The Reluctant Housewife –

I’m unemployed. I have been for six weeks. I have worked since I was eighteen years old. That means this is the first time in over thirty years I am not working because –I really can’t get used to this concept – I am unemployed. That’s a hard word ‘unemployed’.

I quit my job. I had the job for four months but knew after two weeks it would probably not work but I had to give it a shot. Make it work!

This job was going to be the amazing amalgam of “good work” and more money than I had ever made. I am not going to tell you how much that is because my entire work history is ‘good work’ for ‘low pay’ so the amount is in comparison to my previous experience and so by most standards not amazing. But, I would start paying in to my retirement after five years of not and my husband would quit his second job. Thank you, 2008 you really eff’ing bite – still.

Why I left. Let’s say there is a continuum and on one end was the book Who Moved My Cheese? (Which I have never read but I am guessing it’s about people who are super particular about where their cheese is.) And – at the other end of the continuum is what it must be like to work for Charlie Sheen.  Why I left is in the middle.

To my credit I have been busy. I do a little activism work now and again with a group of chicks who are amazing. We might not be changing the world – yet – but we are kicking its ass.

I am writing more. More on this blog than I have ever had time to do.

I am writing a book. Yea, a whole book. Think funny and biting and satirical.

I am creating a presentation geared toward health professionals and the treatment of children with Down syndrome. Think funny and biting and educational. I have wanted to do this for over a year but never had the time. I have met with two generous and talented women who are willing to help me get to future doctors.

Yea, I am do-ing all of that.

You what I haven’t been doing? I haven’t been doing much housework to my husband’s dismay. I feel awful for him. It must have been quite a shock to find out the woman you married that used to work and help raise your child and wasn’t a very good housekeeper sort didn’t really improve her domestic output while unemployed. I think he thought the issue before was a time management thing. Come to find out your wife just really lacked basic housewife skills.  And, if I am going to be perfectly honest here the overall inclination.

My husband asked me if I would be willing to consider doing more dishes and cook during this hiatus. The word silkwood_door alarm‘dishes’ had a neutral affect upon hearing it. But, ‘cooking’? You know that scene in Silkwood where Meryl Streep walks through the doorway at work and the alarms go off? It must have been as apparent to Ward.

“Ok, forget cooking. Just more dishes.”

During this time of waiting for the next big thing I have been treated to support from family and friends. And, our family has been treated to dinners, paid meals out and no judgments. Thanks.

I have also been a better parent or at least more available than a working parent. Thorin is six once. I have a chance to see what that means more right now. My mother is going to be eighty-one next month. Great to have more time to hang out with her. Walt-the-dog has become my unofficial co-worker. I am totally digging having more time with him. OK, and Coco-the-dog, too. She isn’t as ‘chill’ as Walt.

I told Ward last week I think I better sign up with temporary employment agency. Get an office job. Really anything to bring money in until I find another gig. I did not expect his response.

“Kid, don’t do it. I don’t know why this happened but you are supposed to be doing everything you are doing. Don’t stop. Let’s see this through. I believe in you.”

Ok, first, I love that my husband who is fourteen years my junior calls me “Kid”. Second, it is very easy for people in general to you to say, “Don’t worry about money. Follow this path. “

It is a whole other ball of wax when the one person in the world whose financial security is dependent on you carrying your weight says, “Do this thing. I believe in you.”

The very eff’ing least I can do is dishes.

2 thoughts on “The Reluctant Housewife –

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