I have gotten so much accomplished today, it’s not even funny.
I am obviously a stay-at-home mother. Before that, I was a housewife. Therefore, it is incumbent upon me to do all the housework. Sure, Kurt helps out along the line, especially with things that are “his.” Like putting his clothes away, and cleaning up after dinner. But since I am home all the time, most of the housework falls to me.
It’s only fair, right?
It also works out because I don’t really mind doing the housework. It’s not my favorite thing to do, by any means, but I can name worst things to do. Like being a school janitor and having to clean up kid puke. Bleccch.
Lately, I’ve gotten very much in touch with my inner hausfrau. On Sunday, I had planned on doing nothing but sitting on my chubby derrière and doing a bunch of stitching while watching the football games. After such an exciting day at the aquarium on Saturday, I figured I deserved a day of rest.
Instead I found myself doing a butt-ton of laundry and even ironing two of Kurt’s uniforms. Yes, folks, I ironed his uniforms. I know I go on and on about how they’re his uniforms, and how he was taught how to take care of them in boot camp, and why should I iron them anyhow? But then I forgot he had Monday off, and I figured if I didn’t iron them right then, he was going to be scrambling around late Sunday night to get his uniforms ready.
Aren’t I a sweet wife?
I’m so glad he’s now a Chief Petty Officer. This means I have been liberated from my sewing machine. No more sewing!! I used to have to sew his name tag, the US Navy patch, his patch denoting that he’s surface-warfare qualified, and his rank/rate patch onto every dungaree shirt he owned!!! I even had to sew a name tag onto his pants, right above the back pocket. It always made me giggle that he had his name on his butt.
(For those of you who are old-skool Navy, names are no longer stenciled onto a sailor’s shirts. There are patches for everything. Also, they’re no longer called “dungarees.” They are “utilities.” If you want to confuse a young sailor, refer to his uniform as his “dungarees.” He’ll look at you like you’ve got two heads. Kurt’s been in the Navy long enough to call them “dungarees.” I don’t count because I’ve been around the Navy my whole life.)
Anyhow, it’s not like they wear their dungarees (the light blue shirt with the dark blue pants) anymore. Almost everyone on a ship wears their coveralls (one-piece dark blue jumpsuit, onto which I still have to sew a zillion patches) every day, and if you’ve got an office job, you’re wearing your service dress uniform if you’re enlisted, khakis if you’re an officer or Chief. There’s talk of getting rid of the dungarees entirely.
But I digress.
Now Kurt has pins on his uniform where before he had sewn-on patches. His ribbon bar is pinned on, his anchors are pinned to his collar, his name badge is pinned on. Everything is pinned! Of course, this leads to many lost frogs — those little things you clip onto the pin part inside your shirt. They’re also called “dammits.” Why? Because you are constantly losing one and constantly saying, “Dammit, I lost one!”
Wow, I have really gotten off track here.
So I ironed his uniforms on Sunday, and let him pin everything back on. Then as soon as I was done, I realized, “Oh, crap. He doesn’t work on Monday. I did all that work for nothing.”
Ah, well. It kept me out of trouble.
Then today, I was supposed to watch my neighbor’s kid. This meant that I had to stay home, in case he came home from school early. And being forced to stay home usually results in a flurry of housecleaning. Today was no different.
So I vacuumed the house (not like you could tell — darn my dark brown Berber carpeting), mopped the floors, and cleaned the bathrooms. I even removed the wet sheets from Grace’s bed and stuck them in the washer. They still haven’t made it to the dryer, but hey, the day’s not over yet.
I even worked on setting up my new sewing table.
We’d seen a table for sale at Walmart and decided it was something I definitely needed. My sewing machine finally has a permanent home inside the house. It’s been languishing away in the garage for the last five years, and getting very little use (except for sewing on all of Kurt’s aforementioned badges) because really, who wants to lug a heavy sewing machine from the garage to the dining room table, and clear off the dining room table before using it? It’s too much of a pain.
The photo there doesn’t really do it justice. The door that’s open swings out a full 180º and becomes a support for a leaf that’s attached to the left edge of the desk. That way your working space is doubled. And when it’s all shut up, it looks like a nice little cupboard. You would never guess it’s a sewing table!
I’d love to have one of those old-skool sewing tables where the sewing machine would be raised and lowered as needed. My real mom had one when I was little. But hers doesn’t have all the storage I now have. And we all know, storage is key!
So I’ll have to rev up my sewing machine and see what lovely creations I can come up with. I know I need to hem my new kitchen curtains, first and foremost. Then we shall see what crazy ideas come out of my head!