ICH BIN FRAU YAMUS! It took a full five years and two months, but I’ve finally done it. I’ve quit. I’ve capitulated. I’ve given up all pretense and self-delusion and accepted what I am. In fact, I’ve not only accepted it but I’ve fully embraced it. I’ve embraced it with the zeal of a newborn grasping for a breast; a child hugging a favoured stuffed toy; a puppy greeting his master; a woman sharing news of her engagement; a man grasping for a breast. I am a homemaker. I. Am a homemaker. I. Am. A. Homemaker.
Damn Straight I’m Mr. Mom!
I’m the heart of the golden age; the soul of the fifties. I am a homemaker. I’m a throwback to a simpler time; a relic from the past. I am a homemaker. I’m a Conservative’s dream; and a feminist’s nightmare. I am a homemaker. I’m a picker. I’m a grinner. I’m a lover. And I’m a sinner.
Whoops, sorry, that damn song’s stuck in my head.
I prepare the meals. I wash the dishes. I am a homemaker. I clean the house. I do the laundry. I am a homemaker. I shop for groceries. I shop for clothes. I am a homemaker. I prepare food for school events. I shuttle the kids. I am a homemaker. I make beds in the morning. I do my duty at night. I am a homemaker. I’m a joker. I’m a smoker. I’m a midnight toker. I get my lovin’ on the run.
Ach! That song again!
I hang up the laundry outside when the weather warrants such earth friendly efforts and 
fold it all up at the end of the day. I dust and vacuum weekly. I scrub the kitchen and dining room floors once a month with a sponge on my very own hands and knees! I even do toilets. I’m a living, breathing Procter & Gamble commercial. They should have me on the Mr. Clean bottles instead of that bald, albino dude. I’m an accent, braided pigtails, billowing bosom and 100 pounds (mostly bosom) away from being the ultimate German housekeeper! ICH BIN FRAU YAMUS! JA!
I even have an official chore schedule. A weekly schedule in handy spreadsheet format reminding me which day is Laundry Day, which day is Veggie & Fruit Cutting Day and which day is Cleaning Day. It’s a motivational ploy to actually get me to do this stuff. It’s amazing how easily an 8 ½ x 11 sheet of paper can guilt trip a person more effectively than a mother-in-law (this analogy is based solely on network television clichés not any specific personal experience … really … seriously … no, I’m serious … honest).
It is also needed because I’m 41 and on the fast track to full blown senility. Oh, the MRI may say that my brain is perfectly normal but I can assure you I’m on the fast track to early onset Alzheimer’s. It’s frightening how poor my memory is getting. I could suck litres of fish oil right out of a tuna’s backside and still have the cranial capabilities of a wave-worn rock.
I’m Also The Ultimate Home Handyman!
Ah, but there’s more. I’m no one trick pony. No sir. I do more, so much more. For one, I lift heavy things. I’m not particularly good at it but you’d be surprised what these spindles I call arms can do once leverage is employed properly. I mow and trim the lawn (something my son LOVES to watch me do but I can’t help but think won’t have any interest in doing himself whatsoever once he’s old enough to do so). I repair and upkeep the house including but not limited to painting, plumbing, electrical, and carpentry. I perform minor vehicle maintenance such as changing winter/summer tires and replacing windshield wipers (a remarkably frustrating task considering how ridiculously simple the mechanics of a wiper are). I even kill bugs (size restrictions on spiders notwithstanding). And I do all the rough-housing with the kids (apparently having willfully rendered my genitalia inoperative for procreation comes with the acknowledgement by all other household members that protecting said genitalia is no longer a priority for me or anyone else).
I’m June Cleaver and Bob Villa, Mary Poppins and Dwayne Schneider (too obscure?), Mrs. Cunningham and The Fonz all rolled into one fantastic hybrid home super-caretaker with a pinch of Red Green and Peg Bundy sprinkled on top. ICH BIN SUPERFRAU YAMUS!!
I have been struggling to write the past couple weeks so I figured I’d try to jumpstart the ole blog battery by delving into my letter archives. This bit is edited from my July 2013 letter.
Picture of woman at stovetop is unmodified from – Untitled by Ethan (SportSuburban) https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode
The Fonz button is unmodified from – The Fonz! by Pat (Cletch) Williams https://creativecommons.org/licenses/by/2.0/legalcode
Enjoyed the post. I too see my future as a ‘homemaker’ as we have a little sprog on the way, but I’ve got 5 years before I need to accept that this is what I’ll be 🙂
Glad you liked it. Thanks for commenting.
And remember, no matter what your spouse might say, the French Maid outfit is NOT required.
My god. You’re freaking awesomesauce! I sit on my porch, smoke, and read books. ICH BIN … SOMETHING NASAL AND GRUNTY!
Great post …
Thanks Brian. Glad you liked my post. I’ve never been called a sauce before but I’m thrilled to be an awesome once.