October 31, 2003~~11:39 a.m.
I Am Not a Housewife
So I’ve been away for awhile…. I had a baby in August. Her name is Elizabeth and since she is my new co-worker, you will probably be hearing a lot about her escapades. Three weeks after she was born, we moved from Sacramento to San Jose because my Marine husband, Omar, is now turning into a cop. I tried singing “We don’t need another hero” to him, but he wouldn’t listen. You can take the Marine out of the war, but you can’t take the war out of the Marine. Now that I am no longer employed by e.ScIeNtoLogy (a character we will sorely miss here, at ringoffire) I am adjusting to my new job as mother and wife. My official title is “Domestic Affairs Manager.“ The other day at the gym, this guy tried to label my job as “housewife,“ a title I disdain. Lucy Ricardo was a housewife. I am not a housewife. I am a dietician, fashion consultant, physician, personal trainer, tutor, librarian, personal shopper, photographer, secretary and travel agent to a three month old and a chef, launderer, housekeeper, social secretary, accountant, career consultant, comedienne, and concierge to Omar. I have already screwed up several times on the mom thing and would surely have been fired if this were a paid job. There was the time I put the baby’s car seat into the cart at Albertson’s and steered it across the parking lot toward the store. Right away, I noticed that the cart was making an astounding amount of noise and shaking around very violently. Elizabeth looked up startlingly with her big blue eyes and a sort of distressed look on her face. I passed the errant cart off as just having problems moving across the asphalt, but lo, it continued its crazed ways on the sidewalk too. I felt badly for Lizzie’s bumpy ride as I transferred her to another, hopefully more smooth cart, but Christ, how was I supposed to know? Then there was the night that she just wouldn’t settle down and go to sleep. She had been fed, and cuddled and rocked all to no avail. So I put her in her crib and let her cry a little bit. About fifteen minutes later, I was about to give in, when she suddenly stopped crying. I thought to myself, “Heehee, you didn’t know how close you were to getting picked up!” And then I saw it: a puddle of pee on the sheet. Of course I had to pick her up and change her and the sheet, but there I had been, about to leave my poor newborn to sleep in a puddle of urine after crying for fifteen minutes about it. I felt so guilty that I let her snuggle in bed with me until she fell asleep. For the most part, though, I think I’m a pretty good mommy and I don’t get flustered when she cries and I have a sense of humor about the whole experience. Plus, Elizabeth is a good audience for my comments about the Dr. Phil show and she also appears to enjoy all of my favorite MTV reality shows as well. What more could a mother ask for? Meanwhile, I’m learning how to be a wife. If you recall, when Omar and I got married after 5 days’ notice, he then took a honeymoon in Iraq and I was left pregnant and barefoot at home to await his return. Then he started the police academy right after he got home from the war and it wasn’t until late August that we actually lived together for good. So, technically, I’ve only been practicing being a wife for about 2 months. I am learning to walk around his “piles” and to agree with his worst case scenarios for why the baby is crying. So far, I haven’t burned anything and I’ve even cooked chicken several times without gagging. Of course, I have to take Omar’s word for it that it is tasty as I will not bite into something so fowl. I have also taught myself how to cook fish and steak, of which I am immensely proud. Elizabeth is going to be a bunny for Halloween tonight (we nearly bought her a hilarious cow costume complete with hood and ears so she could go as an Aggie, but we decided to wait until next year) so we are off to find her a fluffy tail. I love this job.
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