housewife extra-ordinary

Most of you don't know this, but about a month ago I decided I wanted to be a 1950s housewife. Strange sure, but I've also made decisions to be a movie star, an actress, a rock star, an intellectual, a stock market trader, a princess, a world traveler, you name it. So all things considered, the desire to be a 1950s housewife is probably the most realistic decision I've made recently. And to be honest, I really wasn't looking for the "yes dear, no dear, invite the boss and his wife for dinner dear" type of thing, but I was looking to have dinner on the table every night. And I think I just wanted to spend some time at home tidying it up a bit, making it feel a bit more "homey", clearing out some old things, getting some new things. About a week after my latest decision, I had three weeks off of work for the holidays.

So for three weeks, I spent my days playing with the boys, cleaning the house, enjoying the tasks of laundry and ironing and washing dishes and floors. I cleaned damn near everything with that 1950s magic mixture of baking soda and vinegar and even added in the bonus lemon for the kitchen. I set the table for nice cooked lunches every day and then cleared that away to redo the same scenario at dinner time, complete with dessert. And then I would make a clean sweep of the house again before bed. And then to top it off, I insisted on going to the drive-in, in preparation for which, I made taco "take-aways" with a side of corn on the cob and rice krispie treats for the boys. I packed the food and drinks and blankets and stuffed animals and a few toys into the car and then cleared everything back out of it a few hours later.

Every morning, I would walk into the boys' room and ask Felix if I should go to work that day. "No mommy, no work." "Okay Felix, I'll stay home and play with you today, but soon, I have to go back to work." And while I did plenty of work, I didn't do any paid work, nor did I go to the gym, nor did Steve and I go out during the entire 3 weeks by ourselves, it was, in fact a very 1950s life we were living. Steve has been busy kitting out the laundry room and sorting out a proper work area in the garage and doing general "man about the house" type jobs.

Today was my first day back at work. I didn't really want to go, but you know, we gotta eat and pay the bills. Felix threw an absolute fit, even though I had spent the two days prior preparing him for this eventuality. And as I put on my new clothes, I thought about the month of not going to the gym and how much quicker it shows up now than it used to. Nonetheless, I was a productive member of the working world all day long and only around 3:30pm did I decide that I really just wanted to go home and play legos with the boys. So I called Steve and asked him to pick up the needed bread and milk - oh and a video too please. By the time I got home, I had decided to drag my sorry ass to the gym after the boys were both in bed and so foregoing the movie I had just asked for.

I got home I changed into my gym clothes and played legos with the boys until dinner was ready - roast chicken and potatoes (wonderful to have the housekeeper back home with us). And when Oscar was fast asleep and Felix soon to follow I took that 10 minute drive to the gym. Normal routine, swipe card, take the stairs down, secret pleasure at the fact that no one else chose my locker, put my stuff in, locked it (with the same combination lock I've had since jr high - girls you may remember, its blue) and turned around to the scale. Imagine my horror when I read 64 kilos (140 lbs). No way. NO WAY! And it was indeed no way - it actually said 54 kilos (118.8 lbs) - I had imagined that the dreaded holiday season gain had managed to seize me. It never existed. I dreamt it. So I spent 20 minutes of cardio, 30 minutes of weights and 10 minutes of sit-ups contemplating the whys and how possibles of this feat. I mean, I've had 2 kids in the past 3 years and I've been at home stuffing my face and playing with legos and doing laundry and knitting and eating chocolate between every cup of coffee - which was almost constantly.

And the only answer that I can possibly concieve of is that I really was meant to be a 1950s housewife. Except, I'm keeping the guitar and the university studies, and my job since there really is no way around it and actually toilet training is not really my forte.