Today is posting day. It’s posting day and it’s the middle of the night. It’s posting day, it’s the middle of the night and I have yet to actually post something. I wrote and erased and rewrote the opening paragraph three times. I couldn’t find any inspiration, try as I might. Well, maybe I didn’t try too hard; I did get stuck on celebrity gossip videos for the better part of quiet time.
My oldest watches a lot of YouTube toy reviews and has been begging us to take videos of her playing with Play-Doh or demonstrating toys. We didn’t have any new toys and Play-Doh means one of two things in our house: either one child will eat it all or the other will find places to hide and embed it. While at Wal-Mart for toilet paper (which my husband just reminded me that I forgot) I thought it would be nice to get her some blind bags to open.
Side note: those buggers are expensive! You better believe I put half of them back. My last name isn’t Rockefeller.
Anyway, I decided to write while they were doing a segment. I didn’t think about being the director or how often I’d be asked to muscle open the prizes. My two-year old can tear the faces off of dresser drawers, but that plastic packaging is like steel for her. No big deal, I’d write when they were done. We’d stay outside and they’d play while I wrote. I didn’t think about how much they’d want me to play with them and their new toys, or how much they’d want me to film them playing with their new toys (and then play it back for them).
That was a bust, so while my husband made dinner, I continued working on legal and marketing issues for our book; I worked right through dinner. Now here I sit, not far from tomorrow and I haven’t posted a single thing.
I have a reason for all this back story. Yesterday, we went shopping for a new phone for me and it hit me that I have no income. For the first time in eighteen years I don’t have money to save up for a too expensive phone, money to call my own. Yeah, yeah, his money is our money. In reality it doesn’t work like that. His money is the bank’s money and the electric company’s money and Pick’n’Save’s money. It’s not even his most of the time.
It was that night that I came across an article on Scary Mommy called, I Am Not Just A Housewife. She talks about how housework is all her responsibility; it ranks higher than any “hobby” she may have.
It got me thinking about my own “hobby.”
When I talk to people I say that I’m a writer. I don’t declare housewife or SAHM as a job, although it kind of is, it’s not my career. If someone were to ask where I work I’d say I’m a SAHM, but it’s never how I would describe work that I do.
Even though I consider writing to be my profession, it rarely takes precedence. Some days I want to scream that I’m so much more than a SAHM or housewife. Those aren’t the only layers to me. Part of me feels guilty because of late I haven’t been making dinner. It’s usually too late when I get the energy or will to do it; by then my husband has usually started it. I know that he works 40+ hours a week and I know that technically I don’t work any. I’m not fulfilling my SAHM end of the bargain. At the same time, I’m on duty 24 hours a day with no breaks. It’s flippin’ hard.
There are two things my husband said to me tonight that really struck me. As he dropped potatoes on the floor he said, “Good thing you clean the floors every second,” and the other I heard while doing dishes: “Go out by your Mommy.” My only valid positions. He didn’t mean it as a dig, but it felt like one.
Yes, I am Mommy. I am Wife. But I am also Writer. It’s not a hobby for me, it’s my profession. As the writer of that article said, just because I don’t get paid for it doesn’t make it any less a profession for me. Although, it’s more fun than any job I’ve had before.
I’m more than an entertainer and cook and maid (yes I know there is so much more to it than that), and some days I want to know I’m not the only one aware of that. Until that happens, I’ll stay up way too late, work and write into the night, eat too many Doritos, wake up too early and repeat that process just to chip away and try to make a mark doing another thing that I love.
I love being a mother and wife, they’re two of my greatest joys, but it doesn’t mean that I love nothing else. It’s not my only joy. I love me and I love what my words can do. I’ll keep writing those words until and after someone else realizes it too.
We are more than just housewives or stay at home moms. We are that and so much more.
Cover photo Credit to womenwithworth.wordpress.com