Domestication

Now let me get this disclaimer out in front before I start getting set on fire by anybody out there beyond the 3 people that I’m aware of who are reading this blog.

 

I do not believe that my place in the world is in the kitchen, barefoot and pregnant with my tenth kid, making sure dinner is on the table precisely on time because my husband works hard to provide for me and our small village of progeny.  I do not believe that a woman does not belong in the workforce and should not have a career.  I do not believe that a man cannot stay home and care for his family any less capably than a woman can.  I do not believe that just because all of my plumbing is internal, I am inferior.

 

There, now that I have gotten that out of the way.

 

I am a woman.  I am a modern, strong, independent, caring and confident woman.  I long for a career, not just a job.  I do want a family, and I am fortunate to have found a man who loves me just as I am.  That being said, I do like cooking.  I do like making my home look beautiful.  I do like doing things that are relegated to older women and stay-at-home-moms.

 

Do I think that pay disparity is a crime? Yes.  Do I think that women who can do the equal work as a man deserve equal pay? Hell yes.  Do I think that just because I am a modern, strong, and independent woman I need to go out and prove it every day for the rest of my life by killing myself in a career and having a family?  Hell no.

 

That is a choice for each woman, and each man, to make.  But this post isn’t supposed to be about pay disparity and sexism in the workforce and whether I can be both Rosie the Riveter and June Cleaver all rolled up into one nice package with lots of attitude, lots of brains, and one helluva lot of curves.

 

This post is supposed to be about the domestic things that I love.  I love to cook. I love to bake, though not as much as the cooking, it’s harder to fudge recipes in baking..stupid science.  I love to crochet.  I love decorating for the holidays and the seasons and I love love love making the house look good.

 

I want to be that dinner party hostess with the fantastic recipe that you just can’t wait to get your hands on.  I want to be that woman who has her own style, and while you might not be finding it on the pages of a fashion magazine anytime in the near future, You know who I am when you look at me.  I want to be the woman with the house that people want to visit, for both the warm company and the great times.

 

I want to be the girlfriend/fiancee/wife that can be spoken of with pride.  And one day, I’d love to be the awesome mom that all the kids want to come and stay the night, or the weekend.

 

I have, in this day and age, absolutely no problem with being a stay at home mom. A housewife.  A homemaker.  Do I want a career? Yes.  Can I survive on just having a job? I’ve done it before, I can do it again.  This is about me coming to the realization that I can do all these things, and it’s not a great sin against my sex or my ancestors to do so.

 

My maternal grandmother was born in February 1913 in Philadelphia, Pennsylvania.  She was 16 years old when the stock market crashed and the country fell into the Great Depression.  My grandmother took care of her grandmother, her mother and father, as well as her husband and children through the 1940’s and 50’s.  And, she did all of that while having a career as a legal secretary and working with the Deaf and Blind children at Overbrook school in Philadelphia.

 

And let me tell you, if anybody could handle that workload, it was my grandmother.  Now, I’m not saying that I welcome such a profound challenge to my abilities, but if she could do it back then, I can do it now.  And I would have no problem living up to such a task.

 

But, if I didn’t have to, if I could stay at home and cook and clean and make sure that dinner was on the table for my husband and children every night?  I could do that too.  With just as much enthusiasm and eagerness as the other opportunities.

 

There is nothing wrong in this day and age with staying home.  There is nothing wrong with liking being the homemaker.  Provided that your staying home and doing such a thing doesn’t bankrupt your family in anyway, or harm your children or your marriage.  But if you have the ability, the chance, and the possibility to stay home, and you would like to, than do it.

 

Having said all of that, I’m positive that my staying at home would leave me one very very bored young woman.  And I would want to be out, exploring and learning.  And yes, I would like to have a job.  I would feel guilty for not bringing in any money to the household and I would have to find some way to make up for those shortfalls in the budget.

 

I want to work.  I want to have a career, or at the very least a job.  But I also like to stay home.  I like to be the caretaker.  I like to be the solid foundation of the familial unit.

 

I am not a bra-burning feminist.  I like my bras.  But I am a feminist in my own right.  I want to be treated as an equal, as a human being, as a person.  But I want the right to decide for myself, just where my place in this world will be.

 

 

It rambled a bit in the middle there, this post was a lot more poetic in my head when i was thinking it through, but there it is, my thoughts on this subject matter.  For the moment.

 

They could change. I’m a woman, I change my mind.

 

It’s my prerogative.