Who I Am Not….

Let’s face it. I’m probably the last person on earth that should be blogging about being a housewife — hesitant or not. You won’t find tips on organization, efficiency, or other Heloise-like tidbits of wisdom. (Unless I steal them from others and pass them along) I can’t offer insights on how to be the perfect mom, doting wife, or tireless automaton of flawless household maintenance. However, perhaps you might rejoice for that — because people who already know all those things tend to be tiresome. The adventure is in the journey.

Housework. Boring. Let me tell you what’s boring: Dishes are boring. Laundry is really boring. And dusting? I imagine that’s boring too, but couldn’t tell you for certain as I never do it. Though those Swifter things manage to make it look almost enjoyable. I love to do the fun stuff, the creative stuff — cooking, canning, baking, crafting, painting — but when I’m done? I don’t want to deal with a mess. I just want to be done and enjoy what I’ve created. Exuberant creator… Hesitant Housewife.

Frankly, I envy those women — you know who they are — they’ve got organized button bins, they actually mend clothing, they can cook a three course meal with children wailing at their ankles and not leave destruction in their wake. I want to be that woman…but I’m not. And that’s okay. Most of the time. Until it’s not.

How I Got Here…

Having grown up in a bunch of different rural areas, I think I’ll always be a bit of a small-town girl. Montana, a small island in the Puget Sound, southern Missouri — all of these places have left an indelible mark on my soul. However, it wasn’t until I moved to the big city that I met my small-town boy and the other half of my heart and soul.

(I’ll probably post the epic saga of our love at some point.) Now I live in-between. I live in the suburbs. We’re lucky enough to rent a house that’s surrounded by enormous conifers and that has a big yard for our dog and our little girl to run around in, but the trees make me long for big skies and foggy hills. On the other hand, the close-by city reminds me that it’s a mere 10 minute drive to the best gyros I’ve ever had. Tough call — so I think we’ll stay put for a while.

I grew up with a lot of chores to do, and as an only child until the age of ten, there were no smaller, weaker people to bribe to do them for me. There was even a complicated chart, that I made myself on the computer, to keep track of all of them. At the beginning of each week, I would print out a new chart, and as the week progressed, neatly fill it with appropriately placed little x’s. I hated that chart. Its only saving grace was that each little x was worth a dime. But now, nobody gives me dimes for my x’s. Perhaps this is something that my husband should remedy. Is that against the law? Paying your wife to do housework?

And Now…

I’m pretty excited about this whole blogging business — especially the part where I got to register my own domain. It’s like owning my very own little piece of the interwebs, assuming of course that I remember to renew at the necessary time. I’m hoping that you’ll like the blog — I’ll put in a lot of pictures and possibly even use some naughty words. Eventually you’ll find whole sections devoted to my love of cooking (yay, food!), my obsession with my daughter, family fun, and of course, my ongoing battle with keeping our house.

Enjoy!