Not the cute 1950's version either. If my husband ever comes home to me in an immaculate house dress shaking martini's he's going to assume one of two things. I'm having an affair (ha that requires a level of effort and explaining away the kids) or that dinner is poisoned. He does come home to a clean house, with dinner at some stage of completion, and 95% of the time he even comes home to happy kids. It's just not the stereotypical house of June Clever.
Nor is is the 1990's version either. My husband doesn't come home to a wife who has spent the day eating bonbons, who hasn't fixed dinner, done the housework, and who has no idea where the kids are. I don't prance about in stiletto heels with a bouffant hair do. The fridge is also full and I don't remember the last time he's had to sit down with check book and pay the bills. This isn't the Bundy residence (Peggy and Al's of course not the serial killer).
My job description isn't neat and tidy I don't engineer solutions for my home by following a manual or drafting a design. My role is to handle what needs to be handled. My husband works out side the home and I work inside of it. I am an equal partner even if I don't punch a time clock. The hours are long, the pay varies from sticky toddler kisses to finding one more pair of dirty undies after finishing what I thought was the last load. So don't say "Oh, your just a housewife" or "soooo what do you like do all day" or my favorite "since your home all day anyway can't you just". My day is full, I don't get to punch our at the end of my shift. My work handles everything waste management to culinary arts to Ikea furniture assembly to doing the shopping to paying the bills . I'm a non militant housewife (seriously it's not for everyone) not a domestic engineer.
