I am a wife. I am a mother. I am a homemaker.
I know so many people, especially in today’s time, get all weird if they are called a homemaker. Instantly the idea of Mrs. Cleaver in her pearls, high heels, and perfect roast comes to mind. That is NOT what I’m talking about here. Well, it is, but in a more realistic manner. My house is not always spotless, supper is not always not burnt, and my outfit is hardly ever more than some yoga pants and a stained tee shirt. But I’m still a homemaker.