My name is Karen and I’m a housewife.
Wow, that was hard to write. It’s hard to put in black and white something that was never supposed to happen. To acknowledge that this is my title, my being. This is what I am. A housewife. Just a housewife. No more, sometimes less.
I’m 37 years old and have been married for nearly 10 years to Matt (Matthew when he’s not listening). He’s my husband. He’s pretty cool. I could say he was good looking, wonderful, witty, kind, adorable and any other number of words, but I’m not the gushing kind (and I don’t like lying), so he’s just pretty cool.
We have one child (OMG! Just one?!). She is a girl and her name is Emily. She’s pretty cool too. Well most of the time. Sometimes she’s just so damn childish. You don’t want that from a 6 year old. It appears my world revolves around her. That wasn’t supposed to happen.
I think I’m pretty intelligent, relatively nice, have a decent sense of humour and sometimes swear inappropriately. I acknowledge that many people can’t see these wonderful traits in me, but that’s not my concern. I’m not terribly concerned about what people think of me, but I’ve begun to realize that I DO worry about what I think of myself. Gee, I can beat myself up. I’m not normally the sort of person who does a lot of soul searching, but lately I’ve found myself contemplating just what has become of my life, how it turned out like that, and have become aware that Monty Python actually does make sense.
I’ve decided to take myself on a little journey to discover what I’ve done with my life, what I shouldn’t have done, what I should do and if it really matters at all. I remember as a kid I used to lay in bed contemplating the meaning of life. How did I get here? Yes, I know how I got here physically, but what is the purpose of us, the human race? Who or what decided we should exist? I spent many months as a 10 year old trying to work this out and in the end made a conscious decision that it didn’t matter because I was starting to fall behind with my clarinet practice. Well, now nearly 30 years on, I’m starting to wonder if it does in fact matter, as playing the clarinet clearly didn’t.
So, this little blog is solely to help me through my life to discover if it really has been as boring as it appears to be and to give me a place to have a whinge about myself. But right now I think it’s time for a cup of tea and a little lay down….
Scully, the truth of the matter is that SOMEBODY needs to be there for the little one to take her to school, to make her sandwich, to give her a banana for morning tea, and to pick her up from school and also to attend all the thousands of Merit Awards ceremonies that schools seem to have these days and the best person to be there for her is YOU. And you do have a sense of humour and you are making a difference in the world probably more than you know. Don't doubt yourself and nobody else will.
ReplyDelete1 child is the New Black. In my suburb everyone has 4 or 5 kids. It's a competitive thing. One in my view is Tonnes. I came here via Nessa Knits. Good luck with the blog.
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