work Archives - Big Angry Trev!

So here I am, six months into my new career as Househusband. And I have started having dreams.

No, not the recurring dream I’ve had for the last 15 years, where I am in a toy store finding all these rare Transformers, but whenever I get to the checkout my basket is empty. Nor the dream where all the girls I went to High School with think I am now unbearably sexy, but my car breaks down on the way to the orgy. Not even the dream with all the flying teeth, the marmoset and the repeating accordion music.

No, in these dreams I have gone back to work.

*Dreams where you are at work AND still in your pajamas are just the worst!*

The dreams are all pretty much the same. I’ve slunk back to my old place of work in order to take up the career I left behind. I’m trying to do the best I can at my job, whilst anxiously trying to avoid the gaze of my bosses – which come to think of it is what I was always trying to do when I actually did work there (and every other place I was ever employed).

I know what is behind these dreams. It’s not a desire to go back to my old career – its guilt.

That’s right, guilt. I stay at home while my wife goes off to work and it’s getting to me.

I’m wondering if other Househusbands experience this kind of guilt. Perhaps it dates back to the cavemen. The caveman went out during the day, defending the home from sabre-toothed tigers and clubbing huge hairy mammals into submission to bring back for the cavewoman to skin and cook up. And thousands of years later my man instincts are telling me that I should be the provider, making sure there is meat on the table for my woman and offspring. Certainly the few male friends I’ve made since we moved up here have manly jobs – most of them work in the mines. They break rocks while I play dollies with my daughter. Yes I have big plans on how to make money out of our farm, but those will take years to bear fruit. Does that make me the equivalent of an unemployed drummer, living off his girlfriend while he assures her that ‘one day our band is gonna be big baby!’?

*‘Get out and do some manly work ya bum!’*

All sounds very misogynistic I know, but I don’t think that’s exactly where my brain is coming from. It’s not that I have any problem with my wife working. I don’t feel that she should be at home – it’s I feel I should be out working. When I was the one working, my wife still had income coming into the family home via maternity leave pay. I’ve gone from an annual 6 figure income to a 3 figure one – not exactly a ‘pay off the house’ wage. On the upside it’s helped me keep away from cigarettes, no way can I justify spending my wife’s hard earned money on cancer sticks for myself. On the downside, it means that financially we rely on her completely, which my subconscious tells me is not fair on my beautiful bride.

Maybe it’s a ‘not having a job’ thing. I’ve either being doing educational courses or working (or often both) since I was 16. To not be studying and to not be going to a place of employment – it’s great but again… those dreams.

*‘Protect me from the nightmares with your cuteness Mr. Milo!’*

Part of me is telling my subconscious to shut the hell up. That I enable my wife to be able to work. I make her coffee every morning and pack her lunch. I take care of the kids and the house while she is out and then cook her dinner every night. I make sure she has clean clothes to go to work in, though the one job I always still ask of her is folding and ironing – I’m pretty crap at both.

But then another part of me is saying that that part it is full of shit. My wife could easily make her own coffee & she could go to a cafe during her lunch break. We could get babysitting for the kids on the days they are not at preschool. We could share the cooking, washing and general household chores. That part yells that my wife could still work without me being at home, that I’m just making excuses.

So what is the answer? I don’t know. I certainly can’t go back to my old career – it was in another state and we aint moving again any time soon. Our new location is so remote there are very few jobs to be had and even if there were there are no dedicated daycare facilities for the kids up here. And this farm actually does take a lot of looking after – 120 acres does not just care for itself.

So maybe I need to feed the part of me yelling at my subconscious some rare steak, some raw eggs and a few beers so it can beef up and drag my subconscious into my brains equivalent of a back-alley to kick seven shades of shit out of it. Maybe I need to not be a deep-down misogynist and realise we are not cavepeople and it doesn’t need to be me subduing the sabre-tooth tiger. Maybe I need to take the long view and remember that when both our kids are at school in a couple of years I’ll be in a position that I can bring money into the household once again.

Or maybe I need to stop whining, stop the self-guilt and be grateful for how good I’ve got it.

Are you a Househusband and experienced these feelings? Or maybe you can shed light on this kind of existential drama? Would love to read it in the comments section below!

Househusband Tales #1 – Pampering Poorly Perfected

Random Rants: It’s valid for you to feel stressed

There are lots of cool ages. When you turn 18 you are legally an adult – able to get pissed and drive at will (even if not at the same time). When you turn 21 it usually signals finishing your higher education and departing off into the big world. When you turn 30, it’s a celebration of surviving all the stupid shit you did in your teens and twenties.

When you turn 40 however – it just means you are f*cking old

Well loyal readers, today I turn 40. And I can confirm it is not a cool age to turn. No teenager thinks turning the big Four Oh will be fun and they are right. I don’t feel cool, I don’t feel special, I don’t feel like I am on the cusp on a great adventure. What I do feel is a tiredness in my limbs, a soreness in my back and a general irritation with the world.

(Writers note: I wrote the above a few days beforehand so I would have this piece ready. Now it’s the actual day I’ve been spoiled rotten by my family and received a slew of well wishes from people so it is actually making my day pretty damn cool. However it would ruin the theme of the piece so lets just pretend I’m still not feeling special eh?)

So what the hell happened? How did this happen to me? I mean, I remember being young and looking at people like me, thinking why and how could they give up?! And young Trev is still inside, looking out through these tired old eyes, feeling like a young man trapped in an old farts body. I used to party all night and play video games all day. I used to sleep with stranger’s, drink and smoke near anything passed my way, get into fights with buddies and then wake up the next day feeling a million bucks to do it all over again. Now I go to bed sober at a decent hour and I still wake up tired. What. Happened. To. Me?

In fact, let’s have a look at the progression of my life in some key categories.

Drinking

Teens: Any alcohol our fake ID’s could get us

Twenties: Scotch & Cokes at the pub

Thirties: Beers with mates

…and now: Cup’o’Soup before bed

Music

Teens: Whatever was on MTV

Twenties: Whatever was on Rage

Thirties: Whatever was on Triple J

…and now: ‘Hey Diddle Diddle, the cat and the fiddle’

Parties

Teens: Getting pissed at 18^th’s

Twenties: Getting munted at 21^st’s

Thirties: Dinner parties with friends

…and now: Driving my kids to other children’s birthdays

Work

*My brief stint as a night porter in Scotland*

Teens: Below minimum wage at a fruit shop

Twenties: Minimum wage Security Guard

Thirties: Decently paid Departmental Employee

…and now: I clean my wife’s house

Travel

Teens: Interstate trips to theme parks

Twenties: Backpacked around Europe

Thirties: Honeymoon to Vanuatu

…and now: To the shops and back

Video Games

Teens: Street Fighter II on the Super Nintendo

Twenties: Halo on the Xbox

Thirties: Fall of Cybertron on the PS3

…and now: Hoping for a nap while my son plays the PS4

Women

Teens: I made my girlfriends laugh

Twenties: I made the ladies swoon

Thirties: I made my wife smile

…and now: I make my daughters bed

It first really sunk in I was getting older about 3 years ago. Back in my twenties, when I had a gleam in my eye, an ever-present bulge in my trousers and a six-pack under my shirt, I used to get my hair elaborately done at the hairdressers at least every six weeks. I used to really enjoy it too; I always had two or three of the young women on staff hanging about while I made them laugh and unashamedly flirted. Used to walk out looking great, feeling great and more often than not having charmed my way into getting a nice big discount.

Three years ago I was getting my tips done blond when the hairdresser said ‘Oh it’s so great when men your age get this done – my step-father gets his done and it really helps hide the grey’.

*‘No really, its my natural hair colour’*

The look of horror on my face said it all as I had been unaware that I had any grey hairs! Also, this girl was comparing me to her father figure?! Yep – if I had dusted off my old flirt-circuits she would have no doubt classified me as an old creep and locked the door as I left – no discounts for old fart Trev.

So are there any upsides to getting this old? The main three I can think of are that you are less of a dickhead, less inclined to tolerate bullshit and are more self-reliant. These days I actually think before I open my mouth to say whatever random thought passes through this oddly-wired brain of mine, and getting naked in public is truly a thing of the past. I won’t cop shit or tolerate bullshit – I quit a job because of something that happened to me and I knew that if I continued to work there my self-respect wouldn’t allow me to look in the mirror anymore – that was a very depressing time for me. As for self-reliance, it may have taken me decades longer than some males but now I only call a tradie as a last resort. I always try to build it or fix it myself and if I can’t then I watch how the tradie does it so I can do it myself from that point on.

So today for the first time I look in the mirror and a forty year old man looks back at me. It’s been a helluva ride. I’ve traveled the world and learned how to order a beer in a dozen languages. I’ve had a Uni Radio Show, appeared on Television, Sworn on the Big Screen and done Stand-Up Comedy at the Edinburgh Fringe Festival. I’ve been painfully thin then fat then buff then… kinda flowing. I’ve lived in Melbourne and London and even returned to the Mallee for a while. I’ve lost my parents but had children of my own. I’ve become the sum of my experiences…. which somehow has turned me into a Blog Writing, Hobby Farming, Househusband and Father who spends his days looking after his kids and propagating plants. Doesn’t sound much but really when you think about it, having a loving wife, beautiful son & daughter, a big house in the hills (even if it’s not mine) and only working for others when I feel like it – I may have not become the megastar I thought I would but I could have done a lot worse that’s for sure.

So what pearls of wisdom have I learned that can prepare others for turning the big Four Oh? Well… none. Nada, Zip, Zippo. It’s going to affect each one of you differently. I can’t say it feels any different to being 39 and to be honest in my head I’m still 25. All I can say is that yes, the concept of turning forty sucks…

…but it’s better than the alternative 😉

Are you about to turn forty or already have? Would love to commiserate with you in the comments section below!

Retraction: I have been contacted and instructed to remove certain opinions from this blog. Due to my leaving the comments in question so vague (no names, places, dates, any specifics at all) it has lead to someone mistakenly believing the comments referred to them. Therefore to avoid continued accidental offense the instructions received have been followed; the opinions are officially and publicly retracted and have been permanently removed from this site. bigangrytrev.com apologizes for any misunderstanding regarding this matter.

Big Angry Trev!

Tag Archives: work

Househusband Tales #5 – The dreams of guilt

Big Old Trev turns 40

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