Before we got married, Mike and I talked
about the children we would have in the hazy imagined future. “I’d love to be a
full-time dad,” he said, dreamily. “Great,” I replied. “I’ll gestate the foetus
and you can bring it up!” I was only half joking. I was maternal, but couldn’t
imagine life without work. Financially it made sense: I’m a writer, he’s an
actor, so neither of us exactly had stable wages, but my income was more
reliable than his.
Erin
with her husband Mike, and their daughter Marnie
When, in November 2008, our daughter Marnie
was born, my priorities changed overnight. I wanted to be with her all the
time. She slept with me. I wore her in a sling around the house. I didn’t even
trust anyone else to push the pram. I took on the odd freelance commission and
Mike went up for auditions, but the jobs he was offered would have taken him
away from home for months. Then, when Marnie was nine months old, I landed a
book deal for The Poison Tree, the novel I’d written when I was
pregnant. The publishers wanted a second book – fast. Our options were either
that Mike got a job to cover the nursery fees, or he became her carer. It took
us about three seconds to decide.
The first day was difficult. I work from
our attic and I developed the hearing of a bat, flinching at every stumble or
cry from downstairs. I missed her like mad. I looked at her baby pictures on my
computer and I didn’t write a word. Two hours in, Mike brought Marnie up to the
office. “You have to take her,” he said. “I need a shower.” “I’m working,” I
said, trying not to shout. “You’ll have to wait until she’s asleep.” Before
long, they were back. “I need to go to the bank. Can you have her?” I thought
of the times I’d dragged her to the bank and hairdresser, even holding her on
my lap in the dentist’s chair. Marnie held her arms up to me. Every instinct
told me to turn off my computer and take over, but I fought it. He’d have to
learn just as I had, by cocking it up and losing his temper and having
meltdowns in Waitrose, but slowly becoming the world expert on her.
Interestingly,
Mike’s friends are more jealous than mine – of him not having to work and
getting to spend so much time with his daughter
Marnie is three years old now, and our
set-up is well and truly established. Mike has a small monthly allowance from
the joint account. I try very hard not to think of it as ‘mine’ and almost
always succeed. Interestingly, Mike’s friends are more jealous than mine – of
him not having to work and getting to spend so much time with his daughter. The
flashpoints are not what people might imagine. Friends assume I shoulder the
bulk of the housework but the opposite is true: Mike’s borderline
obsessive-compulsive with his Dyson and the washing-up, and I sometimes feel
like a guest in a show home. I do cook almost everything: it’s the one domestic
arena over which I still exert control.
When I was the housewife and Mike was the
breadwinner, we argued most days about who had or hadn’t done what around the
house. Now we clash much less frequently. Our roles are more clearly defined
and there is less to row about. Of course, it isn’t perfect: it drives me mad
when Mike spoon-feeds Marnie in front of the TV; and there was the time I came
back from a five-day work trip to find that he hadn’t brushed her hair the
whole time and she had dreadlocks. He resents the way I sweep in and give
orders at the end of a long day.
And I’d be lying if I said it didn’t break
my heart when she falls over and calls for him, not me (although it’s always me
she wants when she wakes in the night: thanks, kid). The truth is, this set-up
plays to both of our strengths. I’m a solitary workaholic and, when I don’t
have time to myself to write, I’m snappy and impatient. I love Mike, but he’s
no Alpha Male; he’s never been motivated by money or defined himself by his
earning power. Of course, he gets the odd pang when one of his friends gets a
part in a TV show, or goes off on tour, but these are short-lived when weighed
against what he has. I can hear them downstairs now, listening to The Velvet
Underground and doing a jigsaw puzzle together. He pours love into her life
every day. I know she will feel the weight of it for the rest of her life.
