The Accidental Trad Wife

Routine

I’m getting into a routine. 

I wake up with my husband when his alarm goes off, kiss him goodbye at the door as he heads off to work, then return to bed with a can of monster to sit and think about what I want to achieve during the day. 

The routine is nice. I wash up last night’s dinner dishes, give the kitchen a clean and then it’s a quick once over of the bathroom to keep it sparkling.  

I needed to call the doctors to sort out my epilepsy prescription. I wasn’t bothered by the 17 minute hold time. There’s not a meeting about to start on Teams, where I’ll have to hang up, lose my place in the queue, and then try and call them again on the next gap between meetings. I don’t miss that. 

I then returned a call relating to my redundancy. It was a brief chat, but it brought me straight back to the stress I felt. I don’t miss that either. 

Dismantling my past life

In my pre Trad Wife life I worked from home, and my desk is still set up in the spare room. It’s taken me a while to feel ready to tackle this, but today I feel ready. 

I move the two screens into our conservatory, and bag up laptops, keyboards and piles of unknown wires. Some day soon a courier will arrive to pick all of this up, but for the moment, it’s hidden away and I don’t need to think about it. 

The desk is bare. I give it a polish and think about what I want to do with the space. It’s no longer going to be where I chair meetings, give presentations and lead interviews. I loved my job, and I was really, really good at it. My future is so uncertain now.

My first thought was to dismantle the desk and create a little reading nook. But I’ve got nowhere to store the bits of desk, and I’d never be able to put it back together again. 

I decide to make it a space to write my blog, surrounded by things that inspire me and make me smile:

• illustrations of me and my dad at a Smashing Pumpkins gig
• books about being a housewife
• some of my favourite Jellycats (a camembert my husband gave me when I lost my job, an engagement ring given to me by one of my friends, and a good egg)
• a little wooden rabbit that reminds me of my grandpa
• and my laptop that is covered in ‘My Neighbour Totoro’ stickers

It’s a change. It’s bittersweet. I don’t know what this space will become in the future, but for now, it’s mine, and it does make me smile. 

Cooking and pottering

I messaged my husband and suggested making Detroit style pizza for dinner. If you’ve never had it, it’s thick based and incredibly indulgent. He loved the idea, and asked for chorizo, whipped feta and hot honey as toppings. My husband really does love the latest food trends, and hot honey is the one of 2025. 

I made a bread dough and kneaded it for 4 Hot Mulligan songs and left it to proof. Then I pottered and sorted through some washing. 

An hour later it hadn’t risen enough. I put a warm damp tea towel on top of the mixing bowl, turned the heating on and popped it by a radiator. It was already 24 degrees inside, but I sat in front of a fan, and planned to make sure the flat had cooled down again before my husband came home. 

I treated myself to an hour’s rest, poured a glass of prosecco and watched an episode of ‘Worst Ex Ever’ on Netflix. 

I was too hot and the dough wasn’t rising. I think the yeast might have died. I gave it another 30 minutes. 

Well, it had risen, a bit. I knocked the dough back, kneaded it to three songs from The Interrupters, and left it for a second proof. I made the pizza sauce, I couldn’t possibly mess that up: tomatoes, sweet, salt, acid, herbs.

My husband came home, I kiss him at the door. I tell him it’ll be thin base pizza for dinner. He’s still happy.

They were delicious.

The Trad Wife round up:

Unknown wires bagged up: At least 20
Different kinds of cheese used on the pizzas: 4
Failures at making dough: 1
Kisses at the door: 2