A homemaker’s murmurs

You know, they don’t call you housewife (a wife married to a house?!) any more.  That is gender specific, being regarded as discrimination since the ’70s.  So  you’ve been given fancier titles – homemaker; domestic engineer; home and family facilitator. It does look better when filling in forms.  Does it do any good to your self-esteem, if you were a career woman in your other life?

I am not sure.

Come and look at the job of a homemaker, as defined in the Simple English Wikipedia.  The list is made up of 32 bullet points.  Shall I copy and paste it here?  On second thoughts, I shouldn’t bother you if you aren’t already aware of  what a homemaker has been doing, day in day out.  But if you must know, click here: http://www.simple.wikipedia.org/wiki/Homemaker

Going through the list, I can safely say I score only average.  Hence the dispirited self.  I have already confessed previously that I hate four letter words – cook, dust, iron, wash.  Have I also mentioned that I do not have green fingers, I have brown thumbs, gradually killing all the house plants?  I am not one of the house proud.

Moreover, there is one particular area I fail miserably.  Caring for pets.  Not that I mistreat them.  Just that we don’t have any.  You want the truth?  We don’t allow any.  Well.  I don’t allow any.  They have always wanted a cat.  But anything with four legs that moves is not going to be anywhere near me.  I have made that clear in no uncertain terms.  So they have Brendan and Charlie instead (remember the bees?).

Anne Tyler once said – “I was standing in the school yard waiting for a child when another mother came up to me.  Have you found work yet?  Or are you still just writing?”   I feel for her.  Do you think she would have empathy for a homemaker too?

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