Growing Pains of a Hapless Househusband (32 page)

Or she felt there was nothing she could do. She could have
sought help, but a part of her was revelling in her new self. I
think she enjoyed being nasty, and found it liberating. It was
only when she was sober that she realised quite how horrific the
mutation was becoming.

The gap between her two selves soon became so great that she
could no longer function. The more extreme the two selves, the
worse she became. At some point she had to snap, and that's
what must have happened on that lonely Friday night.

Her actions have made me think of a conversation I had
with her a short while ago. I was telling her that she was
starting to lose it, but she was insistent that it was me who had
the problems, that it was me who was living the lie, not her.

At the time I dismissed it, but now I think she was right.

As you know, over the past three weeks my programme
WonderHubby
has been airing. It's all about how I try to
help families by using the techniques of management
consultancy.

It's quite fun, I like to think, and has already earned me a
column in this great newspaper, as well as a regular slot on
Joseph and Mary. The programme has had some great
reviews and healthy viewing figures. There's already talk of
another series in the wings, and, before I forget to mention it,
I'm writing a book.

To put it mildly, it's been quite a change from my old life as
a househusband, in which I looked after my children Peter and
Daisy.

And that's the point, it's been a change. But has it been a
change for the better? Sure, I'm earning a lot more money than
before (in fact, I was earning none), but is there a gap between
the old Sam and the new Sam?

I think there is, and the reason is this. I've become a liar.
WonderHubby
is the biggest pack of lies that has ever
invaded your living room. What you see on the screen has NO
bearing at all on reality, and yet you are being told that it's one
hundred per cent true.

Well, let me tell you now. It's not. It's a load of crap, frankly.
And I'm responsible for it. What started off as a bit of fun has
now become deadly serious, and I've heard that there are some
people who really want to use my system to bring up their
children.

My advice to them is this: Don't. I tried it with my kids and
it doesn't work. The Venn diagram which shows Management
Consultancy and Childcare has no bit that meets in the middle,
not even a crumb.

What my friend did has made me aware that being two
people is just not a possibility. And I don't like the lying person
I'm becoming.

So, TV producers and agents and PR people, you can keep
all your deals and exciting offers. I just want to stay the same
old Sam. He may not be terribly rich, and he's probably a bit of
a fogeyish fart, but at least I like him. And so do my family.

All right. That's it. I'm off.

ALSO AVAILABLE IN ARROW

Sam Holden

One man's encounter with domesticity . . .

When father-of-two Sam loses his job, he (reluctantly) agrees to stay
at home while his wife returns to work. Secretly thinking this whole
parenthood thing a breeze of leisurely jaunts to the park, reading the
paper while the children play quietly and occasionally attending a
civilised play date or two, Sam quickly realises just what exactly
it means to be a stay-at-home parent.

Inevitably, domestic mayhem ensues. Just trying to get dressed in
the morning and out of the house without going to A&E is a feat,
as is managing the children's complicated play-date schedule
while fending off the unwelcome advances of Jodhpur Mum at the
playground. And Sam's foolproof 72-step Childcare Programme
doesn't seem remotely up to the task.

Desperate to get his life back on track, Sam seizes upon a variety
of mad schemes, but just as things look like they're beginning to
fall into place, he makes a very surprising discovery . . .

'A very, very funny and often touching account of one man's
struggle to try and run Planet Home.'
Allison Pearson, author of
I Don't Know How She Does It

ALSO AVAILABLE IN ARROW

Sarah Tucker

Meet Caroline Gray: divorcee and newly-single mother. Firmly
closing the door on her acrimonious divorce, Caroline and son Ben
have moved to the trendy town of Frencham where they join
Caroline's long-time best friends, Heather and Eva. Settling into
their new life is easy, but nothing has prepared Caroline for the
demands of motherhood at The Sycamore, the school the trio's
beloved offspring attend. Forget classroom bullies, forget trips to
the head's office, this is full-scale adult playground politics. This is
battle with the mothers who won't take no for an answer – the
Playground Mafia.

Amidst the four-wheel drives, Ben's complicated afterschool playdate
schedule and her friends' perilous extra-marital affairs,
Caroline tries to keep a low and very single profile. But it's not long
before she too finds herself under the mafia's scandal-radar, and
her life takes an unexpected turn . . .

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Sarah Tucker

There are 50 places at The Oaks, the best grammar school in the
area, and 1,000 children applying. Competition is fierce and
parents are prepared to do everything and anything to get their
child one of the coveted spaces. Absolutely anything . . .

Close friends Lily, Julie, Karen and Paul aren't overly concerned.
After all, aren't their children are bright and sociable enough? But
they're quickly shaken out of their complacency when enrolment
time approaches and turns out to be little more than a rigged lottery,
where only the most ruthless hold the cards. Marriages and
friendships crumble under the pressure, fake addresses abound and
tutors rates soar. And, of course, money passes hands like water,
between estate agents, local councillors and City fundraisers, all of
whom hold the purse strings for school funding.

As measures get extreme (well, down-right ridiculous really), the four
quickly rally their troops and throw themselves into the battle for big
school. Initially wary to be in competition with each other, they realise
that the only way of out-smarting the rest of the pack is by coming
up with a plan. Because getting their kids into The Oaks will demand
determination and strategy akin to Mission Impossible . . .

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Sarah Tucker

In school playgrounds across the country parents huddle in worried
packs, desperately putting together their final plans to survive the
summer weeks of mayhem – school is officially out!

For once, Amanda has a simple, cheap and fail-safe plan to make
it through the summer holidays with her three overexcited offspring.
But a last-minute addition of fellow-mum Suzanne and her perfect
son Orlando quickly shatters Amanda's vision of the quintessential
bucket-and-spade summer adventure.

In fact, before she even makes it to the picture-perfect Cornish idyll
that is home to her one-time playground comrade Skyler, Amanda
has to endure tantrums, floods, and an eerie B&B, all with three
ratty kids and a carsick dog in tow. When they finally arrive,
dishevelled and exhausted, she discovers that not only must she
endure Suzanne at close quarters in a cramped cottage, but also
that Skyler's business is in dire need of a helping hand.

In the weeks that ensue, Amanda discovers there is only one way
to survive the summer holidays, and that's with a stiff drink, a pair
of wellies and a bucket-full of bonhomie!

ALSO AVAILABLE IN ARROW

Fiona Neill

For Lucy Sweeney, motherhood isn't all astanga yoga and Cath
Kidston prints. It's been years since the dirty laundry pile was less
than a metre high, months since Lucy remembered to have sex
with her husband, and a week since she last did the school run
wearing pyjamas.

Motherhood, it seems, has more pitfalls than she might have
expected. Caught between perfectionist Yummy Mummy No 1 and
hypercompetitive Alpha Mum, Lucy is in danger of losing the
parenting plot. And worst of all, she's alarmingly distracted by Sexy
Domesticated Dad. It's only a matter of time before the dirty
laundry quite literally blows up in her face . . .

'This slice of angst and affluenza is several cuts above the rest
. . . witty, observant and supremely intelligent.'
The Times

'There is something of Bridget Jones's hopeless-but-adorable
quality about Lucy . . . Neill's hilarious depiction of the manifold
daily perils of stay-at-home motherhood is so convincing that it
soon looks like the most challenging job in the world – and Lucy
is all the more sympathetic simply for staying afloat.'
Daily Telegraph