This is hard for me to admit, but I’m doing it for the other crappy homemakers out there who put on the requisite facade of being a good suburban wife, but would rather be playing Angry Birds.
Yes, I will be their poster child – if I can have an Angry Bird sitting on my shoulder. You know, like a pirate for the age of technology.
Or if I could wear this bra!
We’ll negotiate the terms later.
You’re welcome.
You see, the truth is, not since the 60s has anyone judged women on their housekeeping abilities. Well, not since the 60s have they admitted to it, but it happens everyday. Sure we’re super moms, super wives, super business people, but don’t think any of us are above coming into your house and assessing the clutter on your kitchen counter. Well, I do, but only in hopes that yours is worse than mine and then I can exhale a sigh of “wow you REALLY suck.” Mentally, of course!
You can imagine how hard I find it to see what food I'm buying with that hat on! But I do it for YOU!
All the stuff I do, to seem with it and on the ball – my facade – it’s for you. I know you’re judging me, checking to see if my beds have hospital corners, if our whites are whiter, if our towels are April soft, if I pack my kids a hearty lunch with all 3 food groups represented. (relax, I know their are only 2).
So I’m going to come clean (pun intended) and tell you, THEY’RE NOT. Frankly, I’m a disaster when it comes to doing all that stuff, because it requires me to keep a bunch of mundane shit in my head. Between doctors appointments, sporting events, dance practices, teacher meetings, PTA information, how many meals I will have to make for one to get eaten and getting a good deal on a Dyson, I can barely keep my head from spinning off my body.
Only those people super close to me,watched me clean up a flood from on over filled bath, or had me forget their name in their presence, know that I’m a fake and a phony. Oh, and now you guys.
Oh, and one other person… my cleaning lady. She’s sooo on to me. Seriously, I try to seem like I like things a certain way, but frankly she could do a mild dusting and spray Lysol in every room and I’d find it acceptably clean.
Anywho, much to my embarrassment, my cleaning lady arrived the other day with a bag full of new supplies for me… and a receipt.
Evidently, the thought of me borrowing a cup of detergent from my neighbor (AGAIN) was so unnerving; she took matters into her own hands.
Clearly, I’ve become so unreliable, so useless, that others don’t trust me to accomplish even the smallest of tasks.
Just because my to-do lists resemble this,
TO DO:
Wake Up
Feed Dog
Shower
Sanitize kids
Apply sunblock to things that are exposed to the sun
Buy cleaning supplies
Keep spark in marriage alive
Floss…
doesn’t mean I can’t be a responsible parent, homemaker or wife. It just means I can’t be expected to remember to clean or feed myself and family without a little reminder. So what? I make-do.
Truth be told, I come from a long line of disorganized “make-doers.” For years, my own mother fed me butter sandwiches whenever we ran out of other healthy choices, like thick slices of Hebrew National salami or Oscar Mayer bologna. Both of which were cushioned by two slices over-bleached nutrient-free Wonder Bread.
If we were out of butter she used margarine, and if we were out of that, she used dirt. Of course all sandwiches, whether dirt or bologna were nicely complimented by an array of hearty sides. An artery clogging bag of Utz potato chips, cavity causing Butterscotch Krimpets, and a colored sugar water that came in a barrel.
Back to my cleaning lady. I realized, I could respond to her gesture one of two ways:
1. Embarrassment –
I could feel totally ashamed that I can’t seem to fulfill my own domestic duties when a woman with 3 kids, that often cleans 2 houses a day, manages to do find the time to do them for me.
2. Anger –
I could be pretty pissed that another woman would do the my job, though the fact that I have a house cleaner in the first place would make that a moot point.
I went with the obvious choice, C. Be Thankful. Frankly, I was happy that someone else took it upon themselves to do that crap for me.
I gave her a huge hug to convey that this is a system I can totally live with and fully approve of. Yes, I have no shame, and I wanted to make sure she fully realized that. I also wanted to imply that future unsolicited trips to do my errands would be most appreciated.
I was over-joyed. Who knew that simply shirking my responsibilities could lead to such a positive outcome?
Which brings me to my main question: Why don’t more people take over aspects of my life unsolicited?
For years I’ve missed doctor’s appointment after doctor’s appointment and not once has a doctor made a preemptive strike by showing up at my door to give me or my children exams.
Me: Let me understand, I am so unreliable that you have decided to give me an internal at home?
Gyno: Yep. I know how forgetful you are due to the important and time consuming blogging and parenting that you do. Important people like yourself are the royalty of my practice the unsung heroes, if you will. It’s my pleasure, nay, my honor to come to you.
Me: Wow, that is horrifyingly embarrassing, no eye-opening, no… AWESOME of you. Do you mind if I play Fruit Ninja while we do this?
Gyno: No Problem?
Me: Great. Take that you sour lemon… No Doc, I was talking to the fruit. You’re a real peach… Yep, that time I was talking to you. Now, bring on the speculum. (There’s a phrase I don’t use often, but certainly often enough.)
Now, let’s look at birthday parties. I can’t remember the last time I RSVP’d for one of those ordeals. Many moms have taken the extra step to hunt me down via email, voice mail, evite note or a combination of all three to get my “Yay” or “Nay,” yet not once has a mom taken it upon herself to swing by my house on the way to her child’s shindig and give my kid a lift.
By the way, you can pick up a gift while you’re at it. Hell, you know what your kid wants more than I do and frankly, I can’t be expected to have a present if you’re going to pick my child up with the assumption that I didn’t remember your child’s party in the first place. I mean, duh?
While we’re at it, if all my neighbors and pretty much everyone I’ve ever met could take to wearing name tags… that would be incredibly helpful.
You guys are so understanding (whatever your names are)!
Thanks,
Jenny From the Blog