OH NO! Am I a "Trad Wife?"

Everybody Needs a Label (or not)

Let’s start out by clarifying something. I do not have chickens in my back yard. I am high key terrified of them. You do know that they’re the descendants of DINOSAURS, right? Nope. I am not having them around nor am I sticking my hand underneath them just so I can save .03 per egg (or less) since they do have to be fed and housed and coddled in order for me to harvest eggs. Yeah. No.

I am, however, fond of baking bread, planning and making meals, and I do not work outside of the house. I work inside of it. I clean the house, and do all the laundry. I do not mow the lawn but I will work in my little raised beds of veggies every summer with a level of joy that my younger self, forced to do the same with my parents, would never have fathomed.

I am not a bread winner and never have been. In fact, I’ve been mediocre at most of the potentially bread winning things I’ve tried my hand at, for reasons both within and outside of my control. Generationally, I’m in that odd betweeners gap born in a year that makes me a super young Gen X but married to a super late Boomer. There never was much discussion or debate about who would do the bulk of the baby and child work between the whole growing them, birthing them, feeding them, etc. while my husband got up early and left for work every day. And I’m not upset about that. It was more or less what I expected.

I was also a trailing spouse expat for 7 years, hauling three small kids around to three different countries, managing pretty much every aspect of all the moves, schools, negotiating how to get food, doctors, and pain killers in two countries where I did not speak the language + one where I did. And that’s all I did. When the kids were in school I did a lot of coffees, lunches, massages, and other shit that we ex-pat wives were wont to do. And yes, there is a fictionalized version of this memoir in the works and it will be a hoot.

I mean, I check a lot of boxes for the trad wife label, I guess. My kids are all vaccinated, mind you and I can say I’m super proud of them right now as functioning and productive adults in their various fields. But I was the mom who had healthy snacks ready at home after school every day and made balanced dinners (almost) every night. I drove to piano, football, track, and soccer practices, games and tournaments and I ran more fundraising committees than I care to enumerate for various aspects of my kids’ education and sports endeavors.

I sold a few houses here and there, and dabbled in running a brewery with some guys, wrote some books. But otherwise, I was about my family—their clean clothes, healthy meals, social calendars, walked dogs, etc.

I did not, however, do all of this and remain Instagram-worthy at all times. Maybe that’s the difference.

Maybe I don’t understand the label of trad wife (or SAHM??). I get that it’s somehow both an insult and a badge of pride. A lot of labels work that way. MAGA for instance. I know people who are “more MAGA than ever” all over the place and damn proud of it. I am not, to be clear, and see that label as a racist, sexist, white Christian nationalist, anti-science red flag.

Labels on other things work the same way. Some beer drinkers see “lager” on a beer label and immediately dismiss it as beer flavored water. Others see “IPA” on a different label and automatically shudder and roll their eyes at the concept of enjoying bitterness and astringency.

Doodle dogs are another one I don’t get. In the interest of full disclosure our family included two amazing Standard Poodles for many years so I kinda don’t understand why you’d want any variation on that theme. But anyway, “doodle” is a label slapped on a mixed breed dog that supposedly says something about it—and that something is that it is “part poodle” which means “partly perfect.” However, it is still a mixed breed, not a purebred dog. I am NOT a dog snob, to be clear. I currently am harboring two of the most wonderful mutts on the planet and would take more if I could. However, your “doodle” label means little other than you thought you got a purebred dog and you … did not.

Maybe, just maybe we should drop the labels. I mean, the ones that are confusing, like trad wife or SAHM. The pejorative version of it, or what I think it is, is a woman who doesn’t want to work for a living but is some kind of a home-schooling, anti-vax, breastfeed-them-until-they-go-to-school, MAGA type who spends 90% of her time making social media content about all of the above while her kids watch Bluey. Some of that bears out, if my deeply cringey dive into their ilk online taught me anything. But there’s another set of women who decry a lot of that but who also stay home with kids to raise them (i.e. don’t work outside of the home), garden, bake, and don’t use screens 22 hours of the day to distract their spawn while they are making their social media influencer audience-ready content.

Whoops, I judged* just then.

Ready for a laugh? Click here for an AI’s thoughts on SAHMs.

In short, it’s about words. It’s always about words. The words (labels) we are using on each other and ourselves have the sort of power that you don’t realize until you start thinking hard about the words that others use on you. You know, like those three rich ladies on vacay together in Thailand? On that show where we always get to see some celebrity dude’s penis, if only for a few seconds worth of giggling? (I love this show so don’t hit me with any negativity on it, ok?)

But if you’re watching, you’ll note that those three women use the same words on each other to mean both good and bad things. And when one of them isn’t actively listening, the other two use labels and words to diss them.

Words have power, both ones said and unsaid.

One of my favorite examples is the whole “She looks great for her age/ she looks great for having had 3 kids/ she looks great …considering.”

How about just saying “She looks great.” And leave it at that? It’s a call back to my most recent rant here about judging*. Mind your body. Mind your business. Let others mind theirs (unless they somehow think/believe that their business is your body or your business).

See how that works? We would all be so much better off if we just took the Mafia running security at Planned Parenthood approach.

How ‘bout you mind your business? Let people “mom” or “wife” how they want as long as they don’t interfere with your own ability to do the same. NOTE that I said “don’t interfere with” which implies “keep your kids vaccinated. Your inability to understand science does not mean I have to get a disease, thanks.”

Some randomness…

March Madness is upon us and I am so stoked to have my Louisville Cardinals back in the hunt. Our new coach Pat Kelsey (ACC Coach of the Year) is one of the most unifying, anti-toxic masculinity guys out there and he’s done the sort of turn-around of a program with a bunch of players he literally cobbled together out of nothing that should and hopefully will be one for the history books. The Louisville basketball program is a blue blood, make no mistake. We were down. But will not be counted out.

We got season tickets this year and yes we drove to every weekend game except one, and yes we made sure that our seats were full even in the middle of the week thanks to several fellow, local friends/fans! It has brought us major joy.

POWER OF THE UNIT!

What I’m reading: A book by a fellow local author, Penny Zang, called Doll Parts. Just started it and it’s so far the sort of un-putdownable I love! Review coming soon.

Other things getting me through this label-heavy, pre-post-apocalypse:

The Pitt while also on a major rewatch of ER, which makes for some interesting convos like “wait, was that CARTER who did that or was that DR. ROBBY??”

White Lotus (see above and also Parker Posey is BACK).

Paradise. A little too on the nose in terms of current events but hugely entertaining.

Landman. Political incorrectness, served up Billy Bob Thornton/Taylor Sheridan style.

With Love, Meghan. See above re: labels and how they can all kiss my shiny ass.

xoxo

Liz

Hey! If you’re in Greenville SC or nearby or want an excuse for a trip…Join me TOMORROW at the amazing Indie bookshop M. Judson, downtown Greenville, from 10 a.m. - 12 p.m. to get your copy of Cul-de-Sac, my domestic suspense novel for just $10 AND I’ll sign it AND we can chat! see you there!