I grew up under the tutelage of a 1940’s housewife. Now, I’m not certain that the era really had any influence, but I have read that this was the age of the home-maker wars. A married women’s status in the neighborhood was determined by how white the sheets were that hung on the line to dry. Dust bunnies didn’t live long enough to spawn. Underwear was ironed and starched and believe it or not, mom and dad sat down at a kitchen table to eat dinner with the kids.
I was born during this post-war age of Clorox and Mr. Clean and to that age and my dear mom (now deceased), I owe many idiosyncrasies that my husband will never quite understand. Yesterday, for instance, I thought I’d lose an arm, fighting with a pair of jeans in an overstuffed (but neatly folded) drawer. The leg of the jeans had been pushed beyond the back edges of the drawer and prevented the drawer from closing completely, nor the one above it! Picture: on hands and knees, drawer open just far enough to reach the offending leg with one arm bent in a very unnatural figure ‘S’. What does this have to do with my story you ask? Idiosyncrasy 1: All drawers must be closed after use, contents nowhere in sight.
How often have I reminded my kids to stick the stuff back in the drawer.
Idiosyncrasy 2: Last weekend, I decided to put up Christmas decorations. Doesn’t everyone know, that dollar store plastic candles require spotless windows. Every window in the house was washed and polished so the little 5 watt night-lite bulbs could shine through. Dear departed Mom was behind me all the way, whispering that vinegar and newspaper worked better than Windex and pointing out the streaks. Oh, and this clean window rule applies when hanging newly washed, ironed, and starched curtains too. Though curtains are now a thing of the past, iron you say? Has anyone under the age of twenty ever bought spray-starch?
I got up late this morning. Late is my own standard. I’m retired and had nothing planned for today anyway. No job to get to or class I couldn’t miss. But 6:25AM is late, no matter. Which brings me to the bed. My bed gets made when I arise. The sheets get tightened bottom and top. The blanket gets straightened making sure the sides hang evenly and the bedspread pulled up and tucked neatly under the pillows. Mom was funny. When the new fitted sheets came out in the 60’s or so she wasn’t having them. Square military corners on the bottom sheet were just fine, besides, folding a fitted sheet neatly to stack in the linen closet was impossible. I have caved in to the modern invention of corners made for me but I still make my bed. If I miss making my bed, the rest of the day is always disheveled, too. That was idiosyncrasy number 3.
It would be interesting to see how many of you practice these rules and your approximate age. Bed those who do are over
I was never a housewife/homemaker. I was born in 1980 and my mom was home for most of my childhood – cleaning, cooking, ironing (!!!). As a teenager she went to work, but our house didn’t lack at all. I grew up wanting to work my way to being a VP of a company and making LOTS of money – and really, I was on my way in that career path. But then something changed inside me. I found the Lord and He changed my heart. We had a “surprise!” pregnancy and I suddenly wanted to leave work and stay home with our 3 older kids and our new baby. Now? Now I LOVE the art of homemaking! I’m learning it and am HORRIBLE at it (I still need to buy an iron and board!), but I love this journey I am on. I thank God for opening my heart to being able to provide a home for my family. It’s definitely hard on the budget with just one income – but I know the Lord wants me home, so He will help us through it. I just found your blog and this was the first post I read. I look forward to reading other posts and learning more about you!
Thanks and God bless!
Yasmin
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