I Thought I Just Finished That!!!

Reach! Higher! Bend and stretch; further! Side step, two step, ball, slide, ball! Plea, en pointe, glissade, and spin! Heft and lift and shove and pull. What would you guess; Pilates, Yoga, Ballet? Nope!

Never ending, always there, for-the-love-of-Mike, housework!!!!

I remember a conversation, half in jest, but with some serious tone to it between Mom and Dad. He was pre-retirement so maybe 60-63. She being four years younger was 56-59. Don't think I am discounting the hard life they both shared nor the good things Dad did. Mom never worked outside the home and even in the modern era of the late 50's when this conversation took place housework was manual labor with a capital M and L. Anyway, they were discussing the fact that it would be nice to return to farm living. We siblings were listening and enjoying the conversation. Dad finally said he would maybe look into a small farm near where we lived for retirement. I think it was my sister, Dot, who dared to ask how he thought he could handle the heavy work. His reply? "Well, Mom's still pretty fit, she could do it!" I think everyone but Mom laughed.

Today, we have things to make housework easy. Easy by comparison to laundry by hand or with a wringer washer (look it up if you don't remember it), dryers vs. clotheslines, vacuums vs. brooms, Swifter Mops vs. bucket and string mop. You get the picture. I don't know about you, but Mary Poppins never shows up here so the sheets and blankets pop off the bead and head for the laundry. Nor, I'll tell ya true, do clean ones fly from nowhere to land snug and smooth on the bed. That chore is still done with grunt work. It is a ponder for me that the shortest person in the family with the shortest wing span is the only one who can fold just-washed King-sized sheets without dragging them on the floor!

While the vacuum does a lovely job on carpets and gets the cobwebs and Dave vacuums for special occasions, it does not do well on bare floors except for a quick fix. I have a little kitchen vac that is lovely for the messes I make on the floor while cooking or baking and if it breaks I'll sacrifice shampoo to replace the kitchen vac. A clean kitchen floor is still really only achieved by a broom or dust-mop first and then a good old fashioned sponge mop next. Even better for real clean is if one can still at least quarterly get down on hands and knees with a good scrub brush for the tight places.

Dusting sounds easy and there are cute little handle things with changeable fluffy items that get the dust. Really? There are places where only a conscientious dance macabre can clean the dust and leave surfaces shining. Reach, balance, en pointe, bend. Nothing in the modern idea of dusting leaves everything clean, shining, and fresh like a rag with furniture polish. Knick-knacks and bric-a-brac still have to be hand washed to bring back the brightness.

Rugs are now called carpets and don't have to be hung on a line and beaten with what looks like something Jack would have found at the top of the beanstalk to whip the giant's eggs (ostrich sized, of course). But scatter rugs suck into a vacuum and, by consequence, must be shaken vigorously. I still hang mine on a deck railing to air in the sunshine a bit.

Loading the dishwasher can be hard on the back. A pile of plates going into the cupboard can be heavy (clean and jerk 101). Some of my heaviest cooking utensils are in the bottom of the cupboards because that's where they fit. (Use your knees, not your back.) Much of housework takes flexibility in arms and shoulders. If something is hurting, the chore is harder.

I'm not whining nor complaining. I'm just saying don't sell short the person that keeps the house tidy and the home looking like a home. In many homes today, that is not necessarily Mom. Dad's are sometimes the stay-at-home grunt. (Some are not appreciated for folding the laundry because it's not the same way the other would do it.) Some of our younger set have learned to share the duties -- most seem to think that is only for housework and the sharing is not equal concerning the yard work. If both are working away from home, it should all be shared.

I approve of Dad spending more time with his kids. Both parent and child benefits. I like watching men interact with their kids in ways the men never connected when I was young. Dave would take his turns with our kids, did his share of feeding and diaper changing. He put a lot of energy in trying to
be a good Dad. Recently I've noticed more and more that Dad is the one with a baby (in arms, in tummy or back pack) and a toddler or two and the diaper bag while Mom strolls along looking unconcerned and unruffled like Dads used to look. What? She can't even carry the diaper bag? More and more it is not Mom who leaves the Sunday Service, but Dad, with a wiggly tot. Seems like the stress hasn't been equaled out but completely shifted to the other sex.

God gave us work to do even before the fall. He planned that we would be busy and profit from our labor. He arranged that both sexes had abilities and strengths for certain things and that we could be a help to each other in the hard stretches. He never planned that we should squabble over who's efforts gain more. Teamwork was a plan. Delight in accomplishment after a task well done is a reward. My friend Patrick wrote a book on work and attitude toward work that pointed out God's desire for us to enjoy our work. Wake in the morning and do what it takes plus more to provide for need, go to sleep and sleep from being tired and satisfied with the day.

Do I ever have control of my attitude toward my work? Once in a while, I get it right. Do I ever sin in my frustration because I am the only one in a group who is still working while the rest are sitting by? Oh, my stars! Yes.

Why this post you may be wondering? Because I needed to put down some words to stop feeling hard-used because housework is never, I repeat, never finished. Empty the dishwasher and fill it right back up. Make the bed and delight in the smooth covers and the "foo-foo pillows" on it; one night's tossing and turning will cause it to look slightly "used" until the next time fresh sheets are put on. Laundry. I no longer follow Mom's strict "wash on Monday, Iron on Tuesday, Clean on Wednesday, Bake on Thursday, Tidy on Friday for possible guests on Saturday, Entertain on Saturday, and Church on Sunday". However, I rarely finish laundry without having something pulled off a hanger or out of a folded pile before the last piece of laundry is put away. Fig leaves might have been the answer -- pick a new one every morning, the old ones would decay.