Desperate Housewife

Let me preface this late-night stream of consciousness by admitting that I am sometimes often just a wee bit sarcastic.  At times, it is a protective measure.  At times, it is for comic relief.  At times, it's just plain how I feel.

On to today's revelation...My running joke since The Husband changed careers to become a fancy-schmancy international man-of-power (grin) and I *chose* (highlighted to remind myself of said choice) to take the afore-mentioned *planned sabbatical* from my career (eloquently phrased to make me feel more productive about my days spent convincing small people that the independence found from utilizing indoor plumbing really is a wondrous thing) has been that I began my new identity as a Desperate Housewife.

From directing meetings, fielding requests for expertise and delivering high profile corporate projects, I now manage one of the most challenging customer service environments, responding to simultaneous urgent and often irrational requests and ensuring that, though the customer is not always happy, he does benefit.  I run a busy haute cuisine restaurant serving hungry patrons with high expectations.  I am a logistics guru, directing a large just-in-time inventory with quickly changing needs and frequent warehouse relocations.  I am an Expert Subject Matter Expert, managing a greatly expanded volume of requests and range of topics.  I am a human Google.

What a leap up the ladder, eh?  In many ways, yes...yes, it was.  (As an added bonus, I think I just edited my resume!)

As I utilized tonight's after-wee-ones'-bedtime quiet to prepare the uniform service for business this week (OK, I was doing the laundry), I indulged in a guilty pleasure...Desperate Housewives.  Don't judge.  It's good stuff.  (And, yes, I am a day late viewing it, but why not take advantage of the ability to feed one's I Want It When I Want It entitlement complex?)

If you happen to not be sucked into the stiletto-ed, coifed, Suzy-Homemaker-with-a-secret drama, the main point to know is that despite the oversized characters which create the entertainment, Wisteria Lane holds - at least a little - something reminiscent of many women.  

A brief synopsis...Lynette found herself in an unexpected Wife-ly situation when she accompanied her husband, Tom, to a big hitter leadership conference...as his +1.  An educated, formerly successful professional woman turned stay-at-home-mom, she leapt (repeat: leapt) at the chance to engage in intellectual discussions that had nothing to do with dirty diapers, homework or dishes.  She soon realized, however, that she was afforded no place there.  In that world, she was ONLY a wife, as in she did not possess the capacity to have a single intelligent thought.  She had nothing of value to contribute.  She was to be a Lady Who Lunched and revel at her ability to be seen and not heard.  

Lynette did not go down without a fight.

Thankfully, The Husband's industry has evolved (ever so slightly) from its Donna Reed / June Cleave expectations of wives.  The Husband's promotions are not dependent upon the popularity of my hors d'oeuvres (although, I can throw a mean cocktail party) or how silently I don an apron.  But, I certainly found myself (not so quietly) cheering Lynette's brazen lashings out against "the system."  

Yes, I am a stay-at-home-mom...An SAHM, according to the lingo.  I make sure there are meals on the table and clothes in the dressers.  I am a teacher, doctor, mediator.  On any given day, I may be a monster, space alien, airplane pilot, builder-of-forts, snowman creator, and, oh yeah...wife.  

I admit, that is pretty darn good (even on the pretty darn bad days).  But, I am more than that.  I *do* have something to say.  It *used* to be somewhat intellectual.  I am fighting hard to not lose that.