Diary of a Crap Housewife Read online

  Praise for Jessica Rowe

  Love. Wisdom. Motherhood.

  ‘A cathartic read for any new mother struggling with the pain of adjustment.’ Herald Sun

  ‘Distinctive for its honesty … This is a book that new or expectant mothers will find great comfort in and much practical common sense.’ Weekly Times

  ‘A loving, honest tome … Rowe has provided us with an exquisite collection of varied motherhood experiences.’ Sophia Whitfield

  Is This My Beautiful Life?

  ‘Rowe’s unglossy account resonates far beyond the glare of the studio lights. Her honesty shatters the mask of stoicism worn by many successful women … the impact of her revealing memoir should not be underestimated. Amid the turmoil, there is beauty in Rowe’s imperfect life and it is more than skin deep.’ Sydney Morning Herald

  ‘Offering encouragement, sympathy and comfort to women who may find themselves struggling with “having it all”, Is This My Beautiful Life? is an open and touching read, addressing an important subject that affects around 1 in 7 Australian women.’ Book’d Out

  ‘Jessica writes with refreshing honesty about her journey through motherhood so far.’ Mamamia

  ‘Jessica has parlayed her tendency to “over-share” into an honest dialogue that intends to abolish stigmas and encourage greater support.’ Australian Traveller

  ‘A touching memoir by a woman trying to make a difference when it comes to openness about mental health issues.’ Law Society Journal NSW

  Jessica Rowe is an accomplished journalist, television presenter, speaker and author.

  Jessica has written three bestselling non-fiction books: The Best of Times, the Worst of Times (co-authored with Penelope Rowe); Love. Wisdom. Motherhood.; and her memoir, Is This My Beautiful Life?

  A proud ‘crap housewife’ herself, Jessica has gathered a strong and loyal following on her #craphousewife website, Facebook and Instagram. She celebrates and unites all mothers who sometimes feel they are not perfect.

  Jessica also co-creates a hilarious and wise podcast with best friend and television icon Denise Drysdale, called One Fat Lady and One Thin Lady.

  A passionate advocate for mental health awareness, Jessica is an ambassador for beyondblue and a patron of Mental Health Australia. In 2015, she was awarded a Member of the Order of Australia for both her advocacy work and contribution to Australian media.

  Jessica is married to journalist Peter Overton and they have two young daughters.

  For more information, please go to jessicarowe.com.au, craphousewife.com and watercooler.net.au. And you can follow Jessica’s Instagram adventures on @jessjrowe.

  First published in 2019

  Copyright © Jessica Rowe 2019

  All rights reserved. No part of this book may be reproduced or transmitted in any form or by any means, electronic or mechanical, including photocopying, recording or by any information storage and retrieval system, without prior permission in writing from the publisher. The Australian Copyright Act 1968 (the Act) allows a maximum of one chapter or 10 per cent of this book, whichever is the greater, to be photocopied by any educational institution for its educational purposes provided that the educational institution (or body that administers it) has given a remuneration notice to the Copyright Agency (Australia) under the Act.

  Allen & Unwin

  83 Alexander Street

  Crows Nest NSW 2065

  Australia

  Phone: (61 2) 8425 0100

  Email: [email protected]

  Web: www.allenandunwin.com

  ISBN 978 1 76052 952 9

  eISBN 978 1 76087 095 9

  The recipe for Tuna Niçoise Salad on page 81 is a modified version of a recipe originally published in Dinner with Justine by Justine Schofield (Pan Macmillan, 2016), reproduced with permission from the publisher.

  The recipe for Chicken and Pesto Spaghetti on page 216 is a modified version of a recipe originally published in Simple Every Day by Justine Schofield (Pan Macmillan, 2017), reproduced with permission from the publisher.

  Set by Bookhouse, Sydney

  Cover design: Romina Panetta Edwards

  Cover photos: Peter Brew-Bevan

  For Allegra and Giselle,

  you are my greatest joy

  Be silly. Be honest. Be kind.

  RALPH WALDO EMERSON

  Contents

  Introduction

  SPAGHETTI BOLOGNAISE

  1 Reinvention

  BREKKIE BRUSCHETTA

  2 Cooking

  SCHNITZEL

  3 Botox

  HONEY AND SOY CHICKEN WINGS

  4 Friends

  TUNA NIÇOISE SALAD

  5 Courage

  CHICKEN AND CASHEW NUT STIR-FRY

  6 Sex

  WALDORF SALAD

  7 Cleaning

  TERIYAKI SALMON

  8 School

  BANANA AND COCONUT BREAD

  9 Mental Health

  CHICKEN PIE

  10 Mothering

  CHICKEN ENCHILADA CAKE

  11 Fashion

  CHICKEN AND PESTO SPAGHETTI

  12 Cats

  HAMBURGERS

  Epilogue

  Acknowledgements

  Introduction

  Housework can’t kill you, but why take a chance?

  PHYLLIS DILLER

  I’m a proud crap housewife! What does that mean? It’s my way of being lighthearted so I can take the pressure off myself and realise that I am good enough. I’m also an over-sharer, far from perfect and I get through some days better than others with the help of my family, friends, cats, chocolate and antidepressants. I had postnatal depression after the birth of both of my daughters and struggled to ask for help because of the pressure I’d put on myself to be a ‘perfect mother’. Of course, I now realise there is no such thing as being a perfect mother, wife, friend and career woman! Besides, how boring life would be if you had it all together, all the time.

  How did I see the imperfect light? It took time and I’ve wasted too much energy keeping up appearances over the years. Sometimes I still slip up and I’m not sure any of us every really stop trying to get it right. But for me, that is the joy of living—always learning about myself and about who and what matters. The older I get, the more comfortable I am with letting people and situations go because they don’t matter. How much time have you wasted worrying about what other people think? Especially those you don’t really like or respect?

  I now wear my so-called ‘failings’ and ‘flaws’ like badges of honour as I’ve discovered the enormous power that comes from being vulnerable. Part of that vulnerability has meant letting go of the apron strings tied around the airbrushed image of what a family is ‘supposed’ to look like.

  Sometimes this means I feed my tribe toast for dinner. It also means having dirty dishes in the sink unless my husband is around because he finds it therapeutic to wash them. We have cupboards that are hastily jammed with stuff when unexpected visitors arrive, as well as those never-ending piles of clothes in laundry baskets dotted around our house. Our family doesn’t own an iron. If you give your clothes a quick, forceful shake and put them on straight out of the dryer, all the creases disappear. I discovered only recently that my smallest daughter didn’t know what an iron was when we were playing charades together. I was over-acting (as per usual) and miming putting up an ironing board and pressing a shirt.

  ‘Are you stretching?’ asked Giselle.

  ‘No,’ I replied.

  ‘You’re not meant to talk, Mummy! Do you have a sore wrist?’

  Shaking my head, I tried again and again to imitate the motion of ironing. Eventually I had to pause our game and google images of irons to show my daughter wh
at I was trying to do.

  # CRAPHOUSEWIFE

  Craphousewife.com began like so many other parts of my life—through a conversation. I’m someone who has always loved a chat! Before talking at a writers’ festival in Brisbane, I bonded over caffeine with the woman who was going to interview me on stage. Her name was Lauren Sams, also an author and a journalist, and we both had young kids of a similar age. The pair of us were having a mutual moan about the juggle of trying to be a ‘good’ mum. Lauren told me about an Instagram account about school lunches where parents posted pictures of the intricate and fancy-looking lunches they made for their children each day. Think pirate-shaped sandwiches, homemade nut-free muesli bars and star-shaped fruit speared onto blunted vegan wooden skewers. Surely this was a joke?

  But it wasn’t—when I logged onto the account I was horrified at this perfection being paraded in front of me. Initially, I reacted with that all-too-familiar feeling of not being up to scratch; my daughters got a Vegemite sandwich in their lunch orders most days. Their morning tea consisted of an apple and some sweet, packaged plastic-wrapped treat that I would hastily leave out for them on our kitchen benchtop before going to work each morning. Was I setting them up for a lifetime of bad food choices? I had read numerous stories about the obesity epidemic ruining our children and felt that this was yet another example of how I was ‘failing’ as a mother.

  But I managed to stop my mind from racing to worst-case scenarios by doing my deep-breathing exercises. The simple mindfulness technique of thinking about your breath when you breathe in and out had become a user-friendly way for me to manage my anxiety. Breathe in for four, out for four and then you’re meant to hold for four seconds. (For some reason I always got stuck with the holding part and would think too much about what would happen if I held my breath for too long!) Once my thoughts were under control, I got angry and thought, Damn it! (I’m not a swearer and that’s as blue as my language gets.) I then decided to start Instagram posting exactly what I cooked for my family each and every night. So, that Sunday night I posted a picture of baked beans in a saucepan along with the words: Sunday—it must be baked beans and toast for dinner with the hashtag #craphousewife. On Monday, the picture was of six sizzling sausages in varying states of charcoal, Today is Monday … Monday—sausages! #smokealarm #craphousewife.

  Each evening I revealed my lack of culinary expertise: it might have been a picture of spaghetti bolognaise, canned spaghetti, fried rice, pasta or charcoal chicken wings. The pictures became my protest, my rallying cry that I’m doing my best. Okay, I’m a crappy cook and messy ‘housekeeper’ but that doesn’t matter. There are plenty of other things I’m good at: I love my family fiercely, I’m a loyal friend (even if I don’t return phone calls), a good daughter, I’m kind and I like to laugh loudly. I’m good at wearing glittery eyeliner, online shopping, being silly with my daughters, perking up my husband, dressing up in costumes and eating chocolate in bed.

  What I didn’t expect from my #craphousewife posts was to find a tribe of fellow crap housewives! Now I’ve connected with an army of fine women who are also doing their very best in their lives to manage the demands of family, work, ageing parents, partners and friends. I love that we’re sharing our pictures of mangled meals with an understanding that no one has the perfect life. We understand that those beautiful Valencia-filtered images you see on social media aren’t real. Social media can be bad for your mental health, as those immaculate, fake images can make you second-guess your own life. But I’m all for sharing the realities and routine of every day. No one has the beautiful life, with the perfect career, well-behaved children and a flawless marriage.

  I’m weary of the nonsense message about women ‘having it all’. (We never ask men if they can ‘have it all’—but that’s a whole other book.) What does ‘having it all’ mean anyway? For me, I’ve discovered that I can have it all, but not at the same time. It has been impossible for me to have a career, running at a trillion miles an hour, and to be present for my family all at once. There is a time and a season for everything, and I’ve learnt that something always has to give to make room for what matters to you, right here, right now. And for all of us, that breaking point comes at different times and during different phases of our lives.

  What I hope you get from this collection of stories is a sense of being understood and supported in the way you’re leading your life. I’m far from having all of the answers but I do know that sharing our stories of failure, triumph and joy is a way of feeling connected. This book is my way of showing there is no one-size-fits-all way to be the best mother, wife, friend and daughter. Laughter is intrinsic to my DNA and I never like to take myself too seriously, even though my dear husband wishes I would tone down my craziness sometimes!

  However, over the years I have become more outlandish in my style and that is why I’m drawn to the trailblazing work of the comedian Phyllis Diller. This mother of six children, who had a cackling laugh and wore flamboyant costumes, embraced stand-up comedy in the fifties. At the heart of her routines was sending up her lack of ‘good’ housewife skills. She is my spirit animal.

  My wish for this little book is that you can find some sparkle, light and sprinklings of fairy dust as you navigate your own not-so-perfect but glorious life! Plus, I’ve included some of my favourite and easiest recipes that I regularly feed my family. I’m always looking for nightly meal inspiration as there is nothing more soul-destroying than cooking meals that no one will eat! And the recipes I’ve included are crowd pleasers (mind you—Peter now gets his meals from a food delivery service). Crap housewives of the world unite!

  SPAGHETTI BOLOGNAISE

  We have spag bol at least once a week! I can’t think of a family that doesn’t rely on this Italian favourite on a semi-regular basis. Sometimes I’ll use the leftover mince to make a shepherd’s pie or nachos or lasagne. Mince is a highly underrated meat!

  Ingredients

  500 g beef mince

  1 jar of pasta sauce

  1 jar of canned tomatoes

  1 packet of spaghetti (we like to mix it up with pasta shells or bow tie pasta)

  as much or as little grated parmesan cheese as you like

  Method

  Heat frypan over a medium heat, add mince, stirring occasionally while it’s cooking. Once it’s cooked, drain off any excess fat, add jar of pasta sauce and stir it through with the canned tomatoes. Turn heat down to low and let it simmer for 20 minutes. This cooking time varies for me depending on how hungry my girls are!

  Meanwhile, bring a pot of water to the boil, add your pasta and cook for 8–10 minutes.

  Serve with grated parmesan cheese, crusty bread and salad.

  Success rate

  Three out of four family members love this. My daughters have been eating spag bol since they were tiny. I remember using a Bamix to mush it up for them when they first started on solid food. At the time, I was a little obsessed with pureeing everything in sight. However, Peter fell out of love with this meal a long time ago and he never, ever wants to see another bowl of spaghetti bolognaise.

  1

  Reinvention

  If it costs you your peace, it’s too expensive.

  UNKNOWN

  Little splashes of pool water forced my eyes open to stare up at the soft, afternoon sunshine. These flicks of cool water were coming from the graceful kicks of my youngest daughter. She had been pushing me and the giant inflatable pizza that I was lying on, around the blue, slippery, tiled swimming pool.

  ‘Guess who, Mummy?’ laughed my eight-year-old.

  ‘No idea. Who is this mystery mermaid taking me and my pizza on a tour?’

  The pair of us kept talking nonsense and laughing loudly into the lazy sky. A dragonfly with transparent silver wings buzzed near the pool surface. ‘Remember this, Jessica,’ whispered my heart. ‘You are happy, right here, right now.’

  # CRAPHOUSEWIFE

  Later that day, I proudly declared to my husband, Peter, that I
was leaving my television job. The pair of us were talking, while we watched our daughters twirl around in the shallow surf on the edge of Khao Lak beach in Thailand. He was used to my haphazard plans and took a long sip of his happy-hour gin and tonic, digging his toes into the sand, before responding.

  ‘Pussycat, what will you do? I know you. You like to have a project and I worry that you’ll get bored. You’re going to miss the attention from being on the television. Remember how long you waited to have a job like Studio 10?’

  Peter was right. I was doing a job that I loved and in the rough-and-tumble world of media, I’d finally landed the right job at the right time. And I’d had my fair share of jobs, having worked for all the commercial television networks in Australia. The only places still left for me to work at were the public broadcasters, ABC and SBS. I had been working on Studio 10, the morning television chat show on Network Ten, for four years. The role was like returning home for me as I had spent an early part of my broadcasting career reading for the Five O’Clock News on Ten. Now I had found my niche on a panel chat show and it was quite simply the best television job I’d ever had.

  Throwing off my news-presenter impartiality, I relished the opportunity to debate the big and little topics of the day on Studio 10. For the first time, I was truly myself on the telly and it meant snorting while I laughed without any bosses telling me to rein it in (as I had been told to do at another network). I could also passionately debate the issues that made my bleeding heart ache: topics like mental health, refugees, Indigenous issues and sexism.

  # CRAPHOUSEWIFE

  As a teenager I used to hand out ‘How to vote’ cards for the Labor Party, in one of the ritziest, most monied parts of Sydney. Walking down the queue of voters and clutching my Labor literature, women wearing ropes of Paspaley pearls and Salvatore Ferragamo flats would try to counsel me.