Mountain View Mommy: Sand, Trucks and Testosterone

March 9, 2007

It’s starting…

Filed under: Stuff — by mvmommy @ 5:21 am

I had always heard the phrase, ‘I am becoming my mother,’ and laughed. I laughed at what I thought it meant, without really understanding it’s full potential.

Until today.

I am becoming, my mother, my grandmother, and my mother-in-law. All rolled into one. WOW, now that is really saying something.

I hate to iron. When I say I hate it. I really mean it. I would rather let it pile up forever and then buy new clothes, than to iron. Luckily I married a man who doesn’t mind… and that is how we got through our first years of marriage. He ironed.

My mother used to iron all my father’s shirts. All his pants. All our clothes. She did not like wrinkles. She wasn’t obsessive. But it was very apparent that we were not to leave the house wearing a shirt that wasn’t ironed. When I became a stay at home mother… I thought, this is the time I need to bring my ‘A’ game to the table. So I started ironing. I still hated it. But I did it, occasionally. The piles still happened. But eventually I knew that since I was home & had some time on my hands, I should probably take care of that. So I would stare it down & get started.

My mother-in-law years ago talked about this iron that she HAD to have. It’s the Rowenta – and it’s over $100 for a stinkin’ iron. Obviously, I thought it was ridiculous. I even told her so. Who loves an iron that much? But she swore by it. She insisted that it made ironing faster. She even bought one for each of her girls as a gift. Still, I thought it was loony.. and went along unhappily ironing with my Target $19.99 iron that I bought in college.

When I had my second child, my grandmother came once a week to help me get adjusted. She would play with Andrew, while I tended to Justin. When Andrew would sleep… she would graciously iron Nathan’s shirts. She said it was because she knew I hated it & that she wanted to help. I think it’s because she is secretly in-love with him and can’t believe how badly I treat him by not ironing his shirts immediately as they come off his body. I think you would agree with me if you heard how much she gushes over how hard he works, and how nice he looks when he’s dressed up in his nicely ironed clothes. In any case, her gesture earned her major points in my book.

Every now & then, when I wasn’t running around with Justin.. I caught a glimpse of her ironing style. I am not joking when I say that it is flawless. She can take up to 15 minutes on one shirt. And if she doesn’t like it when it hangs on the hanger… she will do it again. She will iron the pockets from the inside, so that they will lay straight, when she irons the outside of a pair of pants. She often will even steam the pants or shirt when it’s on the hanger… just to be sure it’s straight. She irons jeans, t-shirts, undershirts, and even my husband’s underwear if I didn’t forcibly remove them from her. It makes me crazy to watch her. I just want to go over there and run that iron up & down whatever she is ironing, and move to the next thing in the pile. Admittedly, the clothes look amazing when she is done…. but I still think she’s nuts.

So that leads me to today. My children are asleep. My husband has a pile of clothes to be ironed from his recent trip abroad. I am compelled to iron. Why is this? Because of my mother.

I go to get my iron from the closet, I pull out the God of all irons: the Rowenta. Why is this? Because my mother-in-law.

I am now ironing Nathan’s new pants that we bought for his birthday. I want them to look perfect the first time he wears them. So what do I do? I turn them inside out & iron the pockets first. Why is this? Because of my grandmother.

I am becoming them. Oh god. I am becoming them. Please don’t make me start liking to fold the clothes too… because I swear I am holding out on that one.


1 Comment »

  1. I wanted to hear about the expensive one – does it make martinis? I hate it too, and suck at it – my mom used to watch me struggle and then just do it for me. Our solution, dry clean the few shirts I have that must be ironed, wear wrinkled pants, and hubby becomes a soccer coach 🙂

    Comment by Nicole — March 9, 2007 @ 9:45 am |Reply

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