Nov 13 2008
what’s yours is mine…
I am not a good housewife. NieNie is a good housewife.
She dresses up for when her husband comes home from work. I do not. (this list could go on and on. it doesn’t paint me in the best light so I will stop it here)
When my husband and I both worked outside of the home, I didn’t even do his laundry. (because really, I did the grocery shopping and all the cooking and didn’t think that was particularly fair so I drew the line at laundry) Now, however, I stay home, which means that all of those domestic tasks are mine. All mine.
I frequently revolt against being a housewife, largely because I am no good at it. But today I got to pull out all the stops and earned enough housewife points to never have to sweep the floor again.
Paulie woke up at 6:30 and had to make a flight leaving at 7:15. Did I mention we are about 30 minutes from the airport? He freaked out and asked me to get up and make him coffee (because in our family, if there’s going to be a crisis, we prefer to at least have some caffeine to weather it). I did so and then:
found him a pair of black pants
packed him snacks for the plane
packed breath mints
packed his cell phone etc.
attached his computer code thingy to his key chain so he can log in remotely
poured his coffee and added ice cubes so he can drink it in the car
and yes, even held out his coat so he could slip into it on his way out the door.
Then kissed him and sent him on his way. He made the flight.
So I practiced a not-so-random act of kindness on my husband. Then I went and dusted off my copy of the Feminine Mystique, just in case. Pick one up for yourself and read it instead of cleaning the house.
