A Cooler Spot on the Pillow

I’m 28 years old. This means I was born in the 80’s, a time when women were trying to break through that glass ceiling. These women were forgoing kids and marriage for power suites and corner offices. They wanted to be seen as equals and taken seriously on Wall Street. I remember watching “Baby Boom” the movie with Diane Keaton she was a powerhouse, a force to be reckoned with. Remember she always wore the same really-bland-conservative-grey suite, so as not to accentuate the fact that she had breasts and hips? Working 60 even 80 hours a week just so she could be looked at, not as a women, but an invaluable executive.

I WANTED TO BE HER.

That’s what it’s all about, isn’t it? That’s why they burned their bras in the 60’s and fought for the freedom of choice and birth control in the 70’s? It was told to us both subliminally and with stentorophonic urgency that we don’t need a man. We could depend on ourselves and do it just as good if not better then a man.

In Junior high school if any one asked me what I wanted to be when I grew up I said either a corporate attorney or a best-selling author. I never said I want to be a housewife or a stay-at-home Mommy. Who wants to do that? That’s not an admirable occupation; you can’t possibly use your brain staying home eating bon bons and clipping coupons all day. That kind of woman is only going to pull us 10 steps back, back to a time where women donned aprons and had dinner ready and a highball glass of Maker’s Mark waiting for her man.

I AM THAT WOMAN

Well sort of. I don’t wear an apron; I prefer to just wipe my hands on my low-rise jeans. I clip coupons but I have the majority of them emailed to me. I do not eat bon bons. I don’t think I’ve ever actually seen one to be perfectly honest. I do try to have dinner ready and waiting but I’m more likely to drink that highball of whisky (with sour mix) then have one waiting. Besides he likes Bacardi anyway. Still, the fact of the matter is, I love it. I love being at home with my kids. I love being able to run my household and know, emphatically, that no one else can do my job. I can’t be replaced, demoted or terminated.

I guess to the outside world it does look a little trivial when I rattle off my schedule for any given week.


Monday is dance and swimming lessons.
Tuesday we have a play date at the park.
Wednesday is movie day and library story time.
Thursday is another play date with my knitting group.
Friday is family day.
Saturday is craft day and another trip to the library.
Sunday is church and other activities with church friends such as feeding the homeless.



Of course I didn’t include grocery shopping, PTA meetings laundry, vacuuming, mopping, blogging, and all my other motherly duties. You can’t tell me all of that isn’t work that requires brain power. It takes savvy to even find activities for your kids that are fun, educational and affordable.



That’s not the point and this isn’t one of those manifestos declaring that homemakers do just as much and deserve the same respect and admiration as Sandra Day O’Conner. I don’t really care if some think my life is simple or easy. If they think I sit around all day watching soaps and painting my toes then so be it. I don’t have to justify my life choices to anyone.



As a matter of fact, my career path has surprised me just as much as it surprises anyone else my age who asks what I “do”. How an 80’s baby could become a retro mama is a mystery to me. Let’s not forget I’m a black woman, which means I’m really supposed to be out there showing them what I’m made of. Not home scrapbooking shots of the baby using her “big-girl” cup and knitting a cable throw to match my newly decorated master bedroom.

I know I’m not the only one my age who is in the same position. Wondering how we got here when most of our mothers weren’t homemakers. Just as sure as I am that there are women out there who would love to be in my shoes.

Next week: “The Rocky Road to being a Dependent Woman”

Picture credits to: http://www.stitchthrutime.com/