Sunday Morning

Our first contributor!!!

reAAction is a friend of Ms B, who greatly shares with us the enthusiasm and excitement we have for this blog. Read more about her at our Meet the Friends section where you’ll also find information about her personal blog. Do follow her sexy, sultry, humorous and interesting oh-my-God-she-did-not-just-say-that tweets on Twitter! You’re gonna love her!!!

Disclaimer: The views and opinions expressed in this post are strictly those of the blog post author, reAAction.

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My friends would have been surprised to see me making French toast, bright and early on a Sunday morning.  They would be even more surprised to know that I was actually cooking for someone other than myself.

Let’s get a couple of things clear here: I was cooking for my little cousin and French toast is as good as it gets with me.  The kitchen is not my domain by any means, but I do wish the opposite were true.  In any case, why would my friends be so shocked?  They know me.  They know that the kitchen is not where I belong.  In fact, a good friend of mine told me many years ago, “I just don’t see you as being domestic.”  Poof! Just like that, what I had known for some time materialized into those words.

So there I was, cooking, entertaining a child, and cleaning up after him.  I sat down with my coffee in the kitchen as he wandered off to play video games and thought, “Wow.  This life is so not for ME.”  By “this life” I mean that of a wife and mother.  The domesticated woman bears so much responsibility.  It’s exhausting just thinking about what roles a woman must fulfill once she’s the “lady of the house.”  I think about cleaning and cooking and pursuing a career and maintaining a healthy relationship with my husband (if I choose to ever get married…but that’s a different topic) and keeping my individuality and spending time with my friends and family and maybe even starting my own family and and AND it goes on and on.  Are you kidding me?

Some women are rooted by their desires.  They were meant to be anchored by a man (or woman) and a family and all this domesticated bliss is housed and fenced off in that ideal 3.5 bedroom house in the suburbs.  Some women just want to roam free.  I am of the latter….for now.  I want lazy Sunday mornings for me.