Liberated! Free to be a slob!

I was vacuuming a few minutes ago, and started thinking about the old stereotypical "housewife" from the 50s. Poofy skirt, perfectly sculpted hair, makeup and a great big pearly smile while vacuuming. I rarely, if ever, hear this stereotype discussed in a positive light. I have myself thought of women of that decade as underappreciated and abused by the expectations of a male-dominated society. (Note to feminist self: "You go, girl! Tell it like it is!")

I imagine men coming home, throwing off their shoes and taking a "well deserved break" with the newspaper, while the wife is slaving away over a hot stove, trying to keep the children in order so they don't disturb daddy dearest. I imagine women up all night with crying children while daddy is sawing logs because he has to "work" tomorrow. While apparently the wife doesn't have to "work"--what she does scrubbing, chasing children, folding laundry, vacuuming and keeping the house in order is apparently far less physically demanding than the man's tiring day of sitting at a desk.

I imagine women dreaming of being something else--a reporter, a lawyer, a doctor, a soldier, a judge, a dentist--and feeling guilty about it. I imagine a wife admitting, shame-faced, what her grand aspirations are and I imagine her husband patting her on the head condescendingly and telling her that those things are man's work. Little ladies like her ought to be baking bread.

You can imagine how I'd react if my husband came home and demanded a newspaper because HE needs to rest while **I** need to finish dinner, feed the children, wash the children, clean up after dinner and get the kids ready for bed. I would consider that grounds for divorce based on pigheaded, male chauvinist condescension alone. Any judge in the country would agree with me these days.

Luckily, my husband is very understanding of my shocking feminist tendencies and is more than willing to be an equal partner in the evenings. I think my husband and I are the rule these days, rather than the exception. I think that women who stay at home usually do so by choice, and not because there aren't other options open to them. And more often than not, women are expected to get a job outside the home and help support the families. Chains of sexism have been replaced by chains of financial need as the pendulum has swung the other way.

What about those of us who are willing and able to stay at home as parents and spouses? When I think of a stay-at-home mom (SAHM) in the 21st century, I think of a woman who does housework in sweatpants. She keeps her hair in a scrunchee and only puts on makeup if she dang well feels like it. She is liberated to do as she likes and not be bound by the abusive expectations of a domineering husband figure. (Note to self: "But tell us how you REALLY feel!")

But wait a second. Why do people think of housewives as "desperate" in the 21st century? Why do SAHMs need Prozac just to not lose it entirely? If we're so liberated, what are we so depressed about? Why are we stuffing our faces with chocolate? What are we running away from?

Could it be ... ourselves?

Is it possible ... or even plausible ... that our parents and grandparents had the right idea by dressing nicely, doing their hair and makeup and putting on a smile? Is it even feasible that they did it because they had some pride and confidence that is lacking today? Maybe they didn't dress up just on the days they were "going out." Maybe they realized that taking pride in yourself is the kind of thing that does you good even when you're alone with the dishes. Maybe they had their kingdom so well in order (by choice) that they sent their husbands off with a newspaper on purpose, because they didn't want their peaceful organization disrupted! I might have this whole thing backwards!

Not that they weren't like totally kept down by a chauvinist society and all that ... but maybe those smiles weren't pasted on after all. Maybe I should go take a look in the mirror and do something about what I see instead of cringing and turning away. Huh. (Note to self: "Umm I'd like to say 'You Go, Girl!' but reality is a bit harder to joke about than passionate, feminist ranting. Aww shucks.")