Musings from a ‘Housewife’

Someone threw a (figurative) rock at me. He was kidding, and I know he meant no harm, but he said, “We can’t all be housewives! Some of us got jobs!”

I know he was only trying to be funny, but still, oof. It really stung and stirred up a bunch of stuff. It felt patronizing and as if what I do is unimportant. And easy. And the only thing I’ve ever wanted to do. And it kind of is, except it’s not.

But it did get me thinking and maybe reevaluating how I feel about my situation at this point in everyone’s lives.

When our oldest was born almost 13 years ago, my husband, the Professor, and I decided I’d give up my six-figure salary to stay home with her. Through the years as the girls have grown, I’ve done other stuff, most recently working part-time as a grant writer at a college here in town. But my primary job has been to manage the family and keep it running smoothly so the Professor could concentrate on his career and supporting us. For the record, that man works his tail off for all of us, his shrieky, excitable, loud, and goofy girls.

I know there are families struggling to make ends meet with two working parents and single parents who would love another partner to share responsibilities with. I know how lucky we are that I can stay home (also it helps tremendously that my writing jobs are done at home and don’t take up all my waking hours).

And I am thrilled to do it.

I’m thrilled that when someone has a bad day and comes home in tears, I’m there with a hug and some love. I love that I’m the first person they get to tell when they make the team or win the election or do well on the test. I love that I can work out at 8:30 a.m. instead of 6 a.m. because I’m not scrambling to get to work.

I love that I can sit and read the paper before my day really gets started. I love that I can run errands and not be overwhelmed by crowds. I love that I can join my friends during the tennis clinic. There are well over one million things that are so great about being home and working full-time for my family.

However…

It’s not all unicorns and rainbows and gumdrops (or sleep and coffee and wine if you prefer), especially if you like to feel appreciated or valuable or important. The Professor tries to make me feel like what I do matters and it makes the family’s lives better and easier, but I’m pretty much always available, so I’m regularly taken for granted by those whom I serve. There’s the assumption that I can and will do whatever they need whenever they need it, regardless of what I may be doing.

Far more often than not, I’m the one who has to rearrange things if a kid is sick, if the cable goes out, if something needs to be picked up. That’s part of the deal of this job and it really is OK. Until someone says something like, “oh, so you don’t work?” or “some of us got jobs!”

Being everyone’s errand girl or nurse or laundress or chauffeur or cook is not especially fulfilling. In fact, it’s often thankless.

I am incredibly blessed, but I have also sacrificed – a part of myself and what I had worked for. I’ve given up things that meant a lot to me so I can serve my family. And sometimes I want credit and sometimes (I’m ashamed to admit) I want my kids to know that it’s hard and I don’t always love it. But that kind of makes me a jerk of a mom.

There’s an essay that I love and reread regularly. I believe its author is Nicole Johnson and it’s called I’m Invisible, though I’ve also seen it referred to as The Invisible Woman. The essence of it (for me) was summed up when she was telling a story about a friend who’d returned from a European trip and gave her a book on the great European cathedrals. She wasn’t sure why her friend chose that gift until she read the inscription:

With admiration for the greatness of what you are building when no one sees.

Gah! I know, right?!

So when I start to feel sorry for my (very lucky) self when my amazing husband forgets we’re partners and instead acts like we’re in a boss/employee relationship, I remind myself he’s doing the best he can to take care of us.

And when my t(w)een girls act like t(w)een girls navigating through a tricky and confusing time in their lives, I try and remember I’m on a very long-term assignment and probably won’t be around to see it finished. I’m trying to build an adult, a (hopefully) productive member of society.

The process is messy, and kids are self-centered and inconsiderate and foolish and aggravating. They’re also the purest joy and love I’ve ever known.

So when I start to doubt myself (and feel like all of my bosses are reinforcing that doubt), I have to very intentionally focus on the benefits of being home and available to the people I love most in the world, because it really is a gift.

Do you sometimes struggle with taking care of your family and feel like you’re not taken seriously? How do you handle it?