This morning a friend called to ask me what I was doing today.  “Domestic Goddess!”  I said.  “Me too!”  she replied.  Then I got to thinking about her house and my house, and I realised that we each had very different ideas of what a “domestic goddess” did.

You see I never grew up with a very domesticated mother.  She was a career woman in the sense that she had no choice but to go out to work.  Usually there was never anytime or she was too tired.  So, weeks went by, and if you started to think your bed sheets were looking (and feeling) less than linen fresh, then you changed them yourself.  If you needed a shirt ironed same rule applied.  School lunches were another task that fell to your own volition lest you wanted to starve.  Now, don’t get me wrong..we weren’t neglected (ok maybe just a little) it’s just that priorities were different then.  For my family anyway.

This lack of domestic pride has followed me into my own adulthood, and as hard as I have tried, this is one genetic trait I can not kick.  In fact I see a lot of merit in spending time with my kids or with my nose buried deep in a wonderful book.

For example, I don’t do bathrooms.  Toilets yes!  Bathrooms no!  “Fine”, you might say.  “So who does the bathrooms?”  I don’t know.  “Not me.”  I do manage to iron, but only once a week, and the pile that the ironing comes from teeters in my lounge until the pile falters.  This I see as a sign from God that I should now fold and put the clothing away.  I wash the clothing daily however my enthusiasm ends there, and frequently I am forced to wash the same load several times before it is hung out.  And lets not speak of the horrors that await us in the kitty litter!

Occupationally were are required to move frequently.  This is always an excellent opportunity for your family (and strange removalists) to get a clear view of how domestically inclined you’ve been over the last few years.  Children are always excited to find their long missing toys under the lounge that hasn’t moved from the day the last removalist plonked it down!  One greasy, smelly chap once told me that he had helped move the people who lived in our house previously, and that she had kept it ALOT cleaner than I had!  Ha!  Cheeky sod!

People take a lot of pride in their space, and place a lot of status on the cleanliness of their abode.  One friend once boasted to me that HER cleaner complained that she wanted the house too clean!  I felt for that cleaner!

 

So, how can I claim the title of “Domestic Goddess?”  Because I am a goddess at all I do.  Some people might say diva, but I think that conjers up images of Mariah Carey, and I don’t wear my clothes that tight.

I am “Goddess” because I am woman!  We are all “Goddess”.  Your title is just waiting for you to claim it!