Posted on Sunday, November 19, 2006 at 03:39

Do you ever ask questions specifically to see if you'll get the answers you don't want? For instance, you know "Does this make me look fat" is too obvious, but your husband might fall for "Do you think we should eat healthier?" Of course you can always eat healthier, but the next thing you know you're accusing him of calling you a cow. Or is this just me? It might just be me.

It's not a way of starting a fight, but a way for asking for support without feeling too obvious. Lately what I've needed support on is the desires to become a full-time housewife. This issue has me racked with guilt and curiosity, but I think I finally convinced myself that it might be a good path to explore. Now if only I could get Dom to say something, anything, other than a bland "do whatever makes you happy, baby."
So last night I asked, without any conscious ulterior motive, "Do you think I'm romanticizing housewifery?"
And Dom said yes. And suddenly he's telling me that he's worried that I'll get bored with nothing to do all day, and guilty if things don't get done, and remember how upset I got when I controlled the budget and something went awry? But he's willing to take care of me, he wants to pay me back for that year I took care of him. He doesn't mind my staying at home, but only if I decide to get serious with my writing, perhaps publish a novel I've been working on. Take classes. Do side work.

A simple yes or no would have sufficed.

This morning I woke up feeling so broken-hearted that I was over, done with homemaking and wanna-be homesteading. I thought, "Fine. I'll start applying for jobs and get a fancy office gig, too. Neither of us will have time to cook but we'll be able to afford expensive organic convienence foods. TV dinners mean never having to do dishes, and the dishwasher will make cleaning a breeze."
I was so busy being grumpy that I nearly didn't realize that I had no idea where my keys were, my jacket was on the floor (along with other clothes strewn about the room). There were dishes in the computer room; we hadn't even cleaned up after breakfast. Speaking of breakfast, we were out of eggs, and I'm afraid to open the yogurt container and see if it's still edible, and the bread was left out and is now stale. And back to dressing, why don't I have any bloody socks!
It clicked. This is not how I want to live. This is not how Dom should live, and he doesn't even know it.
So I persevere with my desire, and hope he learns to appreciate it when he sees it in action.