Write a diary about housewife’s activities of a day
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Do all women wonder how they got here? How society expects us to juggle home, children, love, work, drink eight glasses of water everyday, and squeeze in the exercise session in between the load of laundry, homework, and making dinner. We end up feeling like failures if we don't achieve our daily to-do lists. Sad and unrealistic expectations that today I give you all permission to set on fire! Yes! Throw them out the window! Let's start by blaming our mothers! These superwomen who have guilted us into thinking we have to be as great as they are! Now, I'm not going to dish on Mom because I will never hear the end of it, but let's be realistic. Times have changed. Back in the day—mind you I'm 40 years old—moms could stay at home and tend to the needs of their children and the household, one income covered it all, and life was a bit more simple. No, I did not say that it was a piece of cake, being a housewife never is. No sick days, no pay, all of the work and none of the appreciation
Answer:
Do all women wonder how they got here? How society expects us to juggle home, children, love, work, drink eight glasses of water every day, and squeeze in the exercise session in between the load of laundry, homework, and making dinner. We end up feeling like failures if we don't achieve our daily to-do lists. Without in any way changing my life, I have become a member of a vanishing species. For while women all around me are going public with their work, I still live as my mother and grandmothers lived, toiling in and around the home all day, every day, continuing each year to fill in my tax forms with ''Housewife.''
Reminders of my position come early every fall when mothers ask if my name might be used for their children's school emergencies: ''Just someone who could get them home if they're sick,'' they say. I readily consent, knowing they, as good neighbors, would do the same for me - if they were not off at work. I consent also to take in their parcels, help deliverymen place their new sofas , and keep an eye out for suspicious-looking strangers. I pet their barking dogs. Like the whooping crane, I have a certain usefulness in the general scheme of things.
Each time I tie up their loose ends, I am reminded of their motives for leaving home. Many must work, and they are as locked into earning money as my grandmothers were locked into tending the farm. Others, like me, who are fortunate to have the option of working at home, nevertheless reject that option -and for good reasons. Some fear they cannot take care of themselves if that becomes necessary and set out to learn survival skills. Others hope to relieve the loneliness of children gone away. Still, others simply feel they may have missed something by not having a career.