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Tuesday, May 29, 2012

1953



I was home a few weeks back trying to juggle conference calls, stressful quarter-end related work activities, laundry, cleaning and kid drop-offs.  I made up this song in my head to a catchy little tune while I was crazily running around the house trying to be ten different people at once.  The chorus of the song went as follows: "When you come home my hair looks nice, your gin and tonic is chilling on ice.  why oh why can't it be 1953?  I'll fix your dinner then fill your glass, when I turn away you'll tap my ass.  Why oh why can't it be 1953?"

Needless to say this little ditty is about my June Cleaver/Martha Stewart fantasty of how dreamy it would be to only be responsible for one thing - my family.  Some days when the list of to-do's feels overwhelming and frankly, unfair, I long for the days when women took care of the house, their children and their husband and left the money making to men.  I think this is partly because I truly do enjoy domestic work and partly because the grass is just always greener.

This weekend, after a week-long tour of the Southwest in a mini-van with my family a-la Clark Griswald I was completely DONE with taking care of other people.  I was under-rested, under-fed, under-groomed and over-worked.  I was at a Mommy low and needed someone to take care of me for a second.  The baby started to throw a tantrum because she only wanted me to hold her and no one else.  I was trying to cook breakfast at the time and just didn't have a spare hand to give her which meant she was literally tugging at my skirt and crying.  My husband looked at me and said "why don't you just take care of the baby?" as if to say "why don't you just be the woman and take care of the offspring?" 

This little comment sent me into orbit mentally.  My response was an angry "DON'T TALK AT ME LIKE IT'S F'ING 1953!"  I angrily left the house and took the crying baby for a walk in the carriage to clear my head.  As I was strolling her to calm her down I thought about the irony of my unplanned comment.  Here I had made up an entire song (which I still think may be funny enough to put on YouTube) about wishing it were the simpler days of strict gender roles and not a couple of weeks later I am proudly flying my feminist flag and scolding my husband for treating me like anything less than his equal.

I guess the lesson here is that you can't have it both ways - and that perhaps neither way is really any easier than the other.  We can't be the bread-winners, mothers, wives, friends and housekeepers without a fair amount of stress.  I wouldn't however, trade the financial independence and the feeling of personal satisfaction I get from a job well-done at work for an apron any day of the week.  It wasn't eaiser for women trying to raise small children in 1953 - in fact in most ways, I'm sure it was harder.  Sure their only concern was taking care of their home and family, but they lacked so many of the freedoms and priviledges that modern-day working mothers have earned.  

What works is different for every family of course.  Some men stay home while their MD wives see patients all day.  Some moms I know have started consulting to give themselves more flexibility as far as their hours are concerned and some couples just match one another's 9-5 schedules like my husband and I.  What works depends on who earns a bigger salary, the age of your kids, the lifestyle you want to maintain and what kind of a person each partner is.  You have to prioritize what means most in your life and your family and take it from there, but I will say this:  aside from the fabulous fashion, costume jewelry and liberal consumption of cocktails at that time - I'm really grateful to be raising a family today and not 60 years ago.