the happy housewife
I ran through my mental inventory of things I wanted to get done today: tidy up the kitchen, get the chicken marinated for dinner tonight, feed Jack and give him a dose of antibiotics, and do some laundry. I thought about making an appointment to get my hair cut, and what sort of snacks to whip up next week for the girls from our antenatal class. I made up a small batch of the soup I want to serve on Saturday to Gary and Ruth; it's a new recipe and I wanted to test it out first (it's good!). I accepted a parcel for the neighbours across the road because they weren't in.
Today, it hit me: I am a housewife.
Now before a gang of angry stay at home mothers show up at my door, I want to make it clear that I don't think there's anything wrong with being a housewife. My mother is one and her mother was before her. I just never imagined that job description would apply to me one day. I no longer have any deadlines, I can get things done during the day, and I don't spend my evenings thinking about documentation I need to work on the following day. I've been on maternity leave for just over two months now, and I've only just stopped wondering what's been going on with the product I worked on, and if I left things in a manageable state.
You know what? It's kind of nice to be a housewife. My days are filled with a new kind of busy and a different world of responsibilities. I thought I would feel a bit depressed about life away from the office, but surprisingly, it ain't half bad. I have to run - I have an urgent meeting with a young client who requires assistance with a nutritional matter.