It’s been about six months since I was paid to work. The last four have been a whirl of poopy diapers, endless nursing and crash courses in Incy Wincy Spider and Patty Cake. So, is the sacrifice of a job and social llife worth it? Desperate to convince myself that indeed it is, I compiled this list in one of my anonymous Twitter accounts. Now, since I have someone to watch the infant for a few hours, I shall expound on the advantages of being a lazy housewife and stay-at-home mother.
- Cleaning shit is better than eating it: Success at work is often contingent on how eagerly one can lap up the boss’s frothy diarrhoea straight from the source. Office politics stink way more than any number of dirty diapers. I feel my life is cleaner now than it has ever been before.
- Housework is bad for your baby: Domestic drudgery is no longer necessary. All the latest studies say that a spotless home can keep your baby from developing a robust immune system. And if you have a dirty dog, you’ll be doing your child an even greater favour.
- Dirty laundry means dirty laundry: And there are unholy piles of it, nothing metaphorical about it – but all you need is a washing machine, not a PR campaign or social media clean-up operation. No one can drag your name through the mud, partly because you aren’t really meeting anybody to do nefarious things with. And since you’re no longer part of professional power struggles, no one cares enough to gossip or dig up incriminating things about you.
- Spreadsheet isn’t a single word: It’s two words on my calendar, done every Tuesday. Could never quite figure out those fucking Excel sheets. Spreading out the 100% Egyptian ones is so much easier.
- Baby talk means more than small talk: A heartfelt goo-goo sometimes makes more sense than the meaningless noise that small talk often is. This really hit home a few weeks ago when someone asked me how my father was. I paused – at that point of time he was grappling with an interesting dilemma and I was wondering if I should mention it. I started to, but seeing my hesitation, my guest stopped me, ‘Oh don’t bother, I am just making conversation.’ Now, in a way this was nice. She gave me an out and I appreciate it. But at the same time I felt a rush of irritation – what is the point of ‘conversation’ if it is purely dramaturgical in nature? Small talk is a way of filling in silence and a polite way to make listening unnecessary. It is a fundamentally dishonest mode of interaction. When a baby coos and gurgles, he or she is communicating love and a sense of connection. There is nothing false about it. My baby never talks about the weather. Yet, anyway.