The Accidental Trad Wife

Redundancy, reflection and rebellion

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  • Day 2: Cooking and cleaning alone won’t fill my days

    The day begins

    It’s day two. I want to throw myself into this, but I’m still not sure exactly what I should be doing. Day one wasn’t a success or a failure, it was just a Monday. I’m determined to make day two worthwhile.

    Do I head to the butchers rather than getting a Tesco Whoosh delivery? Should I tackle that linen closet? And will I feel guilty spending money on myself when it’s not money I’ve earned? 

    Photo by Pixabay on Pexels.com

    A workplace reflection

    I spent some time last night reading through posts in the Trad Wife community on Reddit. In many ways I already get it. There’s so much pressure to try and meet every expectation of what a woman should be. And it’s simply impossible. So why is there judgement on women who chose a traditional lifestyle? Isn’t the whole point of feminism to have choice.

    I started reflecting on times I’ve felt the pressure of these expectations, and how even when you’re certain you’re doing the right things, you get beaten down. This will probably be the first of many workplace sexism anecdotes, and by no means is it unique. It’s extraordinarily typical, and every woman I know has stories. Not a story, stories. 

    I was early in my career in Learning and Development. There was some initiative where the ‘normal’ people in the business could put themselves forward to have a one-on-one with someone in the Exec team. I was focussing on my career and wanted to be known by the higher ups, so I wrote an application. I must have written something good as I was placed with our CEO. 

    The day comes: I’ve been up since 6, at work since 7.30, and training a group of new joiners since 9. At lunchtime I go upstairs and wait outside the CEO’s office ready to be called in. One of the other execs walks by me. Stops. Looks back. Turns around and says “I can see you’ve taken the morning off to pretty yourself up for the occasion.” I smiled and laughed, that’s what you’re programmed to do, isn’t it? I was thrown off and it didn’t go well. I thought I was there because I’d written a good application, I didn’t doubt that. I should have.

    Cleaning

    After kissing my husband at the door as he headed off to work, I sat back in bed and drank my morning can of Monster. I really need to quit this unladylike habit. 

    9am, seemed like the right time to start the cleaning. The kitchen will take a while. I didn’t soak the pans from dinner last night and I’ve got to tackle a pan of oil I used for deep frying arrancini. By the time I’d finished mopping the floor, it was 9.35. 

    I went to start a deep clean of the bathroom. We’ve run out of toilet cleaner. I leave it to the afternoon once I’ve been out to the shops. I need to get on top of the household supplies. 

    Washing then. I sort the clothes on the airers, fold them and put them away. We have a laundry hamper each in the bedroom, we’ve always done our own washing. I sort through both our hampers and take out all the whites. This isn’t the best set up, I’ll ask my husband tonight if he’s happy to change it so one is for whites and one for everything else. It’s 9.50. Maybe if I start ironing this will fill up more of the day. 

    I tackle the linen closet. Everything out on the floor, refolded and put it back in neatly. 10.05. Cleaning isn’t going to take up as much of my time as I thought. 

    I decided to do something creative. My grandma’s 90th birthday is next year and she’s asked me to help design the invitations. I came up with five ‘Alice in Wonderland’ themed designs. I love that my 89 year old grandma still connects with a book from her childhood. There’s a great quote from Alice that seems apt “Who in the world am I? Ah, that’s a great puzzle.” It’s 11:00.

    Photo by Lucas Andrade on Pexels.com

    Ladies who lunch

    I went out to The Botanist for lunch with my mum. The £8.50 lunchtime deal came to £53.00. Apparently a large New Zealand Sauvignon blanc and two glasses of prosecco will do that. We chatted about family, anxiety and Trad Wife lifestyles.

    We wandered up to Flying Tiger in search of Tupperware, they had none. And then drove up to M&S so I could pick up ingredients for tonight’s dinner: Homemade pasta with bolognaise and burrata. Luckily, I also remembered the toilet cleaner.

    My mum dropped me back off home. “Always a pleasure” she said as I got out of the car, and I replied as always “Never a chore.”

    A quiet evening

    I cleaned the bathroom, hung up the washing and greeted my husband at the door with a kiss. I finished off making the dinner and we settled down in front of the TV for the evening. I could get used to days like this.

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Towels folded: 23
    Glasses of New Zealand Sauvignon blanc: 1
    Hours listening to Spotify: 3
    Stress level: 2/10

  • Day 1: Nothing happened

    Day one

    It’s day one and a bank holiday Monday. 

    The day is coming to an end. I’ll be serving up dinner in about an hour, and I’m listening to Peter Frampton singing ‘Baby, I love your way’ on Youtube.

    It’s a day where nothing significant has happened. I don’t think I’ve done anything more Trad Wife than just being a partner. Maybe that’s the point. I’m not a stressy wreck talking about work, I’m listening, talking, and not adding any negativity. That’s probably a good thing. 

    Photo by Brent Keane on Pexels.com

    The morning

    The day started when my husband’s alarm went off at 7:30, usually when this happens I get annoyed. But now, if he wants to wake up early and make the most of the day, that’s what we’ll do. 

    I got up and grabbed a can of Monster for each of us. That’s not the most classy drink, maybe I should try and like green tea. 

    Our plans today were to meet my family at the beach at midday. So I thought I’d make some sausage rolls to bring down, that sounds like the right thing for Trad Wife to do. 

    While cooking I try to figure out what I should be doing to make my husband’s day as easy as possible. 

    I bought Just-rol, maybe I should have made puff pastry from scratch.

    I almost never take the bins down, that’s something I can do. I took down the recycling, which is overflowing with bottles of sparkling water, prosecco and cans of Monster. 

    The lentils and veg are cooking away on the hob. For some reason the lentils aren’t breaking down to enough of a mush to bind the veg together. I add some more water. 

    What else can I do to be a good Trad Wife? I’ve got bacon and sausages in, I ask my husband if he wants a bap for breakfast. He reminds me he’s following a routine where he only eats between midday and 7pm. These are the things I need to be better at remembering. 

    I toss some rice into the lentil mix on the hob. Definitely too much rice. More cheese and egg will probably bind it enough. 

    I pottered around the flat. I took the towels down from the airer and put them in the linen closet. It’s a mess, I need to sort that closet. 

    The sausage rolls held together. They’re worth bringing down rather than throwing in the bin. I’m not a failure.

    The family

    We got to the beach and met my family. We were two hours late. I got the times wrong, it’s another thing I need to be better at. 

    I was worried I would have to talk about my redundancy over and over again. I didn’t. We just ate scones and sausage rolls, drank tea and prosecco and had a nice time. 

    I loved hearing my husband and my uncle talking about Nottingham and why they both love it. My husband has played gigs there, my uncle has probably not missed a Forest game in 40 years. 

    Later on

    We went to ‘The Ivy’ and had a cocktail. The service could have been better.

    I asked my husband what he wanted for dinner. He asked for arrancini, fresh pasta and salad. I think Trad Wife life means I don’t mention that this is a total hassle. So instead I just check when Tesco is open till to get the ingredients I needed.

    I’ll add a disclaimer here: I love cooking and I’m a good cook, maybe great. Me asking my husband what he wants for dinner does genuinely mean he can ask for anything and I’ll be happy cooking it.

    Photo by Sebastian Coman Photography on Pexels.com

    We get home, I cook. I offer making gnocchi rather than fresh pasta. My husband likes this alternative, I’m relieved, it’s far easier. 

    We sat and ate dinner while watching a documentary on how the world is fucked and recycling alone won’t help. 

    I fell asleep on the sofa.

    The Trad Wife round up:

    Sausage rolls eaten: 14 (they were small)
    Glasses of prosecco: 4
    Items of washing up: 20+
    Feeling: Still lost.

  • Day 0: “Try it, write about it, I’d read it” 

    Redundancy

    Redundancy hasn’t just been the loss of a job, or the loss of income. I’ve lost purpose. I was a high-flying boss-bitch career woman, and in a seven minute conversation it was gone. My plans for the future were set, I knew who I was. Now, I don’t. 

    With redundancy imminent, eating a takeaway from Pho on the sofa I joked to my husband, “Now I’m not the breadwinner, I’ll be your Trad Wife”.

    Although layered and nuanced, the Trad Wife movement is about embracing gender roles, prioritising home life and respecting different contributions to the home.

    Feminism is integral to who I am, so how could I be a feminist and a Trad Wife, the two don’t fit, do they?

    We finished the last of the mango salad, and the idea of being a Trad Wife lingered. 

    There could be something in this

    The next day, I was lamenting in the local Wetherspoons with my friend Kyle, I joke with him about the laughable concept of me being a Trad Wife. A couple of drinks later I come back to it “Why not?”. We drink, we chat. At the third pint of Doombar, Kyle says “Try it, write about it, I’d read it!”. We laugh, we debate. After the fourth glass of New Zealand Sauvignon, I say “We’ll eat better, the house will be cleaner and I just need something to do to find purpose…why not?”. 

    Back home in bed, scrolling through Reddit, the idea didn’t fade. I’m sure it’s not for me. I lead neurodiversity initiatives and digitalise learning for big business…I don’t know where my iron is, and I last cleaned my oven over six months ago.

    The next morning

    My husband and I have a lazy morning and head to our local dive bar for lunch, I suggest the Trad Wife experiment to him. He is not comfortable with this.

    We’re a classic millennial DINK couple (Dual Income No Kids): we meet our friends and talk about who’s had the most stressful week over sushi, and pretend we’re going to get all of our cleaning done on a Friday night so our weekend is free (we rarely do).

    We chat more about the experiment over brisket fries and a New Zealand Sauvignon for me, and a Po Boy and Pepsi Max for him. We worry together, “What if we like it?”. We’re both uncomfortable…but we agree together to give it a go. It’ll give me something to focus on while I’m otherwise lost. 

    The terms

    We agree terms for the experiment, for the next six weeks:

    • I will be solely responsible for all the housework.
    • a freshly made meal will be on the table each night.
    • all money spent will all come from the joint account.
    • I’ll endeavour to make home life for my husband as easy, fun and interesting as possible.
    • we’ll work out as we go along what the element of ‘Submitting to your husband’ means. We think it might mean that I respect that he’s been out all day at work, so if he wants to go bowling and I want to go for dinner, we go bowling. But honestly, we’re not sure. 
    • I’ll blog daily, and honestly.

    Copilot tells me that mutual respect is key to a Trad Wife relationship. I like this. So I’m putting preconceptions and biases aside, so for the next six weeks, I’ll be ‘The Accidental Trad Wife’. 

    The Trad Wife round up:

    My hopes: learn more about myself, challenge my biases, eat good food.
    My fears: losing a sense of self, changing a good marriage dynamic, getting bored…really really bored. 
    Glasses of wine: 5 (maybe 6, possibly 7)
    Loads of washing done: 0
    Knot in my stomach: Considerable