An Ode to Housewives

I know someone who calls herself “just” a housewife, and seems ashamed when she says it. This makes me very sad on a lot of levels. First of all, I hate it when anyone calls themselves “just” anything. As far as I’m concerned every human being starts from a baseline of complexity. We are all so much more than one thing. If you think you can completely describe yourself in one sentence, you are selling yourself really short.

If my friend’s husband had to pay someone to do everything that my friend does, he’d be struggling. He’d have to hire a maid, a chef, a counselor, a companion, a personal shopper, an errand runner, a record keeper, a laundress, a pet sitter, a security guard, a manager, a personal assistant, and a researcher. And on top of that, she volunteers, too, so she gives back to her community.

See, to me, that’s pretty freakin’ impressive. I wish I had “just” a housewife in my life. The only downside is that the dust bunnies under my bed would probably stage a coup.

I have no doubt that my friend accomplishes a whole lot more in any given day than I do. She has no idea what a positive impact she has upon the people who love her. She’s an amazing person, and her absence from my life would be felt very keenly. If I could give her anything, it would be the gift of self-esteem, and the unwavering knowledge of her value in this world.

Come to think of it, sticking a bunny under your bed would probably sweep out a lot of dust bunnies!



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