I have now been home and not working for 20 days, but it feels like a thousand. I feel like a housewife reject. As a housewife, there are myriad things to do around the house like cleaning and organizing and cocaine, but that's for normal housewives. I'm a reject, as in 'my house rejects my half-assed efforts at cleaning and organization', or 'I reject all things housewifey and here's my middle finger for emphasis'. I'm trying, but motivation isn't a big factor in a day that has no schedule or boundaries; I woke up today when you were having lunch, is what I'm trying to say. I opened my eyes at the exact same moment you were wishing you could go home. Now I'm trying to figure out what to eat for lunch, but the thought process is making me sleepy; I might need to take a nap in order to make a real decision. Or maybe I need a household staff--they could help me make a decision, and then, quite literally, make my food for me. It's good to be solution-oriented.
I guess what women do at home is raise children, otherwise what else would they do? That doesn't sound very appealing to me. I'm too tired right now for procreation, a nine-month gestational period, and a lifetime of MOM CAN I PLEASE HAVE SOME MONEY I WILL TOTALLY PAY YOU BACK. It's hard enough having a part-time kid already. Something people won't tell you before having children is that children are disappointing, but only if you're a control freak like me. They generally oppose everything you enjoy, which makes sense, but no one told me it was going to be EVERYTHING.
Whether it's music, fashion, design, humor, literature, politics, favorite color, food, sneaker brand, or bed time expectations, my son rejects pretty much everything I like, simply because I like it. I'm sure this is just karma coming home to roost, but it's somewhat disappointing. Even if you're childless, surely you can understand wanting to share your favorite things with a child: your childhood beach cabin, holiday traditions, your favorite record, the best way to eat a Reese's. Being a very opinionated control freak, myself, I want to share those things with my son, but he's not having it. Granted, he'll probably grow into Indian food, strangely-colored hair dye, and a better taste in music (all things I want for him), but I'd like him to grow into those things now, thanks. Of course I accept and love him for who he is, and who he is going to become, but does he have to listen to Godsmack? Does he have to prefer stale pizza over Thai food? Will he ever stop loving the Almighty Whoopie Cushion? (Answer: no.) Wait, go back.... SERIOUSLY?! GODSMACK?! I blame his father for his musical tastes--if you can call Creed and Nickelback 'musical', or music at all--although truthfully, I blame him for everything. The cultural revolution happening in South Tacoma, where my son lives, is pretty much non-existent, so I guess I blame Tacoma. Or maybe Canada. All I know is, anyone who doesn't like Thai food is dead to me, so I hope he jumps on the bandwagon soon.
Anyways, I don't really mind the rejected housewife thing, but I resent that in just 20 short days, I'm already thinking like them. I go stir crazy all day long, starting or finishing projects, singing along to the Ipod or talking to myself--then the Esq gets home and I pounce on him, begging for adult conversation and following him around like a neglected dog. And even though I try to avoid the attitude of 'I just slaved away all day for you and need some validation', that's the exact attitude I adopt. Of course he wants to relax, chill on the computer, take some Me Time after his daily grind, but by the time he gets home, I'm all YOU DON'T NEED ANYTHING BUT ME, JUST ME, NOTHING ELSE, HERE IS A HAMMER, SEE HOW IT CONNECTS WITH YOUR MONITOR NICELY, NO NEED TO THANK ME. This is why I need a job, even something part-time: to save me--and the people around me--from myself.