I wrote this article around the early to mid nineties after a particularly hectic and frustrating day.
It was originally titled, “It’s a Southern thing, isn’t it?” But when I sent it out into the ether a friend from the north was a little offended that I referred only to our southern sisters. After giving it some thought and tweaking it to be more about today I arrived with this version. I have found that some things never change despite growing older and (ahem) wiser.
(what you are about to read is not autobiographical…only some of it)
I have an affliction. I call it the ‘wonder woman syndrome’. 
You know what I’m talking about- wife, mother, career woman, etc. Why do I do this? Well, I think it’s a woman thing. We learn by example. Our mothers did it. From the time we are born we’re shown and told what it takes to be a ‘good girl’.
If you were born in the forties or fifties you see mom put the meal on the table every night at six. Of course this is after listening and assisting with homework, doing the yardwork, keeping house and getting the children ready for bed. 
If you were born in the sixties you see mom venture out of the home “to work”. Of course she still is expected to make the beds , fix lunches, see the kids off to school and get her husband to his job. 
She returns home to make supper, turn down the beds, assist with homework, clean up the dishes and if her husband feels like it, maintain her wifely duties upstairs. Of course we won’t even begin to get into what their mothers were expected to do.
(Did I mention that my granny hopped freight trains on her honeymoon to find work so they could eat?) -but we can talk about that later.
Still, things do get better. Thanks to Gloria Steinem, Doctor Laura and the ladies at Fox news we have independence and free will. We are now free to pursue a career, have a home, children and a husband(or not). Our roles are changing and expanding everyday.
A typical day in my household begins around 5 a.m. I run downstairs to do the ironing or sometimes it’s windows or folding clothes. I hasten through these tasks enjoying the solitude of my morning.
6 a.m. – Return upstairs to prepare lunch for my husband (the kids are already through college and out of the house)
6:15 a.m. – Make a list for the grocery store and Walmart and decide which evening to treat myself to these two outings. Check the Iphone to make sure there are no birthday or anniversary cards due and make a note that Sue is feeling down and to call her later.
6:20 a.m. – Jump in the shower rushing through to wash my hair and shave my legs(just in case I get lucky). It’s onto the other room to prepare for my ‘job’ careful not to wake a sleeping husband who lounges another two hours before hitting the ratrace.
7:28a.m. – The job(away from home) begins. During the course of the day I handle all the little crisis that come up at work, schedule dentist and dr. appts for the family, file insurance… well you get the picture.
Home, sweet home
It’s evening , you rush home to throw together a gourmet dinner fit for your king, clean up the kitchen, sort the mail, pay bills and then attempt to spend quality time with your husband while he watches Fox news in the living room and you just try to stay awake long enough for him to make it to bed.(did I forget to mention your other job as lover?)
We all know that while we maintain a fifteen hour day, juggle the various roles that we have assigned ourselves, our final and most challenging job is lover.
We struggle to defy the laws of gravity and circumstance as it misplaces the extra roll of fat you’ve been meaning to work off in your spare time. Defeat the pull of fatigue as you demonstrate to yourself, your mother and the world that you are indeed wonder woman.
It has been said time and again but men, as a whole seem to look more seasoned, more dignified as they grow older. A little pot belly, well, that’s just a testament to Marge’s cooking. Graying on top, I’m sure they earned everyone and after all it just makes them look distinguished. (check out my Age is just a number-post https://sassaleeyours.com/age-is-just-a-number/)
Finally, just as you think that there might be rest for the weary, someone (usually your husband) wants to know if you would have time to organize a surprise party for a birthday coming up at the office. Of course you will, you’re wonder woman. (who perpetrated this myth?)
But wait! There’s more.
The role of friend. That’s where you remember everyones birthday, what they like, don’t, can and can’t eat. Who’s mad at their husband or boyfriend, who needs surgery, who has a bad day, whew!
Of course all of this is because you want to.
Wouldn’t it be nice if they called you first just once and a while. “How are you doing, just thought I’d call to chat, or “would you like to go out to dinner Wednesday night?” At least you wouldn’t experience the paranoia of wondering, ‘ well, did they really want to get together with me or did they just not know how to say no?’
OR -Could it be that they are caught up in a whirlwind of their own where your phone call is the breath of fresh air that says …there is life for wonder women. 
Who perpetrated this myth that you can do all, be all to everyone and everything but yourself?
You did. I did. 
We say, “it’s o.k. I don’t mind, I can handle it.” it’s a southern, northern, woman thing. Take care of your guy, your family hearth and home. This is our duty, we’re supposed to enjoy these roles.
At birth we are conditioned to follow in the footsteps of our mother and their mothers before them. Anything less would be viewed as weak, a betrayal to the sisterhood of womankind. So we carry on, reveling in our role as this super being that no mere mortal male could ever hope to live up to.
Yes, it would be nice to come home from work and have a nice hot bath drawn up, your husband greeting you at the door saying “take your time, when you’re ready slide on that red dress I think you look so sensational in” (he noticed), “I’m taking you out to dinner” (with no ulterior motive in mind and no pay back expected) “tonight is yours.”
And you say… “oh honey, that’s too much money, how was your day? Why don’t I just throw something in the oven…”
We never learn. it’s a woman thing.
Sassaleeyours…