4th Entry - 25th September 1996
Time for anything really active is limited in our house right now as we have few daylight hours together with Chris. He gets out of bed at lunch time and is getting ready to head off to work again in the late afternoon. I often wonder how he manages and I know that I really don't do my share to help him.
I spend so much time planning what to do to help, I organise everything in my head, hours of plotting and planning, day dreaming, yet I seldom get around to doing anything really practical! I make "To Do Lists" I make lists of all descriptions, I think I even have lists of lists! I plot and I plan and fall into a day dream of perfect domesticity, then the dream ends and its time to send him off to work again and once more I have been no help to him at all. Then the guilt sets in, like I have mentioned before, when it comes to guilt trips I am a frequent flier! Anyway the guilt makes me miserable and resentful and I sit and stew about my own short comings and all the while time is passing by.
I have never been a very practical person, my head in the clouds and the ground far from my feet. I dream of domestic perfection, a far cry from the 90's woman! Burning ones bra and chanting politically correct slogans doesnt seem to fit in with my images of frilly aprons, fresh flowers artfully arranged, the cookie jar full of home baked delicasies, the aroma of freshly baked bread wafting through the house. Hand stitched cloths and delicate lace work scattered on every surface and wholesome meals served at the table. The table laid with a crisp white cloth and pristine nappery and gleaming cutlery, a floral center piece gracing the table and crisp hot bread rolls (home baked of course) in a wicker basket off to one side, what an image!
Reality is a little different however. Meals are often eaten on our bed in front of the TV (awful conversation killer)they are haphazard affairs, our favourite is our own recipe of baked chicken and fresh green salad. Cooking is pretty much a family affaire, with a large portion of the work falling on Candices slender young shoulders. She has gallantly stepped into the breach when I no longer could hold up my end of the bargain.
There are times when I resume my role as "home executive", I firmly take charge, delegate what I cannot do myself and accept the challenge and do things I find difficult. On these occasions I cook up a storm and the house gleams in every nook and cranny. Then befor long my mind fills with day dreams and my feet leave the ground and reality slips away once more.
I am who I am because of who I want to be.
