Month: June 2014


Recently, I have realized that not everyone is pleased with the word “housewife.” I feel like I have to say something.

To use the old cliche, Merriam-Webster defines “housewife” as “a married woman who stays at home, does cleaning, cooking, etc., and does not have another job outside the home.” While I volunteer for Planned Parenthood, I am not paid for this work, so this definition is true for me. I am married. I clean. I cook. I et cetera the shit out of every day. (There’s a lot of et cetera.) I do not have a paying job outside my home. My husband is the breadwinner.

If you think this is old-fashioned, that’s fine. But you don’t know me very well, I guess, if you think this is a bad arrangement. I love cooking. I like cleaning. I hate tidying, but Mr. Something likes it, so he does that most of the time. I love taking care of our pets. I’m proud of our home because I spend lots of time making it a nice place. In addition to being a housewife, I love reading about science, Australian detective novels, drinking beer, and watching hockey. This is my life, meaning it is not your place to judge or comment.

Having a career does not mean you are a fulfilled person. Not having a career does not mean you are a fulfilled person. However, being a housewife fulfills me, along with my volunteer activities and social life. I have a full, wonderful life. And I choose with every fiber of my being to be a housewife.

If you have a quibble about the word I choose to use, that is your problem and not mine. If I introduced myself to you as “Amanda,” and you turned to someone and said, “This is Mandy,” I would probably slap you, because I am definitively not a Mandy and I just introduced myself as “Amanda.” Respect my choice. The same goes for what I choose to call what I do day in and day out. If I say I am a housewife, do not then say, “Oh, you’re a homemaker.” I guess… but that’s not what I call it, and besides, Mr. Something makes our house a home just as much as I do.

I have had it with people thinking that I am not a feminist because of the word I choose for myself, and the work I choose for my family. Feminism is about choice, and it’s about women being equal to men. I work equally hard as my husband; he just happens to get paid for his contribution. Mr. Something asked me, “Do you want to get a job?” I said, “Not really,” and he replied, “Okay.” That sounds like a choice to me, and my husband supports me 100%.

Again, if you have a problem with any of this, or if you think I am less of a feminist for being a housewife or a future stay-at-home mom, please realize that you are trying to regulate my speech and my choices, and that is not a feminist act. It’s actually fairly misogynist.


Hello again! (and Weeding)

Hi! *waves frantically* I didn’t have wifi for almost two weeks, so I sort of disappeared. I am back now.

So with this new house comes a big backyard and a smaller front yard. (Why does “backyard” look normal and “frontyard” doesn’t? Hm.) With yards come weeds, because they are advantageous little buggers. I’ve discovered that one of my new favorite things is weeding. Seriously. I throw on a big straw hat and some ridiculous purple garden gloves, go out into the Rocky Mountain sun, and send some poor plants to their doom. It is incredibly cathartic. Furious at anti-vaxxers? Weed. Some of your new neighbors are kind of weird and rude? Weed. You read the comments? Weed. When I’m done and see that big pile of unfortunate leaves, twigs, and roots, I sigh and feel better about most things.

I also murdered some mushrooms the other day (chopping at things with a trowel is pretty fun), and they haven’t grown back yet, so hooray for me.

All of this house stuff is sort of overwhelming; the previous owners neglected a lot of stuff and tried to cover it up with some paint and (literally) a mirror. (Side note: they had a [in their words] “problem daughter,” and I’m pretty sure she tried to kick in her door at one point. I moved a hanging mirror from a guest room door last week and there was a HUGE smashed-in part. We also suspect she kicked something very heavy down the stairs, resulting in a slightly smushed wall. We don’t really *mind* these things, per se, since they’re fairly easily fixed, but come on, guys.) We need to take one step at a time or I think we’ll both go insane.


Triangle ears + triangle hat = I can't stop laughing.

Happy birthday, Sweetest Dog! (and SECRET PROJECT NUMBER ONE REVEALED)

Our amazing dog turned one yesterday. I can’t stop laughing at that picture. It is my new “in a bad mood, need a pick-me-up” picture. She’s the sweetest dog in the world, she’s friendly with children and the elderly, she loves cats (a little too much for their liking), and she can’t get enough frozen broccoli. We love you, our little surfer girl!

And it’s time to reveal SECRET PROJECT NUMBER ONE: we bought a house!!!! Prepare yourselves for many house-related posts.