We had a great weekend in Jacksonville. The beach was fun (we returned with the family later and had a wonderful sunny morning with great shell hunting, castle building, and burying Will in the sand), the pool was great, and the company fantastic.
Indeed, I was having so much fun that I momentarily contemplated my life as a Florida housewife. It would be like moving on to Wisteria Lane. Modest house in gated golf community, complete with perfectly poured streets and manicured lawns with the “pesticide application – don’t walk” signs still fresh on the curbside. Spending mornings at “the club”: me in the gym, Will in the center daycare. Meeting “the ladies” for lunch and cards, where we dish about our husbands’ lives and housekeepers. Afternoons in the pool while Will naps. Making dinner in the evenings. Taking an occassional pottery class to “have a hobby”. All I would have to do is look pretty for the rest of my life, and no one would ever think the less of me; indeed, some members of my extended family network may even think better of me. Maybe this is crass and jaded account of the life of a Florida Housewife, but it certainly seems like the life expected of me.
Reality check: The only thing I understand about expectations is how to challenge and surpass them.
Now that I’m home in my tiny, 100+ year old shotgun, walking down ancient streets full of bumps and cracks, with the pressures of work and the looming dates of comprehensive exams breathing down my neck, I’m so happy to have my life. I may have the appearance of the typical brainwashed American mom/woman/girl, but the reality is that I seek more than white bread for my diet.
Take home message: Ladies, expect more of yourselves than others do of you.
Post a Comment