Not so desperate housewives

I attended an all-ladies birthday party themed ‘wet and wild’ at a neighbour’s house on Friday night. Since I moved into this community about 15 months ago, I have attended a few housewarming parties and kenduri doa selamat in the neighbourhood, but this would be the first birthday bash in my ‘capacity’ as a housewife.

Housewife…it sounds so foreign to me. Even after 9 months of being one, I still can’t fully get hold of the idea of being a dependent, even though I decided to become one at my OWN accord and of course with full support from hubby. Given a choice, I’d rather label myself as a full time mom than a housewife for reasons that I myself don’t know. Perhaps by doing so it gives me a greater sense of significance than the latter. It makes me feel important again.

How does one behaves like a housewife anyway? Right now, the image of Stefford Wives is flashing in my mind. Scary isn’t it? As a new comer, admittedly, to this very day I still can’t fit in with this group of housewives completely. I just don’t know what to talk to them. The best that I could do is talk about the kids and house defects. What else do housewives talk about? Perhaps if I spent a little bit more time with them, I could find a common ground.

Unfortunately, between a baby who depends entirely on me for nourishment (she refused to take even breast milk in a bottle) and my second job as my kids’ taxi driver, not to mention my occasional freelance job, I have very little time getting to know them better. If there was a crash course on how to be a better housewife, I for one, may just go for it.

Sometimes I wonder whether I am a housewife material (although a bit too late now). Do I make the cut? Can I survive being one – mentally, physically and financially - should the status quo remain longer that what I’ve planned?

Frankly, I have actually started to have some serious doubts. Being an independent woman, the thought of being a dependent took some time to sink in at first. A lot of adjustments and sacrifices had to be made at the beginning. I had to be a bit vigilant of my spending too. These days, I make a conscious effort to ask for permission from my husband should I wish to go out – shopping, meeting friends or whatever. This may seem ancient to some, but as a Muslim wife, it is a duty that I faithfully abide by. My hubby once said jokingly that I should submit an application form online for him to approve a day in advance. Talk about the internet age hah.

But there’s absolutely no denying that I am having a hell of a good time NOT having to work. No pressure by the boss, no deadlines, no late hours at the office and plenty of other nos. Best of all, I can take my time to do stuffs that I love, blogging for example, spend more time with the kids, get more involved in their lives, smell the roses every day and plenty of other privileges and perks of being at home 24/7. Errr…I wonder why am I complaining at the first place???

Anyway, back to the party, the housewives had a jolly good time that night, no husbands, no kids. There was loud music in the air and plenty of food that could feed the entire neighbourhood. Cup cakes that bear the shapes of human anatomy (I think you get the idea yah) were of course the highlight. The birthday girl happily licked the cakes to the cheer of others. Unfortunately, I had to leave just before the actual fun started – the wet and wild games. My 6 months old was waiting to be fed at home.

I hope the next time I am invited to a party; I could mingle with the housewives crowd better. I am taking this as a challenge for myself. I say it’s time for a refresher course - need to find my old copy of “How to talk to anyone anytime” by Larry King…hahaha.