Tales from the Frumpy Zone September 2006

You have entered the Frumpy Zone, home of the Frumpy Housewife. (Can you hear the theme from “Twilight Zone” playing?) A place where I awaken each day to find my house is still a mess no matter how much cleaning I did the day before. A place where I have become a giant hamster, running around and around on my own personal exercise wheel – going nowhere… and my thighs are still flabby. A place where I must successfully communicate with slime covered creatures under 3 feet tall. (OK stop the music.)

Sorry about the dramatic beginning, but I couldn’t think of a better way to introduce myself. I am the Frumpy Housewife, mother of three children: ages 7, 3, and 2. The Frumpy Zone is my special place to go where I share all of the foibles of motherhood. How did I become a Frumpy Housewife? Well, I believe it started with the birth of my second child and the decision to leave my career and become a “Stay-At-Home Mom.” I had such high hopes for myself. My bathrooms would sparkle, and my closets would be organized. Unfortunately, my fantasy world just didn’t quite fit with the reality. My toddler sticking to the kitchen floor was my first clue. Once my third child came on the scene, my downward slide into Frumpiness was quick. Four years later, I gave up my dreams of becoming a Domestic Goddess and embraced my limitations. The only major difference between a Frumpy Housewife and Domestic Goddess is a refillable bottle of ‘happy pills.’ How do you think June Cleaver and Mrs. Brady survived all those years of perfection?

I’ve decided to share some of my adventure in frumpiness with you so that maybe
the next time your child’s diaper explodes in the mini-van and you forgot the diaper bag, you’ll realize that you are not alone.