Women are homemakers. Home-workers. Home-keepers. They are supposed to be the organized ones, the ones who pay attention to every detail, anticipate every need, and keep the house humming smoothly while their husbands are out on the front lines doing God’s work.
Her home is a well-oiled machine because she is a well-oiled machine.
She’s a swan.
But I’m not a swan, y’all. I’m a chicken. And I’m really great at tending to my little chick and doing what needs to be done, but I don’t do it beautifully. Or in an organized fashion. I couldn’t care less if the laundry is piled up to heaven as long as my son and I got in a dance break that day.
So my husband helps me a lot with organizational structures and has even hired help to come in and clean for me every couple of weeks.
I once heard someone say quite snidely of a similar arrangement: “Oh. It’s like he’s your helpmeet.”
Proverbs 31 fail.