You know, there was a time I thought I would be truly offended to be termed a “housewife.” The very word brings to mind pictures of June Cleaver vaccuming in her starched pinafore and pearls, making dinner from scratch and still having time to meet Ward at the door with a neat martini. But let’s take a look at the reality-I have a beautiful house (pretty big too), four boys that would prefer to just walk around smelling slightly funky (bathing is something people without cable do), three dogs (who do actually smell really funky), a large fishtank (though I couldn’t clean it with the hose my husband has for the life of me), a lizard (probably the cleanest ‘guy’ in the house), and my husband (for the most part a pretty clean and nice smelling kind of guy though.) Oops! Let’s not forget me…I like to think I am pretty well groomed (though I admit there are days I carry around my share of funk.) With all of this on my plate…is it so hard to believe that my house isn’t spotless? that I don’t always make dinner from scratch? That occasionally things slip through the cracks?
Now, on days when I am feeling sorry for myself, when I need 27 hours instead of just 24…my husband doesn’t hesitate to point out that this is the life I agreed to. I signed on for this when I quit my job. (though for the record…I do coach swimming October-March and June through August, I also help a friend out with her business….) And I must swallow my pride and admit he is right. When I agreed that I would be the stay at home parent, I took on ALL of this willingly, but that doesn’t mean there won’t be days I won’t ask myself WHY I agreed to take it on!
The other day, Heathcliff (our freakishly large Foxhound) puked on the rug. I come into my family room to see him getting ready to lick it up (maybe too much information, but I had to share) I yelled, “Heathcliff no!” and he ran off. So, I run to get stuff to clean it up, our two older boys come downstairs merely to say how gross it is, our youngest runs after the offending dog to remind him what a bad doggie he is, and in the midst of all this, My gorgeous husband comes out of his office, smiles at me, and says, “Way to go housewife!” And for the first time I can remember the term didn’t grate on me, it just made me smile.
