On Becoming Domestic

Two circumstances collided recently leading to my domestication. Up until the past few weeks I have not been much of a domestic goddess. I don't really cook and cleaning is reserved for house visits from friends. However with working jobs that take place outside of my home office and having more distinct days off, I've tried to begin a rhythm of housework. The first of my two days off is reserved for complete relaxation, a sort of sabbath. I don't have to run any errands, clean, or do much of anything I don't care to do. I can read, watch TV, nap, and all of this is done guilt free because I know a. I worked the past 5 days and b. tomorrow is reserved for cleaning and tending to the house. Last week Daniel and I celebrated our 4 year wedding anniversary and one of my contributions to the celebration was to cook each day of that week. I made double chocolate muffins (out of a box, but still), chicken noodle soup and corn bread muffins, and spaghetti and meatballs.

I've made a handful of other meals over the past few weeks as well and have to say that part of me is beginning to enjoy the fruits of my labor. It's nice to have vacuumed carpets and clean laundry, not to mention clean sheets. This is all very much out of character for me, but you can teach an old dog new tricks and hopefully this domestication will stick. I can't believe I'm 29 and just now embracing my wifely domestic side. At Target today Daniel and I discussed how it took me a very, very long time to embrace my feminine side. Target is selling glitter-skeletons as part of their Halloween decorations. I said I am drawn to anything these days covered in glitter or sequins (as evidenced by my recent wardrobe obsessions). We started discussing how I think I'm making up for all the glitter and sparkle I passed up as a little girl. I wasn't a full on tomboy, but I certainly wasn't girly. I was just a rough and tumble kid. I played with Barbies, but I didn't dress myself up like her. I braided my 'My Little Pony's' mane, but didn't know how to braid my own hair. (I still to this day have no idea how to french braid.) I didn't even own or carry a purse until after graduating college. Even then my first purse was tiny and I gradually worked up to a more conspicuous bag as opposed to the earlier models that remained tucked discreetly under my arm. I've psycho-analyzed myself and my delayed femininity to understand where all this comes from, but the purse example is the best outward evidence of my inner dilemma.

These days I love girly things. My favorite skirt is one made of feathers followed closely by my sequin mini. I am coveting a pair of Steve Madden glitter kitten heels and saving my pennies for a pink sequin pencil skirt from the store I work at. And my purse...well these days I carry one adorned with a giant gold chain and big enough to fit a stack of file folders. It seems that cooking and cleaning are just a natural progression in this process. I take pride in my elementary cooking skills and no longer apologize for or laugh at my lack of skill when serving meals to friends. Someone said the meatballs the other night were some of the best he'd ever had. I'm not trying to win any Susie-Homemaker awards or begin a blog highlighting my domestic prowess (I'll leave that up to my very, very talented friends whom I'm sure Daniel would be delighted to have care for our home and cook us gourmet dishes as would I), but I'm gaining confidence in this arena. Just as I gained courage to carry a bigger and bigger purse, signifying that yes indeed I am a female, I'm hoping to gain confidence in the kitchen and in other domestic arenas as well. Wish me luck.