Not a Housewife

I had an epiphany tonight: I'm not a housewife. I never married a house. I never even dated a house. And I sure as hell never made one any promises.

Women my age were born right as a woman's role within the family was changing. And many of us, although more modern in our thinking than the last generation, are still tied mentally to the older expectations.

I have always felt like a bad housewife. I don't enjoy cleaning or cooking - and seldom make either a priority. Even when I really try I just can't seem to get everything done.

Not succeeding at something, that others seem to take in stride, has always bothered me. I don't like failing at anything.

Tonight, I realized I haven't failed. I don't stay home to clean my house or prepare meals. I stay home to raise my children; to make sure their first years are spent with family. To give them the best start possible on developing into people with the values Steve and I (and not some babysitter) think are important. To give them a sense of security and a solid foundation from which they can grow into healthy and strong individuals.

I'm a stay-at-home mom.

I take care of their basic needs, introduce them to new places and things, encourage them to spread their wings, support their interests, offer guidance and discipline when needed, teach them how to handle the highs and lows, show them how to make sacrifices and love one another, and I'm always there when they need me.

(And yeah, that does involve some cooking, laundry, and house work . . . but not as much as you would think.)

And you know what? I'm good at it.