Confessions Of A Happy Housewife

Despite my best intentions, my marriage isn’t new or hip or trendy. I cook and clean. He does the lawn and the taxes. I sew curtains and decorate. He watches the budget and fixes the garbage disposal. It’s not that way because I am trying to reverse the women’s movement; it’s just that our marriage works better that way. I am a better cook. He’s a whiz at taxes. I really enjoy a nicely Swiffered floor. He loves multiple trips to Home Depot. Call it genetics. Call it culture. It’s who we are.I used to feel guilty that my marriage seemed so normal. When I got married, I imagined my marriage would be different. I wanted to bust up traditions. Reinvent what marriage meant. I was determined not to let my marriage resemble the traditional roles of my parents’ relationship. So, two months after I said “I do,” when I found myself unemployed and picking up my husband’s socks off the floor, I started to cry. When Dave came home and found me sobbing on the couch, I threw my apron at him. “You make dinner!” He made hot dogs and mac and cheese from a box. Breaking down traditions didn’t taste as good as I thought it would. Read more

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