The job I have is quite mundane,
If not for God I’d go insane.
For what it takes to be this person,
Strangely enough took little coercion.
I gladly accepted my mop and my broom.
And traded my sports car for one with more room.
Gave up all those nights of staying out late,
For being up early and exhausted by eight.
My job description goes on without end.
There’s dinner and dishes, clothing to mend;
Oh, breakfast and lunches, feeding the cat.
Most mornings I’m helping him look for his hat.
I pick up dirty clothing all through the day,
And it is surprising what I’ll throw away.
The toys the kids play with are all on the chairs,
I thank God I now have a house without stairs!
I talk on the phone quite often you see,
But seldom to someone who’s calling for me.
It’s bill collectors, buddies, or a telephone jerk.
Though sometimes my husband will call me from work.
If I had a dime for each light I’ve turned out,
I’d be a wealthy woman, without any doubt.
The wee ones can’t reach them, the big ones don’t care
So when the electric bill comes, I hear my share.
If dinner is ready they’re sure to be late;
But if it’s behind no one can wait!
And speaking of dinner, I rarely sit down,
I struggle and juggle much like a clown.
When he gets home, I hear how his day went.
If this sounds like complaining, that’s not how it’s meant.
So when he does ask me, “How was your day?”
Usually “fine” is all that I say.
All the day long the chores that I do,
Need to be done again when each day is through.
Since chores of a housewife are done every day,
They hardly get noticed; it’s a wonder I stay!
Written by myself in 1995 (my married name was actually Rebecca Phillips at that time though, and I lived on Wilmington Island, Georgia.