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xAllan Clews

xDiary of a househusband

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Pointers to parenthood

You know you're a seasoned parent when:

You are no longer deceived by their angelic faces and know that they are really capable of sinister and demonic acts

They look up at you, their large brown eyes begin to moisten and their lips quiver "please" and you find yourself strangely unmoved, as you utter "no" for the 16th time in three minutes.

You're far more concerned about the ruined tights, than the scraped knees. Skin will heal for free, while a new pair of tights will set you back £1.99.

You no longer mention St Nick's kind, generous nature and mutter "He's making a list, he's checking it twice, he's going to find out who's naughty or nice" with a strong emphasis on the word "naughty".

You've spent so much time hanging around at the pool while your children have their swimming lessons that the place almost seems as familiar as your own living room.

You realise that grey hair really is genetic. In some mysterious process of reverse mutation you get it from your children.

You think that the person who invented television should be canonised or at least given some sort of posthumous honour for creating a device that can quickly put even the most hyperactive child into a deep trance.

The hairdresser quietly tells you that your daughter has head lice and your mind doesn't immediately fill with thoughts of shame and humiliation - only exasperation, as you feebly cry: "Not again".

You start longing for a baby, not because you really want a baby. It's just that you like the idea of having at least one child who doesn't talk back.

You no longer fearfully leap to the scene of every scream - only those with the distinctive wail of pain, or the subtle sub-vocal inflections that lead you to believe that murder or grievous bodily harm is about to occur.

Cries of "It isn't fair" no longer make your heart throb for justice and instead invoke the weary response: "Who said life was meant to be fair?".

Your children actually do believe you when you tell them you have eyes in the back of your head. This is because their behaviour has become so predictable.

You find yourself fantasising about studying French with your spouse - not because you have a burning desire to learn that language - but simply because you would like to be able to talk to your spouse in a way that was totally incomprehensible to your children.

You have no moral qualms about raiding the kids' piggy bank for bus fare when they're in school and simply leaving an IOU in place of the absconded coins. Then feeling absolutely no guilt when angrily confronted with this piece of paper days later.

You no longer feel mortally wounded when someone screams at you on the high street and lets everyone know that "you're so mean and horrid" and have even managed to turn this phrase into a tactical weapon. When the inevitable "Why not?" arises, rather than trying to provide a rational explanation for your highly contested decision, you simply turn the tables on them as you smile and say: "Because I'm so mean and horrid".

You've stopped believing that schools were crypto-fascist organisations set up by big business to train children to be prompt,

obedient workers. And now know that they were really set up to help preserve parental sanity and this is why there are so many breaks. They're purposefully designed to keep us in line by giving us a glimpse of what life would be like if schools didn't exist.

You no longer think teachers are under-worked and overpaid and now realise that they should all automatically be considered for a knighthood upon retirement.

If you have any comments you would like to make, contact features@ycp.co.uk

24/03//00

Converted for the new archive on 30 June 2000. Some images and formatting may have been lost in the conversion.