A Woman's Work is Never Done

Years ago I read an article about work. The theme was how important it is to take pride in one’s work. To take pride in a job well done was cited as the most crucial aspect of job satisfaction. The article ended by saying a woman’s work is never done, therefore, how does she feel pride or satisfaction in her work? I was a stay-at-home mom at that time and the article really struck a chord with me. I knew exactly what the author of that piece was referring to; I was living it. With two young children at home – the laundry was never done, even if I spent all day washing, there was always one more load. The house was never clean, even if I spent all day cleaning, there were always more toys to put away or little fingerprints to be washed off of something. At that time I naively reminded myself that one day the children would be grown and gone and I would have a clean house – so I enjoyed the kids, ignored the mess, and took pride in being a mother, not in being a “housewife.”

Now, that once far off day of no children at home is here and I am left wondering where is the clean house of the future I imagined? There is still another load of laundry, still another sink full of dishes, and the small fingerprints have been replaced with dogs’ nose prints and dog hair. Alas, a woman’s work is truly never done. I take no pride in that.

About the Hall Closet

Oh, the hall closet; the hall closet I (sort of) began cleaning weeks ago. The very same hall closet that tries to reach out and grab me as I walk past. The closet that whispers to me when I am trying to go to sleep, “Clean me.” The closet I am doing my damnedest to ignore.

It is spring in my town; spring in my town usually only lasts for about four days. I am trying to enjoy it while I can. So, if anyone out there in blog-land is sitting around waiting for me to write about cleaning out the hall closet – GO OUTSIDE! Go outside and enjoy the spring weather. When the mosquitoes come I will clean out the closet – until then I will be playing in the dirt and watching the dogs chase each other.

Thoughts on the Kitchen

My kitchen, my mother’s kitchen, Big Red’s kitchen, Gail’s kitchen, Susan’s kitchen, Carol’s kitchen, Debra’s kitchen, Carol Ann’s kitchen – all of the kitchens I have known (Aunt Margie’s kitchen, MaMa’s kitchen) are places where we congregate – no matter what. Even if the dens or the living rooms are well appointed – soft, cushy chairs and sofas; we still opt for the kitchen – even if we have to stand up or sit on less-than-comfortable chairs. What is it about a kitchen? Kitchens are the center of the home, the warmest place – the heart of the house. The kitchen is a place that evokes memories of other homes. I felt happy, loved, warm and safe in my mother’s kitchen and in my grandmothers’ kitchens ergo, I feel save in just about any kitchen I’ve ever been in.

My kitchen is adjacent to my family room with a breakfast bar looking into the kitchen. Whenever we have friends or family over they congregate in the kitchen. Three people can sit at the bar, but it isn’t out of the ordinary to have seven or eight or sometimes more standing in the kitchen – leaning against the countertop. On Christmas, or any time I have a big family dinner, it is difficult to get the food out because there is so much traffic in the kitchen. But it is great fun and a great complement; I love that people are so comfortable in my kitchen. It makes me happy to think that my friends and family feel happy, loved, warm and safe in my kitchen. So bring on the crowds – I will gladly scoot between my uncles while carrying a hot casserole or ask my daughter’s father-in-law to move over so I can grab more forks from the silverware drawer. It is all part of the “hostess dance” in my kitchen.

Daughter Stuff

Both of my daughters spent the weekend with me for Mother’s Day. It was the best Mother’s Day I could imagine – just hanging out with them. We seem to laugh a lot when we are together. I am so proud of the beautiful women I have had a hand in creating – thank you for a wonderful Mother’s Day and thank you for making me a mother. Love, Mom

The Faithful

Spring is the time of year that brings out the faithful. I am not talking about the lapsed Christians who return to church on Easter Sunday. I am referring to gardeners; those optimistic souls who put their faith in a tiny seed. They spend hours and dollars preparing their garden beds and purchasing seeds and bedding plants. I know this first hand - I am one of the faithful. Two weeks ago I planted green bean seeds and cucumber seeds in my backyard garden. I “cast my shadow” (to quote Farmer Roy, my garden mentor) every morning eagerly eyeing the planted bed for signs of life. The thrill upon seeing the tiny bit of green breaking through the crusty soil is enough to make anyone a believer. From the first sighting of green, things progress quickly – big leaves have unfurled from my green bean seeds and my cucumbers have multiple leaves. Soon they will flower and product fruit; all because of a little seed and a little faith.

Garden Exhaustion

Major work underway in the garden. Too tired to blog. More on this later.

My House is Better Than a Thrift Store (and cheaper, too)

Yesterday afternoon I got a phone call from Daughter #2 informing me she was on her way over with a friend to go through our closets in search of something to wear to a costume party. They had searched all of the second-hand thrift stores to no avail. I am happy to report they left here with outfits.