Mom is not a Homemaker

It’s almost tax time, and yet another year passes in which I “don’t work,” or, oddly enough, work as a “homemaker.” The word homemaker, to me, conjures images of a mom wearing a red checkered gingham apron. That image reminds me of a picnic basket, and then I wander off in search of some leftover food my kids didn’t finish at lunch because I’m suddenly hungry.

Really it’s my kids who are homemakers. The Informant especially — she draws pictures and tapes them to the walls. I sleep under this

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There are pictures all over the walls in her room too.

The kids also make the home because of all their STUFF. One would assume from the contents of our home that there are definitely a bunch of kids; whether or not there’s a mom is questionable. Wouldn’t the house be more clean if there were a mom around?

Since having surgery I’m supposed to be entirely indisposed, although I might make an appearance downstairs when I get bored of my room. From this vantage point, I can see what I actually do as a mom: a little of everything. Thus My Chemical Romance is having a hard time filling in for me. When I say, “take the kids to Costco to pick up Cheerios,” I actually mean, “make sure the diaper bag has a clean diaper in it, and that My Masterpiece’s shoes fit. Remind the boys to brush their teeth and wear weather-appropriate clothes. Get another package or eight of butt wipes, and buy the kids a hot dog after shopping — but only if the samples were gross and they’re still hungry. Check if the Costco gas is cheaper than the station near our house and maybe top off my gas tank. While you’re on that side of town, stop by the car alarm place to find out about resetting your button settings. Oh, and get some vinegar. And be home in time for naps!”

These things go without saying in my mind.

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So I’m allegedly indisposed; I am supposed to be resting and taking pain medication but the kids keep knocking on the door and insisting they need me for something. And of course Cousin It gets nursies whenever she wants. And My Masterpiece gets covered with her blanket (by me, of course).

Sunday afternoon, My Chemical Romance is leaving for a work trip. I’m nervous about solo-parenting only three days after surgery. I’m still in a lot of pain, even if the pain medication helps take my mind off it. I’m hoping that I’m feeling 10000x better by the time he leaves.

Meanwhile, I take some satisfaction in the idea that according to salary.com, based on my job as a mom, I should make over $100k/year!

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6 Responses

  1. I prefer the term “Domestic Goddess” myself! Although as far as tax forms and other official paperwork go, I list myself as “Educator.”

  2. I accept homemaker but it isn’t because my home is clean or because I regularly manage to cook dinner. it is the easiest term that people understand and I hate explaining things to people.

    • I know, it’s just kind of a grating term. I don’t think it gives enough credit to what we do!

      • I totally agree. What frustrates me is that no matter how hard we work and no matter what title we use our society thinks we don’t do anything all day. I hate that our society doesn’t consider women worthwhile unless they work outside the home and hire someone else to take care of their children.

      • Or have a perfectly sparkling house, homemade whole nutritious foods for every meal and children who never watch tv. Then your time as a sahm is well-spent. That my kids can name all the players on Survivor just doesn’t cut it.

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