I'm tryin' to up my game in my marriage, people. You know, really keep the hubs happy.
Heck, I may even shave my legs tonight and let him know I really mean business.
He's been working tirelessly in the classroom and comes home exhausted. Yet there are still lessons to be planned….and papers to grade….and emails to write…and scores to enter. The work, it seems, never ends for him. But he is joyful in it – thankful to be doing what he loves to do.
So I've been making an extra effort to be gracious and loving towards him.
I've been doing something I swore I would never do.
Not that I was against doing it…
After all, caring for him, our babies, and our home is my job.
But I just always felt that I didn't have room to squeeze it into the schedule…you know, around blogging and other super important things like that.
Yet, here I am. I've reached the point. I've committed myself to his care.
I'm ironing his clothes.
*Gasp*
I know. I know.
Some of you may be shouting: What a terrible wife you have been for all these years?! Have you just been letting the most important man in your life walk around in wrinkly clothes?!
The rest of you may be shouting: Make him iron his own! What about female independence?! Burn your bra!
I'd like to think I fall somewhere in the middle.
Stuart has been perfectly happy to throw his dress clothes in the dryer to release the wrinkles…and thus far, I've been more than happy to let him. But as he dressed for work a few weeks ago, I noticed his shirt was inappropriately wrinkly (at least for a professional setting). He's thrown it in the dryer…but it didn't really work.
He went off to teach anyway….wrinkly shirt and all.
I knew I'd reached the line. The line that I'd been thinking about crossing for some time, really.
I couldn't let him do it anymore.
And it's not that I'm worried about what the world thinks of him and his clothes – but it is my job to care for him. To love on him. To make him feel extra special. And ironing his clothes is a small way for me to show him that I've got his back. And his collar. And his pants.
So I've been sacrificing (whoa is me) an hour per week to completely focusing on preparing his clothes for the upcoming week. I set up a show on the iPad after Georgia has fallen asleep for the night and gently begin the methodical practice of ironing – folding, creasing, smoothing.
And truthfully, I think I've been enjoying it more than he does. Seeing all those crisp shirts and pants lined up in a row in his closet makes me feel pretty dang happy.
Knowing that he's cared for.
Knowing that he's been shown love.
It may be a strange way to show my affection, but I know he appreciates it.
And for my man, I'd be willing to iron shirts until the cows come home.
Figuretively speaking, of course.
Because if we actually had cows on our home, I'd probably be out milking them at night instead of ironing shirts.
I'm just sayin'.
Teresa Messick
LOL! I don’t iron either and we have been married almost 22 years! It started when we were newly-weds and I was dutifully ironing his dress shirts for Church when one morning he said, “you don’t know how to iron my shirts right”. At first I was so upset that I hadn’t made him happy. Then I was mad that he had the nerve to tell me I was doing it wrong. A wise woman told me that instead of being all mad & hurt and fussing at my new hubs, I should let him iron his own shirts for awhile, then he might learn to appreciate. So I did and 22 years later I think I have ironed his shirts a total of 5 times. Now don’t get the vision of him standing at the ironing board while I blog…he doesn’t iron anymore either! Wrinkle-Free Oxford shirts from JCPenney baby!
Kudos for going the extra mile for your man–might inspire me to go iron a couple shirts before I leave for work this morning…you know, after the important stuff like blogging! 😉
Courtney @ The Polivka Family
We prefer the dryer method in this house. 😉 When we were dating, I used to go over to his house and iron his shirts while he was at work, as a surprise. I ironed a few times once we married. Then he told me not to bother because he just didn’t care. At this moment, there are two pairs of my shorts and a dress that need to be ironed. They’ll probably keep sitting there for a while….hmmm….just sayin’
Michelle
lol I don’t iron, except for really essential things.
BretnMelanie
If I’m honest, I’m kind of bummed that all of Bret’s shirts are wrinkle-free/non-iron. I used to love when it was my turn to iron my dad’s shirts for the week. Like you said, there’s just something very satisfying about crisp shirts and pants, whether there hanging all in a row or on your handsome man. :-). -M
calendula grower
I think what you are doing is great! I’m thinking maybe I should dust the old iron off myself.
Noël
I despise ironing. In fact, I puposely don’t buy clothes that have to be ironed. Thankfully, my hubby is a general contractor so I don’t have to iron his work clothes. 😉
Shawnee's Girl
My hubby is military. He likes all of his uniforms ironed in a certain way. I used to try, but we have COMPLETELY different goals in ironing. He wants a crease in a certain place and doesn’t care if there are creases made in getting that one crease, and I don’t want creases at ALL. We now just accept that we are going to iron our own clothes or accept how the other one irons. Since we don’t do to much of it anymore, he pulls his uniforms out of the dryer early and I don’t wear things that need to be ironed, it isn’t a big deal. And as a feminist, doing something nice for someone because you want to, does NOT take away your female independence, also, I really wouldn’t want to burn my bra, the give way too much support for that kind of shenanigan.
Sharen Wilde
I actually love ironing. I don’t regard it as a chore. It’s a good thing because I only wear natural fabrics that aren’t wrinkle free after being laundered
Two reasons I love it:
1, The sense of accomplishment I feel from taking a mess of wrinkled cloth and transforming it into smooth, neat clothing
2. It is a quiet, repetitive activity that frees my mind to meditate. I feel quite peaceful when I’m finished