April 19, 2008
To some this word might have primarily positive connotations, but in NYC it tends to make people shudder and look off to the left in an effort to avoid the possibility of an uncomfortable conversation. Sorry for the gross generalization but come on, NYC is anything but domestic. At least not in the traditional sense of the word. And don't get me wrong, I actually revel in the domesticness'less of the city and the creative ways we seem to find to get around appearing to be domestic, but nonetheless...
So earlier this evening after a dreamlike day of 80 degree sunny April weather and a stop or two at our favorite local vineyards and the discovery of a fantastic new cafe my husband looks at me and says, "we're so domestic!" I could've kicked him. What a buzz kill! I reluctantly inquired why and am now wishing I would have just kept my mouth shut. He turns to me and says, "new car in the driveway, a pre-2000 Subaru (a requirement if you want any street cred in this area) and the wife cooking dinner while I assemble our new highchair for our first child". OK, less of a buzz kill but I was still annoyed. Domestic? Me? No no no, you've got it all wrong - I'm still the career and passion driven spontaneous woman you married 7 years ago...and, um, OK...I get it.
The next thing I remember I was on the phone with my sister (Wonder Mom to 3 of the cutest kids on Earth) begging her to make a trip to NY to help me prepare our home for our child. Literally begging. I now admit, I want to be domestic. I just might be lacking in some of the areas that would win me the title right now. So thank the Gods for sisters, the internet, and most of all our local wine guy who set us up with a delicious cabernet sauvignon for tonight's meal on the grill.
Domestic. Yeah, OK, I can live with that.