husband

Housewife

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I was reading back through some of my old journals recently.  There is a pattern of trying to work out how to get things lined out like I want them.  Things like how the house is arranged or a schedule to keep up with the chores.  I recall when the children were small and we lived in California.  Our house there was sparsely furnished.  We didn’t have much stuff in the way of toys, books, clothes, dishes, tools, etc. 

Over the course of a lifetime, we have accumulated a lot of things.  I drag home junk from the thrift stores, book sales or Walmart.  He drags home stuff from the feed store or cattle auction or someplace.  Our parents and grandparents and others are gone and we absorbed some things from their lives.  It adds up over time.  A little here and a little there.  Before I know it, I’ve got too much. 

Periodically, I go through things and pile stuff in the jeep and haul it to the charity shop.  Some things end up in my daughter’s prop room and costume closet in her theater class.  We have bingo at church and at a ladies’ retreat for which I donate prizes.  I am not above re-gifting something if it doesn’t work out for me and I know the recipient would love it. 

There is that age old rule: a place for everything and everything in its place.  I sometimes watch the shows with the hoarders.  I used to watch the one with the team that would come in and clean up and organize things for people who weren’t actually hoarders, just overloaded and overwhelmed.

I have to walk through my house and remind myself that what I do have stored isn’t really all that much.  I don’t have a basement or garage or even a shed for storage.  I have very little in boxes aside from three or four medium size tubs of Christmas decorations.  I must confess a few too many toys for certain little girls.  And far too many dishes and pots and pans and books.  (No comment needed on this subject from Rock!)

I still dream of the days when we first moved in to the house at Campers Cove and when we lived on Monterey Bay.  Maybe it’s not so much the place, but the time.  Our children were little and growing into the fine adults they have become.  Maybe it’s the little boy and the little girl who used to fill those houses that I miss.

I knew then these days would come. I tried to slow down time.  To hold them in my arms a little longer.  But, the sands of time are steady and sure.  They made their way into the world and have created their own little ones to love. 

If I had some advice to give younger wives and mothers, it would be to keep it simple.  Eat on paper plates all week if it’s going to be one of those.  Don’t try to have everything perfect all at one time.  Give things a lick and a promise and let it go.  I finally figured out that no one was going to come inspect my house or feature it in a magazine.  I guess the equivalent now is that no one is going to post pictures of my house on Instagram unless it’s me.  And only I can see the pile of clothes on the bed that I didn’t fold yesterday behind me while I photograph this staged set for the world to see.

One praise for my Rock among many.  Back when the children were home, he would often have to find his clean socks in the laundry basket of clothes waiting to be folded and put away.  He never complained.  They were clean and he was okay with that.  More modern women will howl why didn’t he fold and put away the clothes.  I have always had an easier job and shorter work hours and an easy commute. It’s the way we want things.  I also take out my own trash.  I tease him that he doesn’t even know where the kitchen is.  Perspective, attitude, expectations.   

One of my favorite subjects to read and study about is housekeeping.  The craft of it.  The history of it.  The lore and mysteries of it.  The oldest profession is not what most claim.  Eve was the first one to build a fire and create a hearth for the men to come home to.  I am one of the most ancient of sisterhoods when I claim my title of house wife or homemaker.  I spent 27 years splitting my time and energy with a 9 to 5.  Many of those years, there were children at home and ailing parents to care for.  My job outside my home was never more than a job for me.  I had no special training or degree or career to follow out there.  My career is and has always been that of home keeper. House wife.  Rock’s house wife. 

How do I want my days to feel?  When I lay down at night, I want to be sure I haven’t let frustrations over temporal things get in the way of eternal things.  Yet, I often do.  Even now. Retired. Too much time on my hands most days.  I still get off track, distracted by things that aren’t in line with my expectations for my days. At the end of the day, did I do what was needed to take care of him.  Did he have a good supper?  Does he have clean clothes for tomorrow?  Did I take care of the household business for the day? 

What is needful?  Nutritious food, something to drink, a comfortable bed, clean clothes to wear, a warm shower. Love and cheerful companionship, affection and attention.  If a home has that, whether two people, one person and a critter, or a whole passle of folks, then that home has more than most of the rest of the world.  Rock and I are blessed.  Don’t know why us, but very grateful to the Lord for it. 

I’m sure I will keep rearranging furniture and sorting through things to get rid of one way or another.  I don’t think I will ever have things as simple as they were on Monterey Bay or even at Campers Cove. But, it’s a goal.  Something to strive for.  Everyone one needs something to work on and to feel some joy at accomplishment over.  For my simple heart, I have my housekeeping as a career.  This vocation along with a little dancing barefoot in the kitchen and passionate kisses and I am one very happy old gal!  Enough of this for today.  I’ve got some clothes to fold……………feeling some orchids raining.

Happy Birthday To Me!!

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I am 56 years old today.  My children called, of course, and asked me what I am doing today.  Cleaning house, naturally.  It is what I do.  For me cleaning house usually includes moving a piece of furniture or some pile of stuff I no longer want wherever it is piled. 

It’s a joke with my immediate family.  My older duchess fusses about my moving things around in the house.  Thoroughly encouraged by her Paw Paw.  She’s going to be fussing next time she comes even though I discussed some of my plans with her.  I moved our bed to another wall where I prefer it.  And in the green room I turned a bed a different direction and swapped two bookcases relocating the television that sits on top of one.

 I refer to the extra bedroom as the green room because it has a pretty moss green carpet.  I have two queen beds, a full-size iron bed and three large bookcases full of books situated around the room.  This is the room the girls and I sleep in when they come to visit.  We always watch television when we go to bed. The kitty cat movie was the only thing going for a long time.  That is Disney’s Aristocats. Recently, we’ve been watching the original Scooby Doo cartoons I have recorded.  This is why the moving of the television might be an issue.  She will likely make some comments about it and we will laugh at Granny always moving stuff.

Once upon a time, when I pulled the furniture out from the wall to clean behind it every few weeks, I would put the furniture back someplace different.  I would often just get up in the morning and without really planning, I would move things as I cleaned.  Large pieces of furniture. Like beds and dressers and sofas.  See the opening line of this post?  I don’t do that as often as I once did.  I guess that is one barometer of my aging body.  I am less likely to dig in to big projects.

Nevertheless, I did move a lot of furniture yesterday.  Pulling the books and “artifacts” as I call my collection of junk, was a big project.  I did get a chance to be reminded of some of the books I have accumulated and not taken the time to read. 

Another project I tackled over the past few weeks is relocating an old project.  I was in my twenties when I set some broken pieces of concrete from my great grandparent’s porch into an amateur patio.  I pulled out those pieces that were now in the middle of the cow lot and with his helpful tractor skills, we moved the blocks over here to the back of the porch.  I set in a new amateur patio as the first step toward a Houdash pond. Granny Sally always had a Houdash pond in her yard.  Wherever she lived, she put one in. Just a hole dug out and lined it with cement mixed in a wheelbarrow and spread by hand to make it hold water. That would then become the focal point for tropical plants and hold a few goldfish.  The goldfish did well if the pond was deep enough to discourage the fishing coons.  

I had one at our house at Camper’s Cove.  It was right outside the living room windows.  I dug it in August after dark one year.  There was a gutter that ran off the roof straight in to it and kept it flushed, filled and fresh.  Granny’s ponds were refilled with rainwater and a water hose, as needed.  My new one will be the same.

Why do I do all this?  Rearranging furniture, moving and situating my personal things, digging in the dirt, planting and tending things that grow.  Even sorting out and rearranging my clothes in the closet play a part.  Trying to satisfy the urge to create beauty and order from chaos.  To be simply creative. No matter how primitive my efforts.  I enjoy the process.  More times than not, I enjoy the product. 

He doesn’t seem to mind all my eccentricities.  He often offers to help with the big stuff and always helps when I ask for it.  I couldn’t do a lot of it without his support and wouldn’t without his approval.  I try to run things by him that will affect his movements.  Mostly, he just lets me go and do.  My projects are usually recycled materials and found objects.  If I can’t do 98% of the actual work myself, I skip it.  It’s the doing that counts and having what I’ve done my self. I don’t know any other woman that would be satisfied with my creations.  That’s okay.  I do it for me anyway. 

There is a new component to my work.  There are two duchesses who come to play here sometimes.  I recall how much I loved my grandmother’s tropical landscape.  I am trying to recreate one for myself and for them.  When they are older and see a banana tree or cannas blooming, they can recall summers playing in the shade of the bananas and ooing over the bright tropical blooms of the cannas.  And remember how much they are loved by a tolerant Paw Paw and an eccentric Granny.