Welcome to the Frumpy Zone!

You have entered the Frumpy Zone. (Cue Twilight Zone theme song.) A place where I awaken each day to find my house is still a mess no matter how much cleaning I did the day before. A place where I have become a giant hamster, running around in circles, going nowhere...and my thighs are still flabby. A place where I must successfully communicate on a daily basis with three slime covered creatures under three feet tall and not lose my mind.

OK, stop the music. Sorry for the overly dramatic beginning, but I couldn’t think of a better way to introduce myself. I am the Frumpy Housewife, mother of three children: ages 7, 3, and 2. The Frumpy Zone is my special place to go where I share all the ‘joys’ of motherhood.

How did I become the Frumpy Housewife? Well, I believe it started with the birth of my second child and the decision to leave my career and become a “Stay-At-Home Mom.” I had such high hopes for myself. My bathrooms would sparkle and my closets would be organized.

Unfortunately, my fantasy world of becoming a Domestic Goddess didn’t quite fit with reality. My toddler sticking to the kitchen floor was my first clue.

Once my third child came on the scene, my downward spiral into frumpiness was inevitable. Four years later, I gave up my Domestic Goddess dreams and embraced my limitations. (For one, I don’t have superpowers…)

I’ve decided to share my frumpy adventures with you so that maybe the next time your child’s diaper explodes in the mini-van, and you forgot the diaper bag, you’ll know that you’re not alone.

First published in Richmond Parents Monthly September 2006 as “Next Stop, the Frumpy Zone.”

Reflection January 1, 2019

Flash forward 12 years…my kids are now 20, 16, and 15. I only lasted 3 years as a Stay-At-Home Mom before I went back to work, thinking that was my way out of the Frumpy Zone. Not even close! The house was even messier and I had to deal with the guilt of not being at home. But fear not, you won’t believe this while you’re in the thick of things, but it gets better…or should I say, different. Instead of not having a minute to myself because my kids are requiring me for something, I could go days without seeing my teens if I didn’t force them to leave their electronic filled bedrooms to spend some time with me. And, get this: they are big enough to do chores. So hang in there and enjoy the ride.