London - For the past two weeks I’ve been working away from home. I’ve been at “the fashions”, as a colleague’s young son calls the bi-annual catwalk shows of Milan and Paris.
It’s written in my contract that I attend these runway collections, it’s business and I am obliged to be away.
This means my husband is in sole charge of the four children, aged two to 11.
It’s Mr Candy’s turn in the hot seat at air-traffic control: he’s wrestling with the dreaded domestic to-do list alone.
Will everyone survive the triple school-run to get in on time?
Will homework get done, hair get brushed, uniforms washed and hamsters fed?
Will veggies get eaten and fizzy drinks be rationed?
Will he leave me when I get back?
This week I’ve learnt that apparently modern men resent being used as “daddy day care”.
According to some they dislike it so much they hot-foot it out of a relationship, join internet dating sites and reveal their best body part is “their bum”.
At least that seems to be the consensus of judgmental opinion I’ve read on the recent split between TV presenter Susanna Reid and her partner of 16 years Dominic Cotton (the man with the good bum).
Columnists gleefully appeared to collude in the ridiculous view that it just wasn’t on for a working mum to expect her partner to take on equal childcare.
How dare Susanna tackle a tough commute to work at BBC Breakfast, devote further time to training for Strictly Come Dancing, and then expect Dominic to be responsible for their three boys in her absence, the commentators crooned, as the news that Cotton was single and looking for love online broke.
They concluded Cotton left because he resented his temporary role as house husband, that being the primary carer is really the woman’s job.
This kind of thinking is illogical. Equal parenting is indisputably the most efficient way of organising childcare when both parents choose to or need to work.
None of us know the reason Reid and her partner parted (it’s none of our business frankly) but to blame her career for the split is nonsensical.
So should I be worried? Should I quit my job and stay within a five-mile radius of the kitchen to safeguard my marriage?
It never crosses my mind — as I head for the airport for my short business trips and hand over control of the fearsome foursome — that Mr Candy may then feel the need to exchange me for a less demanding model.
Can he cope in my absence? Of course he can, he is a man not a pot plant (no one asks if I’m going to be able to cope when he goes away for work, no one thinks I’ll resent the responsibility).
He isn’t any less capable just because he hasn’t got a womb or his hair is shorter than mine.
In fact, he seems to enjoy his rare mum-free existences. When I get home the little fellas have all but made ‘”addy Does It Best” badges.
He doesn’t parent the way I do given his haphazard time-keeping — with Mr Candy routine is suspended, bedtimes are flexible, baths negotiable and the toddler often goes out in her PJ bottoms instead of her leggings — but that’s half the fun for the children.
They adapt to his way of doing things and I silence my inner control freak to overlook the fact they have probably had Tesco pizza for tea three days in a row.
I haven’t been “lucky” as some imply when they witness Mr Candy’s willingness to help out, I’ve been logical.
We knew children would be hard work so we defined a way of doing it we think works for us. Logic with a lot of love thrown in.
And on the plus side, my husband revels in the “superhero” status bestowed on him by some of the other mums while I am away.
“He’s so good, isn’t he?” one mum once said to me as if his appearance at the playground was as rare as a Nando’s black card.
“He’s just a man,” I replied, “doing the school run. Nothing unusual about that.” - Daily Mail
* Lorraine Candy is editor in chief of Elle magazine.