Don’t call me suzie-homemaker or housewifey. Especially Domesticated Diva. The only things that are domesticated are dogs. I never thought I would be a married homemaker or married or a homemaker. I came from a home where tradition of the American housewife was unheard of. My mother was a career woman with business meetings, social brunches and charities to plan. She was a rebel in her own culture and I was proud to follow suit.
After a few bad breakups, and of having an independent spirit, I never believed I would be a wife. Not just a partner in marriage, but have completely different lifestyle. I really wish I would have taken that Home Economics class in HS, but maybe it would have confirmed that I can’t cook, I can’t clean. The biggest challenge in my life is not finding the meaning of life, but learning to multitask the cooking and cleaning.
No, I’m not stupid, you’d think a college educated woman would know how to pick up a sponge or two and scrub away. No, dear readers. This lifestyle, even after two years, is like learning a new language.
I didn’t expect my life to be planned out as this.
I have worked since I was 13, lived on my own, traveled on my own, paid my own education and rent, yet I don’t know how I ended up asking my husband if I could shop. Actually, I don’t even know how I ended up with a husband. Ten years ago I was planning my life on my own accord, and the words husband and marriage were not in my vocabulary, not even in my future.
Please, I’m not complaining of the way I live. It sounds like a wife complaining of having the luxury to work from home and have a husband take care of me It may read as a glamorous and privileged, but it’s far from. I love my life, marriage and my husband but I was thrown into this way of living, and not expected the resentments, fears, anger, and joys all at once. It feels like something as simple as a light switch, it was so sudden. I have no idea how I ended up with responsibility so foreign, my own mother could barely help me out, and it was Martha Stewart to the rescue.
As much as I love the idea that I can fit a stereotype devoted to watching Oprah and eating chocolates all day, I’m a little disturbed that I can fit a stereotype devoted to watching Oprah and eating chocolates all day. Of course I don’t sit at home and clip coupons, but with complete solitude, and a mindset of a modern age, it’s difficult to grasp the idea that I am considered a dying traditional way of living for women. Someone out there must know how I feel, right? *crickets??*
And so begins a new-sometimes-regularly-irregular series called, for lack of a better word or phrase, Diana vs The Household, a blog series documenting my trials, and virtues about my life and the unexpected detour of becoming suzie-homemaker. I’ll be looking forward to sharing, and your encouraging commentary is always welcome to help my adventure.