Hausfrau

I should feel guilty, right? And feel some sense of inadequacy that my life's work isn't contributing to the greater good. I am not earning a paycheck so I don't contribute financially to my household budget. I'm not strenously volunteering to offset the working void in the universe. I'm not at home spending my days molding the minds of my young offspring. In fact, I don't do much so it's only right that that should produce a healthy amount of guilt in response. I mean, I should be beating myself up. Shouldn't I?

But I don't and I'm not. I don't feel even an ounce of guilt. I thought I would. I thought I would be climbing the walls questioning the meaning of my existence without a routine; a hard earned paycheck; bubbling, brutal work stress, but I don't. Apart from some occasional "I am women where's my roar?" moments, I'm adjusting quite well to my role as hausfrau. I'm just your run of the mill trailing spouse and for the time being that. is. okay.

It is not lost on me how fortunate I am to be in a situation where money isn't a stress and a packed calendar aren't the foundation of my happiness. It's funny that I am learning that I need much fewer things in my day or even week or even my life to be satisfied. Plenty of sleep. An activity strewn throughout my week's calendar. A good bowl of soup and a handmade pastry. Some trashy, mindless television. A loving husband and supportive family. Some laughs with my long distance girlfriends. And a good book. That's it really. I can be content in the small joys of life. I can find solace in my solitude.

There will come a time, I am sure, when I will eat my words and ache for the personal satification of working outside of the home. But time has not yet come, so nowI choose to be content. And to be Guilt.Less.