My standards are pretty low when it comes to two things…housekeeping and myself.
I don’t spend a lot of brain energy thinking about what to cook, what to eat, when to bath and other mundane stuff like that. I don’t get in a tizzy about doing dishes, unwashed laundry, the clutter of toys and crayons lying here and there, the towel hanging from the door knob of our bedroom, the thin layer of dust enveloping the shelves, the undone living room and all the mess that is my home right now.
While my husband goes for work early, I let myself stay in bed for a couple more hours. That is because I stay up late in the night watching House and Sex in the City. (I like Dr.House and Carrie Bradshaw for being absolutely perfect in being imperfect.) Am I an ideal wife? No. Definitely not.
The first thing I do in the morning after waking up is running to the bathroom for peeing. I always forget to align and tuck my bed sheets neatly.
I don’t have designer clothes or saris in all colors of the rainbow, in various shades and hues. I have only comfort clothes, just enough to wear. My wardrobe is consists of clothes lying one over the other like a small mountain rather than in a neatly folded and tucked manner.
I don’t diet. I can have ice cream for breakfast. When I find something really mouthwatering, I eat more than what my stomach can take.
I am too lazy for skin creams or facials. I have only heard of others doing waxing, bleaching, manicure or pedicure. I have never got them done for myself. Since I am a big time procrastinator, I do my eyebrows, only when I really feel like doing it, and that is, once in a couple of months or so..
My daughter likes to draw on the walls with her crayons. Instead of preventing her from doing it, I let her do what she wants to do. I feel that it brings some color to the other wise dull white walls of our house. And when it rains, I take her outside and we both play in the rain, throwing mud at each other and jumping into shallow puddles and splashing through water. We go back inside the house only after the rain stops ..I can see my next door neighbour watching us from her balcony wondering what a glorious mess we are. When I smile at her and wave, I can see that ‘oh what sort of a mother is she’ scorn in her eyes.
When we are in the park, we run around and play ‘catch and catch.’ My daughter likes playing with me instead of playing with other children in the park. May be she sees the child in me. Or may be she is too clingy. I don’t know. Am I an ideal mother? No. Definitely not.
My husband knows that I am just the diametric opposite of his mother, who is an ideal woman, literally. Yet he feels at home in the den of our place, and is always at ease with me.
Point to note: I am not a feminist or a ‘liberated’ spirit who sees good house keeping or up keeping oneself as forms of sub-ordination of women into ‘the cult of domesticity.’ It is just that my standards are pretty low, as I have said earlier. I want to become an ‘ideal’ woman some day (figuratively). But I don’t know when and on what date I would become that…sigh..:(