Part Two – Settling In
It wasn’t long before, somehow, I too got swept along in the crystal clear current of suburban living. Two maids to clean the house, three lawn men to manicure our grounds, a nanny two mornings a week, an on-call handy man to fix everything from a broken sprinkler head to stuccoing my detached garage, someone to spray for mosquitos, another to kill my spiders.
Of course I would always try to justify the “help”. My husband traveled a lot. I was pregnant. I had a toddler. It was cheap labor. I still felt guilty. And bored. And very Southern WASPY.
Naturally, to cope with my new-found suburban woman’s guilt, I took to online shopping to take the edge off. I discovered Amazon Prime for the first time in my life and I couldn’t be more thrilled. I had literally everything from diapers to coffee beans delivered to my doorstep.
In no time, the mailman and I were on a first name basis. I knew about his wife, his new baby boy, I bought him gift cards for Christmas.
It didn’t take long before my son started asking me over breakfast what the mailman was bringing today. I would look up from my homemade cappuccino made with Italian coffee beans I had sourced online and smile in anticipation.
I only started to grow concerned when one afternoon, Archie threw his sippy cup on the floor. I asked him to to pick it up and he looked up at me and very innocently replied, “Sabina will pick it up”. Between my complete shock and horror, I think I shot back with, “Will Sabina pick your ass up off the floor once I’m done whooping it?”…or something to that effect.
Cracks were starting to show through this charmed life like the fractures in my plaster walls caused by the train vibrations…which I repeatedly patched to no avail.
Caring for my children was a full-time job that left me happily exhausted by
six four pm every night, but I needed something else. I needed something that would fill my cup and leave me feeling interesting again. For the first time in my life, I had never felt so boring. In an attempt to stimulate my mind and change something other than diapers, I enrolled in a program at the local museum to train to become a docent.
I loved it. I was invigorated. I was learning about art and contributing to my community. It was only a few days out of the week, but I met the most amazing, interesting people, and my kids got a little break from me. And what better way for an educated housewife to spend that hard earned education than donating her talents to a good cause? I happily ignored the fact that I was becoming such a cliche.
The San Antonio Museum of Art
Overall, I couldn’t complain. My life was beautifully full. In those three years, we traveled quite a bit, spent summers in San Francisco, hosted dinner parties, and cultivated relationships with our neighbors and friends.
Life was pretty…