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March 1, 2011

I clean.

They mess.

Yin and yang, right?

Once in awhile, I actually feel I’m approaching nirvana (shut it) as I get to the end of a session of wiping, scrubbing, and disco dancing (What? Doesn’t everyone dance the dirt away? Um, don’t answer that.).

But ultimately, after much (okay, some) thought and quiet meditation, I’ve come to the realization that I don’t feel that I’ve been placed on this earth to be my family’s maid.

Homey don’t play that.

I watched my mom clean up after her three girls and my dad (at least until she recruited us to fend for ourselves) and, after a few months of making my own lunches and unloading the dishwasher at the tender age of eight, I knew I didn’t want that crap job for life. Nope, uh-uh, no way.

I wanted to get an education so I didn’t have to be a housewife (come to think of it, while we were cleaning up, mom was reading books in her Laz-y-Boy….not sure who got schooled exactly, there…). Huh.

My parents, neither of whom went to college, made it clear: there was no question that my sisters and I would attend college and graduate. Which we all did. My younger sister even has a Masters degree (show off). All us little chickees then spread our wings and flew gracefully (well, some more than others) off into the world.

My drive and ambition kicked into high gear early on. Maybe it was the cheerleader in me (I was the smart-took-AP-classes-didn’t-get-pregnant rare species), who knew I wanted to get the hell out of Sacramento pretty much back when I was in high school. I was not gonna be a townie. Ask anyone who knew me back then–I was not long for that place. I wanted to travel. And I wanted to live somewhere pretty.

I moved back east in my twenties – on my own. Not with my family, not because of a guy. Got my own promotion, fancy car, nice home. Far away from the thought of keeping house for some guy in my hometown. As if. Went to Europe a few times, the Caribbean, Hawaii. Met a man.

Fast forward twenty years: married said man (in ’92), hated the career choice so I quit in ’04, have two young children, and…I’m an OC housewife (not in Sacramento, thank God). I live in one of the most beautiful places on Earth, mere steps from the gorgeous Pacific Ocean. We’re not rich, but we’re pretty happy.

Not that I see the ocean that often. Cause if I’m not stepping on tiny little Lego people, I’m looking for their minuscule heads and arms my five-year old son suddenly can’t live without; finding plastic swords in my pocket or makeup case; cleaning sticky bubble-gum flavored lip gloss off my car’s leather seats; hunting down Spongebob undies and left-handed scissors; and scrubbing my kitchen counter at least three times per day from flu-spreading germs while fighting cavities and naughty words in a single bound.

(I think women who say they love all this may be lying. I love the soft cheeks, precious hugs and snuggles, reading books and chats. I don’t even mind the fatigue or when they’re sick. A Lego light saber stuck in my heel, not so much. But, I love it more than some idiot manager going off on me and all the inane reports. I will admit—it IS more fun to watch my five-year old lose his shit. That is cute. So in that regard, okay yes…I love it. Passionately.)

All while writing books and now helping writers learn social media. (So technically I WORK – just waiting for the making money part to kick in :-).

I took to motherhood like a bird takes to flight, which surprised me a little given that I’m kind of a high-strung selfish bitch. Vodka helps. Finding a balance between writer and mom is a constant struggle. Throw in finding (and using) my groove as a sexy woman and whoa – it can be an effort. Humor, snark, coffee, red hair – those are my crutches. (Well, don’t forget black heels and nude lip gloss–like you would.)

As is a guy who cooks, semi-does the laundry, and makes me killer martinis at just the right moment when I’m clinging to the ceiling like a cat on its ninth life.

I’m not complaining.

A cleaning fairy would really clinch the deal though.

Find me on Twitter, Facebook, Goodreads, and if you want a good, snarky read (both men and women are loving it ), purchase my eBook A Walk In The Snark just $2.99 on Amazon. 5/5 dentists laughed. So will you.

  1. cute & true,, medicinal herbs work better than vodka ha!

  2. Rachel,

    Loved your book A Walk in the snark. Read it on a recent vacation. You make me laugh, girl.
    Thanks for sharing. I've subscribed so I will be in the loop.

  3. Streetlights94 permalink

    It's amazing how sometimes we don't face up to what might be right in front of us at first. I worked and worked and worked until it was taken away from me (you know) and forced to be a stay at home mom, something I thought I wouldn't ever enjoy. The biggest surprise? I love it. Joke's on me. I wonder what I was running from for all those years I was working? Something for me to think about.

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