Sasee Magazine

I went to a meeting once, where at the beginning, all the newcomers had to stand up and answer two things: What is your name, and what do you do? One by one, about 20 people, mostly women, stood up, revealing a myriad of careers at varying levels. About half-way through, one woman stood up, gave her name, stated she was a housewife and sat down. Actually, what she said was that she was “just” a housewife. I squirmed at the thought. I was young and ambitious; I was also immature and judgmental. As I looked at her, feeling smug that I had a “real” job with a “real” title, two thoughts struck me: One, I could never imagine anyone being content as a housewife, and two, nobody should ever introduce any aspect of their life with the word “just.” At the time, I was climbing the corporate ladder, and the thought of being a housewife or homemaker was abhorrent to me; all I could think of was, what would I do every day, and how boring. Little did I know.

When my introduction came, I proudly stated my name and title, desperate to expand; after all, mine wasn’t just a job, it was a career with a definite track, as concrete and enticing as an airport runway, taking me to a place where the sky was the limit. At work, I thrived on challenge, growth and responsibility, embracing any project necessary to speed up the process. I was ambitious and hungry, and self-drive was my fuel. I was also a new wife.

There is a romantic bliss to the naivety of youth and the magic of plans. It is not until we get older that we learn what everybody else already knows: When it comes to making plans, there is one thing you can be sure of: Life will get in the way.

My profession, albeit exciting, paid significantly less than my husband’s so we never questioned whose had priority – regardless of my lofty aspirations. Over the next two decades, numerous job moves in his career resulted in extended absences from the workforce in mine. My resume became a nightmare of gaping holes messily strung together by jobs that tracked downwards versus up. What was strengthening his career was flushing mine down the proverbial toilet, followed slowly, but surely, by the gradual trickle of my once ambitious drive. The changing nature of his career also meant that our time and quality of life together would be vastly improved if I did not have the commitment of a regular job. Life had systematically unraveled my plan, nudging me into a new role as a housewife. I had become that woman – almost. To my surprise, I grew to love the flexibility and freedom my new stay-at-home role rewarded me with. We adopted “frugal is fun” as our new reduced-income mantra, and I threw myself into my role unashamedly, except for one thing: I flinched when anybody asked me the simple question: What do you do?

I so wanted to spout off a title I felt proud of. Instead, replying “I don’t work, or I am a housewife,” made me feel insignificant and lazy, and lacking of a worthy identity. In reality, this is absurd because I don’t know a single woman whose job it is to take care of a house who sits around all day complaining she is bored. Managing a house is work – and I don’t even have kids!

A news article came out years ago that calculated what it would cost to hire someone to perform all the duties required to take care of a home. The salary was over a $150,000 a year. It was validation for housewives and househusbands everywhere, and how sweet it felt. But still I squirmed when anybody asked me the dreaded question.

One day, as I filled out an application for a library card, I flinched at how to answer “your profession” when it hit me. Whether I had heard or read it I don’t recall, but I giggled as I scribbled in my new answer: Home Chief Executive Officer (CEO) and Goddess. With a grin on my face and a bounce in my step, I left the library with a stack of books and, more importantly, my answer.

I have been blessed with a husband who is happy to earn the bread; he is blessed with a wife who is happy to cook, clean and serve it. I am respectful of the demands and contributions of his job, he is respectful of the worth and value of mine. We function as a team, committed towards one common goal. One provides the money; the other enables a better quality of life.

Maturity and contentment have replaced youth and arrogance, and this homemaker now crams as much house stuff as possible in during the week. Weekends now ooze fun and relaxation versus cleaning and chores. Our quality of life by far compensates for the career (and salary) that never transpired, the irony being that it also allowed me to pursue the one thing I only dreamed of before – writing.

The value of what stay-at-home men and women everywhere do is undeniable, and I now consider it to be one of the most underrated jobs in today’s society. It needs a title make-over though, one that makes us smile while paying tribute to the true worth and status this multi-tasking job demands. So to housewives/husbands, stay-at-home moms/dads and homemakers everywhere, stand up and be proud, for we are all Home CEO Gods and Goddesses.

A gentle path has replaced my airport runway, but life is less hectic, and we are enjoying the stroll. Do I miss the corporate buzz? Sometimes. Would I have it any other way? No. Our lifestyle may be modest but the quality of it is enviable. As for the answer to the question; I am a Home CEO and Goddess, and there is no “just” about it.

Just ask me.