To Be, Or Not To Be... A Housewife. That Is The Question. I Think?

I have somewhat of a 'newer' inner struggle these days. I'm not talking about my inner fat kid again either... I'm talking about my personal title. When people ask me what I do, I have no idea what to say anymore. Do I throw out the... "I'm a stay at home Mom", "I'm a wife", "I'm a hairstylist a few hours a week", "I'm a professional Bridesmaid after being in 19 weddings", "I could be a competitive eater", (just not hot dogs... but Kobayashi has nothing on this broad...) :) Or, "I'm kind of a professional friend, and I plan Girls Weekends and Christmas parties"? I mean..... all of them would make more sense, and give me more satisfaction than saying the ever dreaded... "I'm a housewife." It really shouldn't make much of a difference what I say, right? After all, my days are spent catering to my peeps, and keeping my house running. There is the laundry, (literally 7 loads a day... I, personally, have a pair of undies in each load. Otherwise, it's allll theirs. How many outfits do these people WEAR a day? Jesus!), I drive kids everywhere they need to go, vacuum every day, scrub floors and toilets, do the Target runs, do the grocery store runs, water the plants, clean some more, weed the gardens, make the beds, do the dishes, make breakfast, lunch and dinner, do more dishes, finish laundry, return emails about camps, classes, teachers, etc... I even decorate, paint walls so well I don't even tape anymore, fix broken toilets, and leaky faucets. Hell, I have even been known to sheetrock my own walls, and build my own furniture. (Ahem... excuse me... I had to scratch my balls for a second...) :) all without monetary compensation. So... why does that have a certain stigma attached that I can't quite stomach? I am a mutha effin' housewife. I need to learn to deal... I'm pretty sure that ain't changin' anytime soon.

I never really thought I'd be this person, in all honesty. I always thought of 'Housewife' like this...

When I was growing up, Women were no longer the 50s, June Cleaver types... aspiring to be a housewife, for lack of other options. Wearing a dress, full makeup, heals and an apron, eagerly waiting for Ward, the Beav (Not to be confused with the 'Biebs') and Wally to come home, so she could dote on them hand and foot, make their favorite meat-and-potato dinners... followed by a from-scratch apple pie that is cooling on the window ledge... and keep her opinions to herself.

Not that there is anything wrong with that scenario... because there truly isn't. It's a beautiful thing. It just wasn't what I ever wanted in my life. I am a product of the 80s and 90s. I always saw myself being strong, intelligent, self-sufficient, and successful. Bitch... I don't need no man! I'm gonna pay my own bills! (I learned that from Latifah, TLC, Beyonce and the ladies of Destiny's Child... I'm not gonna burn your house down... or use correct grammar... but I'm gonna pay my damn bills...) :) Women, to me, were CEOs of companies, making shitloads of money, being almost 'equals' with Men... You clearly had no drive or self confidence if you didn't work your ass off. My Mom gave up her career, and was a SAHM/Housewife. It didn't really appeal to me... until I had kids. :)

Once upon a time, I did have a pretty killer career. For many years, I was a young, single, girl... partying and working my ass off. It was a very rewarding place to be. If I wanted something... I got it. On my own. If I wanted to take a vacation... I booked it and left. If I didn't feel like doing laundry... I went shopping. I paid other people's bills... and took pride in being able to help. People asked me what I 'do'... and I never hesitated to tell them exactly what I did. I was proud as hell! I was the girl who was booked out weeks in advance with people's hair appointments. My clients, whose hair was so important to them, freaked out on me when I left for a month to go to Europe. You should have heard the meltdowns about 9 weeks of maternity leave. They needed me. And I needed them. I was self sufficient, passionate, doing what I had set out to do, and yet... I had this nagging feeling that something was missing. How can that be?

When I hooked up with my Husband (obviously boyfriend back then) I knew that was it. I knew he was the one I was going to build a life with, and eventually breed with. (Again... wanted my kids to have those eyes... I win!) :) He was gorgeous, had an amazing work ethic, was so sweet and respectful, and we had so much fun together. I literally never looked back. He had a good job... but I was making 3 times as much money as he was back then. It was ok in my eyes. His... not so much. When we went to qualify for our house, (We wasted no time... it was within the first year... I also had pushy bitch on my resume) I am the one whose income mattered most. He hated that. Or... he secretly liked it... hard to tell with him... :) Little did he know how quickly that would change. (Like... 'I was pregnant when we bought our house' quickly...) We should probably talk about some stuff.... like... we will never play 'Hid the Pickle' at Christmas again. At least until we are married... capiche!? :)

After giving birth to, who I happen to think is the most perfect, little, specimen to walk the planet, I realized my passions were elsewhere. It started to make so much sense to me how women have such a hard time juggling everything. Maybe those June Cleaver types were onto something, after all. One minute you are a happy, successful, independent woman.... payin' yo bills. The next thing you know... you are dirty, sleep deprived, exhausted like never before,  and what the fuck are you wearing!?! Your boobs are leaking in public, and you don't care... and you are depended upon. Not by some wealthy client, in for her monthly 200 dollar service, but by this little person. Who would actually die without you. Whoa. I have to say, I was still in the mindset that I needed to work my arse off to be 'worth' something. So... after 9 weeks, I returned to work. I was broken hearted... and suddenly... not passionate about people's hair... or anything else for that matter. I wanted to be home with my baby girl. I was actually jealous of my Sister, who was home with her, 3 days a week while I worked. It was nice to get out of the house, and be social again, but my heart wasn't in it. I get it, June. (And Mom...) I would haul ass home, on my 45 minute drive from work, just to have missed her. She was already sleeping. Fuck. I'm not good at this. Tears were flowing regularly. My poor Husband. I mean... HE has to work everyday... but it's different. He knows that now.

 Shortly thereafter, I switched jobs. I moved to a salon a couple miles from my house. I was renting my station, and in charge of making my own schedule... I could get used to this :) After my second child, within 2 years, I gave up working days all together. I worked 3 nights a week, and it was a pretty good deal. I got to still be 'me', and I still contribute enough financially, that I'm at peace, and still can justify the spordic, manic, purchase from time to time. I get to be home with my babies, and I can sneak out for Thursday night happy hour with my work besties, after work, without guilt... cuz I am already out... and you can't stop me :) It's funny... When I became a SAHM, there wasn't facebook to show off their first... everythings, and feel like I was being somewhat 'social' from my living room computer. No Pinterest, to find activities for the overwhelmed mommy. There weren't 'Mommy Blogs' either... to read and find support when I wanted to throw in the towel. It was me, and my babies. It was the hardest thing I ever did, and I started to kind of miss being 'somebody' in the real world. My Husband's job got better and better. We did well for many years, with my little bit of an income. (My clients all ditched me when I moved across town... oh well. That was a good way to weed out the crazies..) I never quit my job all together... that wouldn't work either. I had a good thing going, and kids that napped. I worked out, yapped on the phone, and played till 4... then off to work. Low and behold... I'm balanced :)


I will never be the SAHM/Housewife you see on Bravo. (Or, the city I live in...) Although, part of me is thankful for those broads. They have made the word 'housewife' make a very attractive comeback. Nowadays, you can be at home, work some, take pride in things, and speak your mind.... all while being the 'housewife'. I will never have that opportunity, but I don't hate. I don't have a slew of staff that do my 'grunt work' for me, or a nanny (or 3) to look after my children, while I'm off at the Country Club playing tennis, or out to lunch with my other fancy girlfriends. I won't work out at the elite fitness clubs or live in a gated community. I live in a community that is full of that... excess everywhere you look. I don't let it get to me when I'm driving through stunning neighborhoods, while my kids oooh and aaaah over the castle-like mansions we are passing by... that their friends live in... (Ok... sometimes I let it get to me... but I made a conscious choice to be home. Not that my Stylist income would help us attain that lifestyle anyway... I will never be that chick... I married for love... did they? Wait a minute... I hate these people! Well.. your Husband looks like a Cro Magnun! And your kids are mini magnons... so there!) :) I'm just trying to find the happy medium between this

 
and the new and improved version... Housewife on 'roids...

It's doable, right? :) I mean... Even though I am the staff around here, and the personal chef etc... Who says you need breast implants, mansions, sugar daddies, live in nannies, Botox, Jimmy Choos, Birkin bags, Bentleys and bleach to be a happy housewife. I can throw in the morals, values, cooking skills, etc... (Man... that was a shorter list) and combine the best of June and Tamra. :) I do know the Housewife title in my life is going to be short lived. Eventually, my kids will be gone, and I'll be bored to tears, looking back at this time fondly, and wishing they had an activity or play date for me to bring them to. I have no regrets. Well... that's a lie. I have some regrets. Looking at myself today, I have a long way to go before I'm at my happy medium between June and Tamra. I'm sure my 3 inch roots, mom-boobs, farmer tan, non-botoxed wrinkles, Isaac Mizrahi (for Target) flip flops, and toenail polish that has been dissolved by Deet... because I have to be outside with my kids... cuz my nanny doesn't exist... wouldn't fly in the glamorous O.C.. But I take June-like pride in the fact that none of that actually matters. (Although... not even June would condone my feet right now... get a pedi, you dirt ball. The 'ya dipped those feet in battery acid and walked on hot coals, didn't ya' look is out...) Fresh apple pie IS amazing :) Is that considered balance?

Nobody can explain why some women choose the career path, and some don't. I believe, unless it is strictly financial, (I totally get that) it is a personality thing. Completely driven by need for success. I guess, ultimately, as much as I thought that was my personality, that isn't me. (But it kind of is...) Who knew? I can't say part of me doesn't wish things would have played out differently... I always dwell on the what ifs. For now, as much as I hate saying the word... I am a Housewife. (Part time Stylist... SEE! had to throw it in there!) I'm dealing with it, and learning to accept it. :)

I must run... gotta go pick up a kid, and the laundry blob has doubled since I sat down to type this... Anyone need their hair done? Just get a hold of your favorite Housewife/stylist, Salina/Junemra :) OMG!! Who AM I!?!? I'm calling Latifah.. If she doesn't answer... I'm asking Beyonce! :)