When I started dating my husband, I made myself clear: I did not need special treatment as a woman. I was strong-willed, my own person and I could open my own doors. I wish I could go back to that independent twenty-one year old girl that I was and smack her upside her head.
Little did I know that there would come a day when I would learn that it is a little difficult to open my own door while eight months pregnant, with a two year old on my hip, and my arms filled with a diaper bag, a boobah, and a cup of Cheerios. I also didn't know that when put in that situation, the sight of my husband strolling leisurely to the car (empty handed) would have me teetering on the edge of divorce.
I've said it before, and I'll say it again, women's lib is awesome, but it has taken all of the enjoyment out of the role of a stay at home mom (SAHM to my fellow Facebookers and Bloggers).
Don't get me wrong, I still see myself as an equal. But, what is "equal?" Women are expected to be superheroes. Back when it was acceptable and common to stay home, and raise your own children, THAT was your job. Now that SAHMs are the minority, it's as if we have to work overtime to prove ourselves.
June Cleaver can bite me.
Of course, she could perform all of her duties wearing pearls, with perfectly coiffed hair, in high heels. All June had to do was cook, clean, and occasionally remove Beaver's hand from a jar. Ward did the heavy work. I cook, clean, take care of the boys, refinish furniture, repair appliances, paint baseboards, fix doorknobs, do yard work, and handle our household finances. And then I feel guilty because I only have time to shave my legs a few times a month.
In my husband's defense, he's not useless (necessarily). I choose to over work myself. I feel guilty that the burden of supporting our family lies with him. We live in a society where men and women are both supposed to fulfill the financial responsibilities of a household. Our society makes me feel as though I need to overcompensate by taking on many jobs of the home. I find it interesting that now that the role of full time mom has become so much more difficult, there are less moms doing it. Things were easy for June. She could make friends, because all of the women in her neighborhood were SAHMs, too. I have trouble finding peer interaction for myself or my sons, because I know of few mothers who are home during the day like I am. June was respected in her community, just because she was a devoted wife and a good mother. When I go to parties and state my "profession," the other moms give me a look of pity and say, "Oh, well, the boys will be in school before you know it, and you can go back to work." Ummm.... I really don't want to rush my children's childhoods, but thanks. Even running errands was simpler in the Fifties. All June had to do was throw Wally and the Beav into the back of the family's Ford Fairlane and be on their way. When I take my boys to the grocery store, I have to budget a half hour of time just to get them in and out of their state required car seats.
I do love my job. I love that I will remember every moment of my boys' lives. I guess I just long for a simpler time, when it was good enough for a woman to "just" be a wife and mother. I wish that a successful day for me would be to have the dishes done, the living room vacuumed, and dinner on the table, all while looking fabulous. So, I suppose my animosity toward Mrs. Cleaver stems from the fact that I envy her. I may have once been a feminist, but now I guess, I am just a mom, who wants to be June Cleaver... except for the heels. I hate high heels.
