The Good, The Bad and the Hausfrau

Woo Hoo! I got the taxes done! Thank the Gods that's over. And, believe me, it took a while. The Tax Guy looks like a Galapagos Turtle. Moves like one, too. I don't think he has too many coins left in his meter, but he's generally a decent guy and we've been to see him numerous other times, so I just went with the flow. Now, I'm kinda glad we won't be here next year, so I'll be free to hunt another turtle, er, find another Tax Guy.

I didn't mind the half hour drive to get to his office. I didn't even mind that I waited almost an hour before meeting with him. (And I was being so good - I didn't bring the cigs with me and I wasn't jonesing for one. I was being all zen-like.) What began to rub my fur the wrong way is that I couldn't make him understand what my husband's job entailed.

Armed with an accordian file full of receipts, I tried to explain husband's expenses while he's on the road: Food, copies, faxes, laundry, showers, clothes, cell phone, etc. The Tax Guy asks, "That's only when he's out overnight, right?" I said, "Yes, and he's out overnight for weeks at a stretch." (Isn't that what "over-the-road" means? Don't most people know that?) Then he asks about motel expenses. No, there isn't any because he sleeps in his s-l-e-e-p-e-r berth. (At this point, I'm willing to admit I began to want a smoke)

After another hour, the ordeal is finally coming to an end. Tax Guy wants to know my occupation... and before I can draw a breath, he answers his own question and says "housewife". Two heartbeats after I felt like I'd been slapped, I say, "Greeting Card writer", and he makes a "Pffft" sound and waves his hand at me.

WTF? Housewife....(Hausfrau)

I hate that word. It sounds lowly and shallow. I hate that he felt qualified to catagorize me. I hate that I felt an overwhelming need to #1. Justify and defend it and #2. Add more, better, descriptive words to a list that doesn't exist.

Two days later, I'm still chewing this over. I'm not going to bring up the issues that have been debated over generations of moms. We know the issues, we've struggled with 'em. We've beat 'em to a pulp with a cast iron skillet. Hopefully, we've found a Happy Medium...

And this Happy Medium thinks we should wipe the word "housewife" from every dictionary. I submit to you the new phrase. While it may be imperfect, is at the very least, more descriptive: "Orchestrator of the household".

T.G.I.F. John-Boy,
The Happy Medium