‘They’ say that ‘happiness is earning more than your brother in law.’

If that’s true then I’ve just come back from 5 days of depression inducing hell…Easter with my 3 brothers in law and their families.

They’re all great guys and I’ve known them for years (including as friends, before I did the unthinkable and dated, then married their little sister…but that’s another story for another time.)

I’ll lay the scene; BIL (bother in law) 1 is on the board of directors of a bank; BIL 2 is a partner at a global law firm and BIL 3, one of my oldest friends (apart from the 2 years he wouldn’t speak to me because of the sister situation (see above)) runs a little business from his house which sees him earning more than BIL 1 and 2 combined. This trifecta, this triple whack with the ‘you’re worthless’ stick, this probe with the ‘what the fuck have you done with your life’ finger (and thumb) hadn’t registered before…it’s rare that we’re all in the same country at the same time…but this Easter it happened and happened in full force in a big rambling farmhouse we’d hired for the weekend.

The 6 kids ran amok and did what kids do. The wives drank wine, flicked through magazines and did what wives do. And the guys do what apparently guys with prestigious jobs and / or high amounts of disposable income do, and talked money…

By day 2 I was spending more time with the kids. By day 3 I was even considering starting work on a novel, simply to give me an excuse not to participate in the conversations I couldn’t really participate in, and by day 4 I was drinking heavily to dumb down the internal voices tearing sheets off me. I’m not a jealous person (although a couple of ex-girlfriends might beg to differ…especially the one whose dress I cut up after she screwed around on me with some floppy German fool in a camper van…) but it was tough. As many times as I tried to divert the conversation to anything other than money, business and finances (and cars I’ve never even heard of), they managed to slickly slide back to the point they’d been interrupted at. It was exhausting.

By day 5 I was feeling like the knock-kneed fat kid at a school sports day and my ego and self-worth were both punch drunk and reeling. I’d wondered out into the never ending garden with glass in hand. I was vaguely aware of the kids voices nearby, when a chubby little 2 year old hand grabbed mine and pulled me to the trampoline.

‘Daddy look. Do like this.’ She said, and I looked down and she had her head between her knees. I didn’t understand. The she dragged me onto the bouncy canvas, tucked her head down and executed a perfect somersault and lay on her back screeching with pride.

‘Daddy look. You do.’ and I did…the first somersault I’ve done in about 25 years,landing on my back next two my youngest daughter, the 2 of us laughing madly (and me feeling more than a little disoriented after spinning my gut full of wine 360 degrees), and I had one of those rare moments where life gets thrust back into perspective with such a force that your mind slaps you upside the head…and you realise that you’ve just spent wasted x number of days feeling worthless when really you’re OK…you’re a good dad, your daughters are healthy and all have the right number of limbs and eyes and don’t think you’re a fool all the time. You’ve got your health. You’re not eating somebody else’s Pot Noodles out of their bin for breakfast and in the rain and cold you’re dry and warm under a roof that’s not made from cardboard boxes or a plastic sheet.

Life is good…I’m just not rich.