was speechless. I couldnt believe hed actually say that. The kids heard my angry phone rant, calling me a terrible mother.
Later, Mom asked Emily about a stubborn stain on her white blouse. What did you do? she asked.
Just a bit of oxygen bleach, soaked in hot water, then a 40minute wash, Emily replied. It works every time, even on my white sneakers and Lucys dress spots.
I was going to toss it, Mom sighed.
Emily shrugged. Mom looked at the laundry guide, remembering all the tiny chores Andy used to handle so I could focus on my career.
They eventually divorced. I set up a schedule for the kids with Andy, who still had to collect Lucy from nursery and drive Emily to school. He did it calmly, never hearing the bosss nagging behind my back.
Mum, is Dad ever coming back? Emily asked one day.
Where could he be? Hell sit at Mums, but who needs him besides us? I replied confidently.
Emily walked away, knowing Dad wasnt returning.
Andy went back to his old job, remarried a year after the split clearly he found a new mop, I thought. Hed pop over for a week or two with the girls, which was fine.
The only thing that still irritated me was that my exhusband, now a nobody with no ambition, landed another decent gig quickly. Im successful, smart, attractive, but I never get a man who sticks around after the first date. Thats when I started looking inward, wondering what was wrong with me.
