Mondays are laundry days here at our house. Tuesdays are ironing days unless laundry day exceeds into Tuesday… then Wednesdays are ironing days.
I love ironing day.
I didn’t always love ironing. It is the most incredibly boring, tedious task in the world. There is a proper way to iron. My mom tried several times to teach me the correct way. Once again, not being a fan of proper ways or following rules I devised my own unique style of ironing. Martha Stewart would not approve.
I for one do not care if the creases in my husband’s pants are crisp and perfect. I do not care if every ruffle on my daughter’s dress is wrinkle-free. I get the majority of the wrinkles out and go on with my day!
When I was pregnant with my three kids, my mom would stop by the house occasionally to see if there was anything to help with. I think I said, “No” but would then mutter something along the lines of “I don’t care if this whole house comes crumbling down.”
My mom would delightfully grab the overflowing ironing basket and begin humming, ironing away and rejoicing in the fact she finally got ahold of those pants to put the creases back in their place.
Nowadays, the ironing basket is never overflowing. My best ideas come to me when I’m ironing. It’s a task that requires no thought and leaves my mind open to wander and ponder. If I were to just sit down and close my eyes nothing would pop in my head. I guess I require doing something with my hands and it has to be the most boring activity to really get my juices flowing!
A few months ago we were in the market for a new washing machine and dryer. The salesman showed us the top of the line model claiming you never have to iron again….the dryer takes care of it for you. He said, “See these pants, I pulled them out of the dryer this morning and just threw them on and came to work.” I may not have “Martha Stewart” expectations but my qualification for being ironed and his were completely different. Not only did he not have creases but there were wrinkles everywhere and the cuffs were really messed up! In defense of “high-end” dryers, this guy had blood-shot eyes, smelled weird, and had serious bed head. I think he was actually still half asleep and forgot he actually pulled these pants from underneath a couch cushion and not “straight from the dryer.”
I smiled and told him, “We’ll take the middle of the line option…I like to iron.”
My source of inspiration
Motherhood Is An Art 