"Bless it to our use..."

I have come to the strange realization that I may have hit a major life milestone. Seriously. I have finally come to realize that I am a housewife.

Now, you have to understand that my mom was a career gal, and I have never lived with a housewife, so I've never really known what it means.

When I was ten years old, we did spend our after-school hours at the Sawyers' house. Their mom smoked cigarettes and sat around listening to the radio and trying to get her teenagers to clean their own rooms. Here's how I remember her, except for having a dark tan. The strange part? Her house was immaculate.


The housewives I knew in the 80's were all hippies, and God knows what good causes they worked for while breastfeeding in public. The other moms I knew from the 90's were working for pay and trying to keep the filth from piling up too high at home. The moms I knew from when my kids were small were taking the toddlers to Starbucks while the maid cleaned the house. God forbid we should clean it ouselves.

Now, my kids were born at the cusp of the millennium, so you'd think over the last 10 years, I'd have seen this identity crisis coming, but no. I was always either working part-time, planning to work part-time, or figuring out when I had to go back to working full-time. The time I spent at home with the kids was as a mom, trying to teach the children not to pee on the couch. I was not a housewife; I was a mom. (I looked just like this. Really.)


See, I was raised by a feminist in the 70's -- whatever the men had, it was better than what we had, and we had to have it. Equal pay for equal work? Yup. The independence to choose our own way in life without having to depend on someone else? Yup. The choice to avoid pregnancy as long as possible? Yup. The ability to make our own dreams? Yup. All these things were part of my lexicon. The idea that I would end up being a housewife was inconceivable. The last generation to do that in my family was born in 1912.



Someone once asked my mom at which age she most enjoyed her children. It had never occurred to her that she was supposed to "enjoy" them. Sure, she loved us dearly and we were an important part of her life, but "enjoy"? Heh?

So here I am. I've been homeschooling for two and a half years. It's almost like a full-time job with these kids, so I never considered myself a housewife. After all, housewives treat their houses like an extra child, requiring work, washing, and planning. I was just trying to get around to vacuuming when I could.

But you know what I just figured out? I like being able to open the futon and not find a big fat line of corn chip crumbs down the center. I like being able to lie on any floor in my house without checking it first. I like having my shit together. It's awesome!

Call me crazy, but I kind of like it. It's a big part of how I nurture my family. Flylady calls it "blessing the house". Other people put it more simply as a way to stay organized.

We had an old dinner blessing that went something like, "Bless it to our use and us to your service."

Yeah, something like that.

(Just don't tell my mom.)