Archive for January, 2014

I was virtually terrified of the term housewife till I was one myself.

Not my fault entirely. It’s just that the social labels we in the work force constantly attach to that crowd are quite fear-inflicting. But once I was one of them, I found a way of life that wasn’t just new, it was totally badass. So, here I am today cheering for the team.

We housewives are often boxed into creatures who know nothing of the world. All we ever talk about is the home and the kids and the cooking and cleaning and – well excuse me but doesn’t everybody only talk about what they know best?

I mean have you ever heard physicians converse socially? 95% of their gossip starts with the H of a HOSPITAL and ends with the L. And should you even try to divert the conversation by say, asking them about what they think about bending it like Beckham; they’ll look at you like you just asked them if they’ve ever done it on the dance floor. You might as well ask that for the fun of it for if you’re lucky and there are men in the group, you may have answers. Still no fun? Throw in gun control. Congratulations, you’ve just recreated a Congressional session in full swing at a table for eight at a Save Our Souls Benefit.

I’ve always thought men are so much easier to talk to anyway.

However, if you’re at an all-girls table, chances are you’ll be discussing birth control. Of course them rug-rats are such a speed bump in our career paths. The lesser, the better, you say. Right. I have four kids. You bring up that topic in my presence and you will cry. I can tell you all about that won’t work. That 1% chance of error on every box of everything ever invented? Yeah, that’s real. You don’t want babies? Be celibate or get your tubes tied.

I’m also entertained beyond sanity with stories of how tough work life is. You think your boss is harsh? Try working for mine – the baby, the toddler, the preteen. That two hour board meeting when you almost lost your oil-rigging client to sign for your tree-hugging project was not excruciating, nervewrecking or stressful. Try soothing a colicky baby at three in the morning. And no, you may not cuss at or sedate or talk logic to the baby.

Now, if you’re ever sitting across from a housewife like me, she probably hates talking about shopping the way you do. Oh no, I don’t mean talking about the shoes and bags and clothes and labels – just their price tags because chances are she barely ever knows what anything costs. Here’s why: if I like it, I buy it. Yeah, that rich guy I married spoils me rotten. Sue him.

And my favorite – do I work out? Yes, I do. I’m raising two boys. Even my vocal chords can kick your ass.

In my experience, a socially quiet housewife among a horde of loud working women is not silent because she has nothing important to say. It could be, she’s thinking of her own mother who was a working woman, who did all the house work too and never complained. And she’s sitting there quietly, listening to all your talk, smiling and probably thinking – what a bunch of crybabies!

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