Rowe - Diary of a crap housewife: its time to embrace your perfectly imperfect life

With freedom, books, flowers, and the moon, who could not be happy?

OSCAR WILDE

As I jump into the cool, clean water, the rush of bubbles tickles my nose as my feet push up off the bottom of the pool. I start laughing just as my daughters and I break the surface of the water at the same time.

Mummy, you were meant to hold our hands the whole time, said Allegra.

Sweetness, I didnt mean to let go, I replied.

Come on, lets do it again, but this time, Mumma, you cant let go, said Giselle.

Alright, I promise, I said, as the three of us clambered out of the water and walked back to the deep end.

It has been a year since my sea change and weve returned as a family to that same turquoise-tiled pool in Thailand where I made that choice to change the direction of my life. And as I let the hot, humid heat dry my skin, I have no regrets about stepping back from my career and stepping up for my family.

It has taken a while for my mind to adjust to the slower, calmer pace of life. Initially it was strange to have a diary no longer crammed with commitments. But I have learnt to appreciate those longer gaps between places I needed to go and people who I needed to see. Gradually I realised the freedom that came from choosing to spend time with people that mattered most to me, rather than letting them down because of the demands of a busy, crazed life. And also the relief of letting go of the people who werent good for my spirit and self-worth.

This year I have spent more time with my girls, my husband, my family and friends. And the best part of that, according to my youngest daughter Giselle, is that Im around to take her to school each day. Allegra says she loves being able to spend more time with me and that Im so less stressed. And Peter says, despite the chaos Ive brought to his morning routine, my change has been a game changer for our family.

What hasnt changed is the daily mess that makes up our lives. Im not a better cook, housekeeper or organiser. But in my heart, I know Im a happier person because my life is calmer and less fraught. Im still seeking out adventures but Im going for opportunities that work best for me and my family and where were at in our lives.

My leap into the deep blue has been worth it. And I know there will be plenty more of these leaps of faith for me. Bring on the next chapter for this crap housewife

Thank you to my publisher Annette Barlow and her fine team at Allen & Unwin. Annette has been coaxing me to get the words onto the page for over twenty years and I wouldnt trust my stories or heart with anyone else. Fiona Inglis, my literary agent who has looked after my mother and me since we wrote our first book together and she has kept our words in print! My dream team of David Wilson and Andrew Gaul from Watercooler Talent. I love these wonderful men, who are family to me and have kept believing in me and my quirky, wondrous ways when no one else would.

Thank you to Justine Schofield, Adam Liaw, 4 Ingredients, Ash Pollard and Paula Joye for letting me reproduce their recipes and for revolutionising my weekly meals.

To Woffy, my darling friend, who first encouraged me to write this diary. Thank you Pip, my zone one pal, who told me that Agatha Christie wrote her books in a tent on an archaeological dig in Mesopotamia, so I could write my book anywhere and I needed to get cracking on it! My Mesopotamia became the local library, a haven for writers and students everywhere. Thank you to the librarians, even if I was a little noisy at times for the other occupants.

Finally, endless love and thanks to my Petee. I couldnt do any of this, or life, without YOU.

If it costs you your peace, its 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 youll get bored. Youre 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, Id finally landed the right job at the right time. And Id 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 OClockNews on Ten. Now I had found my niche on a panel chat show and it was quite simply the best television job Id 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.

What is a nice girl like you doing handing out pamphlets for these communists?

I explained that I was a proud member of Young Labor and urged them to support the party. Somehow I dont imagine I converted many of these silvertails and silver foxes!

Over 30 years later, that nice girl was no longer handing out political pamphlets and had become more of a self-declared champagne socialist or limousine leftie. My mother could never work out where I got my expensive tastes from as shed never been taken in by fancy clothes or shoes. She preferred to spend her hard-earned money on books or tickets for gloomy art-house movies. However, what I did inherit from her (and my father) is a passion for social justice and community.

# CRAPHOUSEWIFE

Five mornings a week I had the privilege of sitting alongside my friends, journalists Sarah Harris and Joe Hildebrand, media icon Ita Buttrose and showbiz royalty Denise Drysdale (Neesy). We would also on occasion be joined by guest panellists, who guaranteed that the conversation remained unpredictable and entertaining. Everything I debated on the show came from my heart and there were moments when it was tough to put myself out there, day after day.