We’re all heard radio and TV programs in which audience members get chosen to do something—play a game, take a quiz, ask a question of a guest, whatever.  Invariably, the host will ask, “And what do you do?”  Often, women will answer, “I’m a full-time wife and mother,” an answer I find very peculiar.

I, for one, don’t recall being given the option of full-time or part-time wifehood.  I thought all wives were full-time wives.  Did I miss something?  Was there a line I should have filled out on the application for the marriage license?  Some box I should have checked?  A form PTW1998b I should have requested and filled out in triplicate?  And especially, is it too late to apply for part-time status now that I’m already married?  Because on occasion, it would be nice to have the freedom to say, “Sorry, hon, but I’m off-duty.” 

Sometimes, I dream about what it would be like to be a part-time wife.  My husband K— would ask, “What’s for dinner tonight?” and I’d be able to answer, “Sorry, sweetie.  The requisition form is still in my In Box, but it was a busy day and it’s nearly quitting time.  I promise I’ll get to it first thing in the morning.”  And if he ever commented about something around the house that wasn’t done, I’d say, “Look, I’m off now.  Can we discuss this during work hours?  Preferably in the presence of a shop steward?”

Wedding vows would need some updating.  The new ones would read something like this: “I promise to love and honor, through sickness and in health, blah, blah, blah, from 8 to 1, Monday through Friday and every other Saturday excepting two weeks vacation and 5 sick days per year.  But otherwise, I’m right there for ya’.”

Part-time wifehood even casts polygamy in a new light.  I always used to explain it away as a male power thing, but maybe women originated polygamy in an effort to cut down on their hours without affecting their pay or their pensions.

I did an Internet search for “part-time wife” and I came up with no less than four films and one book by that name as well as an episode of the original The Dick Van Dyke Show from 1964.  One of the films was an obscure 1975 release that used the advertising slogan “She’s too much woman for any one man!”  Another one was marketed with this phrase: “Bad women don’t go to hell…that’s where they come from!”

I can only assume neither film was about the economics of marriage, and that’s a pity, because approaching wifehood as an occupation gives rise to all sorts of interesting questions.  For instance, if money got a little tight and I needed a second job to make ends meet, could I get another part-time wife gig to earn extra cash?  How exactly would I get paid?  Would the government allow me to file taxes jointly with two different men?  And if I could hash all of this out, could I become a professional part-time wife, taking on as many jobs as I could juggle?

On the other hand, I can see a whole host of problems arising from part-time wife status.  For one thing, I’d probably have to punch a clock, and knowing K—, he’d scrutinize my hours weekly.  “Taking some long lunches, I see,” he’d say accusatorially.  Of course, as a boss he couldn’t become too much of a jerk because a) firing me would involve more than just an exit interview, to put it mildly, and b) if he did I’d just hang one of those “Back at…” clocks on the bedroom door and set the hands to 9:00 am.

An even stickier question is this: Is it okay for a man to engage in little peccadilloes during his wife’s off hours?  And if your husband decides to get someone else to fill in when you’re unavailable, can you really blame him?  The courts would have to sort this one out.

What the women who call themselves “full-time wives” really mean is that they’re full-time housewives—something completely different.  That’s why you almost never hear men saying, “I’m a full-time husband and father.”  If they did, someone might start expecting them to actually spend 40 hours a week performing those functions.  Guys are smart that way, and I’ve learned from them.  I’m a full-time wife, but I don’t go around talking about it because that can’t lead to anything good.

Comedian and bachelor Bill Maher does a great stand-up joke about married men.  Women, he claims, are always telling him that married men live longer.  Housecats, he counters, also live longer than their less domesticated counterparts.  They’re pathetic balls of fluff with a broken spirit, he points out, but technically, yes, they do live longer.

Perhaps part-time spousehood would overcome his objections. When things got too tough, he could just pull out his time card, put himself down for a personal day, and disappear.  Even the happiest married people could benefit from one of those now and then.