Do you notice that your Facebook account, email account or any other account that is somehow fashioned as a Social Network asks you to describe yourself? Describe myself? Huh! How am I suppose to do that? But there it is, that simple question, who are you? Hmm...
I was on the phone with my bank the other day and the lady asked me if there was another number they could reach me at during the day. Basically she wanted to know if there was a work number that they should have on file. I told her that there was no other number, that I am a stay-at-home mom. She gave me a friendly laugh and told me that her and her female co-workers refer to this this occupation as Domestic Goddess. This is when I laughed, and maybe not so friendly but more in a "Pfft" kind of way. Domestic Goddess!
When I think of Goddess I think of this beautiful lady, wearing beautiful colors that match her skin tone just perfectly. Not wearing the color of food that one of my children either hugged me with all over their hands or Alyson sneezed all over me during mealtime. Wouldn't a Goddess love to have her house in order and everything just perfect so that when someone comes over unexpectantly you house doesn't look like someone tipped it over and shook it?.. .Just for fun. Although that's the state you would find my house in more times than not. And it's not because I don't clean. I clean every single day but for some reason there is rarely a time when my entire house stays that way.
Wouldn't a Goddess always be on time, not notoriously late for everything that has an appointment time attached to it? I am very organized, the more children I had, the more organized I became. But even when events are planned to perfection something happens and everything is tossed to the wind. I even set all my clocks in my house five minutes fast so that I am getting out the door with some time to spare. But when I am running around, throwing everything and anything into a diaper bag, grabbing snacks and juice boxes for the van and trying to make sure that all hats and mittens are on, somewhere during this "in house" workout it all falls apart. Either the dog barks, or Jonathan all of a sudden needs to go to the bathroom or the phone rings, but I am always late.
There are some things that I have bang on though. Maybe this would be another type of Goddess. I will forget to check Destyni's pockets of her jeans and throw them in the dryer without any regard of the lip gloss that was forgotten in the pockets. Only to realize as we are rushing (surprise, surprise) out the door and I look down at my shirt and see a big stain on it. I will, without a doubt, go to the grocery store to get milk and pick up fifteen items only to realize as I am starting supper that out of those fifteen items milk was the only thing I did not pick up.
So I don't think that I will be entering Domestic Goddess in any slot that asks who I am. Not unless as a Domestic Goddess I have power to add just four more hours to each day. That way it would be entirely possible for me to get all of the things that need to done actually done. And then I may have time to dress up, have an immaculate house and live up to a Goddess standard.