I love my husband. I do. And I have no feminist sorts of issues with division of labor. Larry keeps our family financially stable and the pine needles out of our gutters. He changes the oil in the car and builds a wood rack. He takes care of the mouse trap and the leaky faucet. I make sure we all have clean socks and can find a salad fork. I shop and I cook. I volunteer and chauffeur. He hires out pool maintenance and I hire out the cleaning of our four bathrooms. Everything gets done and we have a functioning household, generally speaking.
But then comes the Sabbath. As much as it should be a day of rest, that rarely happens before about 2pm. The problem actually begins on Saturday (which, as #3 used to sing, is a special day UNTIL we get ready for Sunday) when I decide I'd rather finish laundry or watch TV with Larry or mop the floor than do the ironing. Getting the ironing done before the Sabbath is a weekly goal. It is weekly left unaccomplished. Weekly I iron one large white shirt and one little kid white shirt on Sunday morning.
Why does that affect my feelings for my husband? Larry's health varies between not great and really awful. Sundays are especially hard on him. For three hours he can't lay down or eat a snack. For one hour he is standing and teaching Gospel Doctrine, or adult Sunday School. Occasionally he also either has a talk in Sacrament Meeting or a Priesthood lesson to teach, so make that two hours of standing. He is also the Branch Mission Leader, which means another hour of meetings every Sunday but the 1st and 5th, although those are not always attended. To save on energy Larry sleeps until about 17 minutes before he needs to walk out of the door, at which point he showers, dresses in a freshly ironed white shirt, grabs a bite of breakfast and leaves. Makes sense.
I, on the other hand, enjoy very good health, excepting this obnoxious nerve problem which I am currently working to get rid of. Sundays are not much worse on me than any busy day. I lead the music in Sacrament Meeting, and occasionally speak. Every third month I spend second hour doing Sharing Time and Music Time in Primary. The other two months, I am a lousy pianist. Third hour I teach Sunbeam class to an almost-4-year-old only child who speaks very little English, but likes me best, so I've taken it on. As Primary President I have only one early morning meeting a month.
Sunday mornings I get myself ready, monitor and try to hurry along the progress of three girls, and finally do their hair. I get a shower going for #4 and help him wash his hair. Thankfully, #2 often helps him dress in HIS freshly ironed white shirt, and he now ties his own shoes. I make sure my Sunday things are together, and that 4 kids also have theirs ready to go. And, oh yes, I iron those shirts.
While I ironing, I fill with uncharitable thoughts which sometimes spill into verbal murmurings. "I am getting 5 people out of the door and HE is only getting one. NO--I am getting 5 1/2 people out the door--he's not even ironing his shirt!" So don't iron it, you may advise. If I didn't, Larry wouldn't, which would be unacceptable to, well, me. Ironically I rarely feel worse about Larry than I do on those Sabbath mornings. Mornings I am supposed to be reconciling with the Lord, trying to make my weekly fresh start at the Sacrament tray. Makes no sense.
Who is the eff I?
9 years ago
1 fishy comments:
About a year ago, I started sending everything that needs to be ironed to the dry cleaners. Perhaps not *the* most economical solution, but we don't wear *all* that many clothes the require ironing, and it's quite probably my most-abhorred household task. So, I have, as you said, "hired it out," to save my sanity. Each of the guys has about 5-6 dress shirts, so if I only get to the cleaners once/month, so be it.
But I hate the Sunday morning craziness. This is why I am one of those nutjobs that actually PREFERS a 1 PM ward (over my most-dreaded time of 9 AM, that everyone ELSE in the world seems to love), LOL.
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