I’ve been a stay-at-home mother for almost 2 years now. It’s been a hell of a learning curve and I have had to shift my entire understanding of who I am and what I want in order to embrace this lifestyle that is dedicated to nothing but the archetypes of mother and wife. I almost don’t recognize myself as the person with ten years of private education, social and cultural exposure, and thoughts that extended past the meal plan for the week to ponder to mysteries of the universe. I’ve tried to find the enrichment and fulfillment that some women seem to find within those parameters with ease. I say that at least a little in mockery of myself because it becomes self-imposed at a certain point, but out of necessity. I can’t focus on the daily things, that I once chided as mundane and suffocating, if I am pre-occupied with social injustice and general badassery in my shriveled and atrophied mind. I can plan and execute a housework/toddler roundup/commuting/soccer/ballet/homework/dinner/bath/bed schedule to rival even the best personal assistants but I can’t seem to entertain an existential Ayn-Rand moment without feeling stupid and confused.
**I need to confess something, and it helps plead my case** I had to look up each and every SAT word I used just to make I wasn’t just pretending I still knew those words. Do you know how depressing that is for a nerd girl who used to make cross-lists from Roget’s Thesaurus when she was a kid?
I can’t even hold a normal conversation anymore because my train of thought sputters, backs up, and just flops on its side before it embarks on any creative journey. Accustomed to the attention spans of three children under the age of 13, I think in short bursts of efficient thought. It’s kind of like a Twitter parade. Three kids speaking in staccato at different and varying volumes all…day…long. Some days I don’t have to will to complain and others I’m just seething and barking at anyone who speaks above a barely audible whisper.
HOWEVER, I feel as though the abrupt pause in my personal and internal musings has made me a more critical and practical person. That’s not to say I was ever flighty or prone to fancy, but I used to see mystery in all things and now I’m just annoyed that the mystery gets in the way of my 12 hour rotation. I got shit to do and I don’t have time for all these other 20-somethings and their free time and social lives. But secretly I’m like “Well fuck ya’ll, for not inviting me!” but then when I’m invited I’m like “Fuck that, I’m busy and tired!” I don’t think that my experience is unique by any stretch. But this is me I’m talking about, not some hypothetical other person that is probably happy in all her decisions and accomplishments thus far and is happy to take refuge in the success and care of her children and husband because she got plenty accomplished and developed before lockdown. Yeah, I’m an asshole and I’m also that frumpy housewife that wears the same outfit day in and out just to reduce the laundry load I inflict upon my person. And your immediate thought was “ugh, I feel sorry for her husband.” but I’m like “fuck that shit!” I pick up enough trash and dirty socks from my kitchen counter and floors that I reserve the right be downright disgusting and undesirable. Ever hear of weapons of the weak? Here are my favorites:
1. Drink out of the milk jug and watch with evil satisfaction when other people in the house use it for their cereal. (Pro-tip: keep an extra carton for guests)
2. Shut down software and active programs needed for remote access. Wait for agitated texts/phone calls
3. Troll the kids at regular intervals. Today, convinced (absent-mindedly managed to do this) my grade-schooler that chickens have eyebrows used to frown at little kids who ask a lot of questions.
4. See how many days I can go without grooming before anyone in the house says anything. You don’t want to know.
5. See how long I can enforce the “If it’s yellow, leave it mellow” rule before a) the husband has to get the plunger because of the enormous wad of paper or b) he flushes and complains and I start an argument about why it’s practical and now I have to start all over again. TROLOLOLOL.
I used to be such an openly assertive and fair person. Now I’m an ankle-biting opportunist with a penchant for spreading emotional confusion. Marriage has taught me things my $100,000 education could never write a syllabus to cover. Manipulation, guilt, and subtle coercion are not tactics I admire, but they sure save on energy. Maybe the worst part of it all is that I’m not even ashamed that I suck at this. Wait…Is this really what marriage is?! It’s just like Everybody Loves Raymond but with a bunch of socially awkward penguins. FFFFFFFFFFFUUUUUUUUUUU
TL;DR housewife doesn’t have a life. likes to complain that she’s squandering her potential, which probably isn’t true anymore anyway because she’s pushing 30. learns how to be an awesomely efficient troll wife.