The Stay at Home Slave…

Posted by on Nov 25, 2015 in Very Important Stuff | No Comments


I haven’t watched, read the synopsis or seen any advertising for the Academy Award winning film 12 Years a Slave, but my guess is it’s about a stay at home dad who lives with his wife, 2 kids and dog. Following him through the drama of everyday life, it covers life’s big problems; everything from his wife’s unrealistic expectations of his shopping abilities to the entire house’s distaste for emptying the rubbish bin. Most days he finds himself in the kitchen washing dishes and mumbling such catchphrases under his breath like “how the fuck are there 11 dirty cups since last night” and “how in living shit does it take 17 utensils and 3 electrical appliances to make a sandwich?”

Inspired by my assumption of the movie’s plot, and for the good of stay at home parents everywhere, I have decided to pen letters to each member of my family in order to vent my frustrations, dog included. I hope they don’t take it the wrong way as I have no intentions of going back to a real job (my old boss never let me nap during Mister Maker), I just need to get some things off my chest.

Kristina – To my dear Queen, your beauty knows no bounds. Also…did you know that tampon wrappers are also considered rubbish and can be thrown in the bin like any other waste product? Hiding them in the toilet roll holder is frowned upon in many countries…so is pretending they are a colourful toy so that Iggy drags them around the house.

I know that it looks like taking the recycling bin out to the big bin is a hobby of mine, but when I started I was hoping it would be a hobby we could share. Now it seems your hobby is stacking large recyclable items on top of the bin or on the tv cabinet above said bin when it’s full…I feel bad bringing it up, maybe I’m just jealous because you’re so good at it.

On occasion you bring a plate up from your office and forget to rinse it, this doesn’t bother me greatly…what does bother me is the dirty tissue that is often left on the plate. Before you start, my definition of “often” is more than once. I love you, I will never tire from exchanging saliva with you, but no human wants to touch another human’s dirty tissue.

Lastly, when I go shopping, I promise I don’t forget everything you wanted on purpose. Running out of butter and tissues is not to be interpreted as some sort of “fuck you” personal attack. If I wanted to say “fuck you” I’d forget to buy condoms and make you suffer without my perfect body for 36 hours.

 Iggy – You are currently very lucky to have the excuse of being 3, but today this excuse doesn’t offer you a free pass. If you don’t wish to eat something anymore but have some left, please don’t hide it in, or under the couch. Our vacuum is good but not half a muesli bar good. At the same time please don’t assume that because you don’t want it anymore that you can just throw it in the bin…like you have obviously done with the remote control for the television.

Now that we are in the very final stages of toilet training, I was under the expectation that if you wet the bed you would let me know…not wake up in the morning after a few hours of piss soaked sleep and casually let me know that some of your stuffed toys drowned in the middle of the night. I don’t need you screaming bloody murder at 3am but if you just want to pop in and politely let me know that you’ve been reenacting James Cameron’s Titanic that would be appreciated.

Juliet – Being 12 and testing the boundaries of my love’s breaking point is clearly your sport of choice…but you know I’ve never much been into sport. Now I know you’re at a fragile age so I’m going to write my issues down here whilst using positive reinforcement.

I love that your morning routine consists of leaving a hairbrush on the towel rack, your book at the breakfast table and spilling milk on the floor. Imagine how much happier you might be though if I didn’t have to ask you every single morning to correct these tiny little easy to fix problems…love you.

Also on towels, I’m so happy you shower daily, we’re really proud of you…but maybe if there is only one towel on the rack, used, and not yours, maybe you could get another towel? I know you like experiments so last week I did one, in 4 days nobody in the house grabbed another towel…4 days…one towel…love you.

I’ve often admired your dedication to cutting your toenails…let’s just agree that Iggy’s dress up clothes box isn’t a bin for cutoff toenails though. Also when your mum and I tell you that to your face, I’m sorry you mishear and think we want an eye rolling competition…love you.

Lastly, despite what you may think, when I cook, every-single-night, I don’t plan to make food that saddens you; quite the opposite. I only wish to make you all happy. If you continue to screw your face up at some of my meal choices I will have no option but to serve up Marlboro Lights and meal replacement shakes for dinner…love you.

Robert – Despite what Juliet tells you, I don’t hate you. In fact, I love you. Want to know what nobody loves? A dog that lets out 1 sharp bark every 2 minutes from 5.30am. You are not a glorious morning rooster alarm clock. I know, you can smell that I’m JUST about to fall back to sleep so you let out another yelp…what a gift you have. I firmly believe that if our neighbour owned a gun, you would be dead.

I also request that you protect our yard from the possums that feast on my vegetable garden. Yet again this morning I go out and find what looks like a picnic area dedicated to the happiness of local possums; dead in the center are a large helping of my freshly picked tomatoes…are you running some type of night time possum daycare? Do you want me to buy the neighbour a gun?

Lastly…please locate one area in the backyard as a dedicated toilet. Stop shitting in front of the cubby. Stop shitting on the tiles. Stop shitting literally everywhere that I am likely to put my foot.

That’s it…feels so good to get it all off my chest. I bet writing this down is going to fix everything. I imagine when Kristina reads it she’ll run upstairs into my arms and tell me how right I am and how I deserve special adult showers for being so honest with my feelings. Just as a precaution though, if I die, please forward this post to the detective in charge of the investigation.


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