Back to work

Due to my contract terms with my previous employer, a condition in taking maternity leave were that I would need to return to work for one calendar month before proceeding with my career break..
Fine okay. Plans were put in place for The Man to take annual leave to care for my two Angels and that in effect our roles would reverse for this month of duty..
Well, well how this time would enlighten me to the life of a working woman with a stay at home Dad. Totally Yummy methinks.
Of course I would now be expecting The Man to perform this job to the same standard of the previous employee (me) and ensure that the running of the home is smooth and obviously as immaculate as I manage week on week … Little did I know what a tall order this would be…
The Man’s first reaction to the bullet point daily schedule that I had presented him with was a smile and laugh with the attitude that I was plain mad and obviously have too much time on my hands to have complied this home aid for his use. Clearly he thought that Child/home responsibilities were going to be a doddle. Punk
I must admit the first week I was in my element. As was He. No more night shifts for me seeing to Infant son, and thankfully no more small chat with the other parents at the school gate.. I was a real grown up again.. Ignoring the fact that no cleaning or washing seemed to be moving and that The Man had clearly given up shaving - getting to wear tidy suits and flawless make up made up for these niggles.. Life felt good. At the end of the day kisses were planted on my cheeks by my Angels and off to bed they went.
Oh how easy.
By the second week The Man was starting to show signs that the “Dad at home” novelty was wearing thin.. Bags under eyes and a new dishevelled look, The Man was not happy. Nor were the family wardrobes, by now we were all pulling on the back of cupboard reserves as all decent clothing was in overflowing wash basket. Admittedly I couldn’t help my smugness at his impending decent from ‘cocky Man thinks staying at home is easy’ stance. But I begin to worry as son seems to be wearing daughters pjs.
Week three and four I receive constant text’s from the Man exclaiming my brilliance at childcare/cleaning and pleas for him to go back to work.. All of course I relished in.. but I have to say it, the novelty for me was wearing thin too… I had began to hate fellow commuters again and I am ashamed to say was begrudging pushchair users for travelling before nine narrowing my eyes as they rolled over my kitten heels … Yes I wanted the dirty nappies back.. the normal rational husband…and of course the ballet pumps.
On my return home I am cruel… I lead the wreck of a man into believing that I like the change and suggest that we both work part time to share the childcare… he promptly turns a shade of green that only sambuca can usually achieve.. I take pity and advise The Man that he is off the hook and that I will return to normal duties with the precaution that there is a lesson learnt from his time as ‘Me’ The Man returns to usual colour and showers me with compliments..
What a result… Yummy me? Apparently!