Treadmill

Husband is fed up. He has fair reason to be. He works bloody hard - many hours toiling away in a bar frequented by the uber rich (he introduced Sproglet and I to one woman last week who hailed from Oz and had a diamond on her hand the side of a duck egg. She inherited 400 MILLION from her late husband. She loved Sproglet 'he looks so handsome, just like his Daddy' she flirted, and I offered to trade him for the ring - she didn't crack a smile. All money and no humour). He gets a good wage - no, better than good. And mid month onwards we are broke. I'm not working, but the bills they keep a comin' - gas: £160 a month, telephone £250 a quarter; electric £160 a quarter; council tax £125 a month; mortgage - not small - credit card £100; loan £150; mobiles; life insurance; insurance for the house contents and house; insurance so Sproglet is provided for; tv licence; food - christ we seem to piss away money daily on food for the 3 of us - and Husband is rarely here. And on and on...

We get by but we aren't comfortable in the way we were when I was presenting and we had a flat, no kids. We're in the old money trap - bigger house, bigger outgoings, one child, one on the way. Sometimes I wonder if I am making a huge mistake having baby no 2. I make no apologies saying this. I worry about how we will cope both financially and emotionally. We have no one around us to ever lighten the load - to ever say - 'hey, let me give you guys a break.' My Mum is in N. Ireland, Husband's Mum is in Oz. My Dad - in Belfast, well, whilst he runs around and does everything for my step-sister's kids - including having them to stay every Sat night since they were born (!!!!!) he hasn't even made it over to see me or Sproglet in England and I've been here almost 20 years. Don't get me started. I rang him to tell him I was pregnant and he said he was busy driving - he'd call back that evening. He didn't. Three days later I called him - seems he had forgotten. But he did tell me about his other Grandson's cricket and school and this and that. Could he name you Sproglet's school? Could he heck. God I have stop writing this as I feel my blood boiling.

So Husband and I end up frazzled and irritable and angry at each other for never ever getting any space, any time to ourselves and yet we are going to bring another person into all this. It feels somewhat crazy... possibly romantic, a notion about what family is, or should be and all the while we erode our sanity, our marriage.

He feels he is on the treadmill and he doesn't know how to change it as to change careers would mean a salary drop we cannot afford. Gawd only knows how I can get work - up the duff and with TV drama imploded - even if my old show did win a BAFTA award last night (hurrah!).

The grind continues - Sproglet refusing to eat dinner, my life all about laundry. I married for love - not money - but I can see the appeal of doing so, shallow as that sounds. I don't covet things, I am not materialistic - you can keep your fancy designer clothes and swish cars - no, all I would like is someone to do my fecking sodding never ending bloody washing. Separate the piles, load em, hang em out, fold away and repeat until you are ready to climb on in that machine and put yourself on the fast spin cycle just for a laugh!!!! Oh and to have an au pair - how funny is it that the richest folk with the biggest houses can spend a measly £50 a week on an au pair - while the rest of us don't have the room. Oh to have someone else entertain Sproglet for just half a day. Just for me to, well, read a book, or wee in peace, or do some goddamn writing.

I'm sorry if this post got all 'Carrie' i.e. 'my diamond shoes are too tight and my wallet is too small for my fifties Mr Big' - I'm just having one of those days when my recent haircut is depressing me (Noel Edmonds' do in 1977 anyone?), no clothes fit me any more but I have no money for maternity ones and everything I have put on ebay to make a buck aint selling. Plus Husband is venting and we are both spiralling down the plughole... The old money trap. How to get out of it? I even bought a lottery card on Saturday... Times are getting desperate.