The Real Housewife of Arden Hills

I’m going to be absolutely frank with you. I don’t have a domestic bone in my body – so my new identity, which my husband adoringly calls The Real Housewife of Arden Hills, has been quite a transition since the loss of my job. So much that I’ve written about the experiences in this strange new world.

Excerpt from my novel – loosely based on my recent life’s experience.

A strange thing happened tonight after my oldest son Charlie’s football game. Ben asked why I didn’t sit with the other ‘at home’ moms.
“What do you mean by that?” I scowled as if it was a poke or an insult.
“Well, you’re one of them now. You know… a housewife. A real housewife.”
“So you think just because I’ve been unemployed for nine months, my status in life has changed?”
“Well, yeah. Sort of how it looks, hon. Plus, nine months is long enough to have a baby,” he smiled at me longing for another child.

“Stop that!” I looked at him in disbelief.

Suddenly I realized that Ben had given up on my job search. Secretly, I knew that he enjoyed being the sole provider of our family. It gave him a newfound sense of responsibility and status that I'd deprived from him our entire marriage. My drive and ambition to crawl the corporate ladder and become a wealthy executive with power and status often left Ben in the dust. Leaving him to manage the household and nearly single-handedly raise our boys. At times, I’d travel out of state up to 50% of the month. I’d become a self centered, over confident snob. Addicted to a first class executive lifestyle. An undeniable Corporate Diva. An alter-ego that my friends and family coined “hotel snob”.

Was Ben right? Am I a real housewife? What is a real housewife? I have no idea. Since age sixteen, I’ve had a job. With the exception of six weeks maternity leave with each of my children I’ve never really had any length of time off of work. Time off for me always included checking email and voicemail from my constant companion, Mr. Blackberry. I knew ‘at home’ moms as acquaintances of my boys, but not well. I secretly wondered about their lives. To a ‘corporate mom’ these mothers were foreign to me; they had a completely different reality. They were a tight knit group, not letting just anyone into their circle, especially a working mom. Many asked how I did it; managing a career and a household. In response, I’d tell them I just don’t know any other way.

One thing is for sure as it relates to my husband’s quest into transforming me into a housewife, I am not domestic. I never learned the art of cooking, cleaning and other home-related tasks. Really, I’m not a snob in this regard; I was just never taught. Now was my chance to prove that I could master the art of managing a household. As any good marketer would, I decided to make a profile of the optimal twenty-first century housewife. What internet sites does she visit? What televisions shows does she watch? Where does she shop? What magazines does she read? Where does she live? No. No. This is all wrong. I’m not selling Clorox or spinning the benefits of fewer Fritos in a bag of chips.

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Well fans, that’s all you get for now!
Just Live Your Life….hey..ay..ay.