Let's Get Real

So, I am volunteering at the middle school front office, having a lovely morning, as always, with the women that work there.  One was absent, so a male teacher came up during his free period to do paperwork at her empty desk.  Unusual choice, so someone asked him why:

Someone: "Anthony, what are you doing up here?"
Anthony: "I came up here to hang out with the East Cobb Housewives."

In case you are wondering, he was referring to me.

Me: "Who you calling a housewife?!"

Because I took offense.  Look, I am a wife and I have a house.  Lots of women do. But I am not this: 

 

That is what "housewife" means to me.  It connotes home-bound, or subservient, or Stepford.  There are millions of women who do not work, but they are not housewives.  They are many interesting things, ranging from partners, mothers, aunts, daughters, sisters, volunteers, friends, managers, nurturers, hobbyists ... but they are not just that one thing.  And that's why I hate the term.

I happen to work from home, which means I have the flexibility to volunteer. I also happen to be a terrible cook and cleaner.  When my husband comes home from work, I am in sweats and a ponytail.  But I can buy a birthday present like a motherf*$@er.  Ain't no housewife here.

What Anthony found out later in the conversation is that I went to the same prestigious college as his brother and sister-in-law, that I have a quick wit and excellent customer service skills, and that he has a small penis.

It's OK.  Women are used to getting a bad rap.  We're damned for being career-minded and we're damned for being family-minded.  And if you even attempt to do both, well, then you better have a good pharmacist.

I love that we live in a world where women get to choose.  And I can't wait for Anthony's 2-year-old daughter to give him a run for his money.

Until next time, keep crowin'!