Tuesday, February 22, 2011

House work

I make no bones about it, I hate housework. I come from a long line of women who hated housework. My grandmother lived in a teeny little house with three rooms. A kitchen with a wood stove and a table with chairs, her bed room and my uncles bedroom. I don't recall a bathroom. I do recall the house was picked up and moved to the country. I suspect my grandmother was spoiled as a child. She didn't do much of anything, except paint her nails and smoke. I don't ever recall seeing her cook or sweep or do the dishes....
My mother was a terrible house keeper. She was quite open about her loathing of cleaning the house. My sister and I did most of the housework. Every Saturday we would each get to pick "upstairs or downstairs" for cleaning. Sweeping dusting and mopping. I can still smell the Pine-sol that reeked for days.
Mom preferred to be barefoot and in the garden. She liked mucking in the mud. I can see her coming in the door in her denim shorts and blue checkered sleeveless shirt and very dirty feet. She was a farm girl through and through. She loved animals, kids and nature.
I remember as a teen, being too embarrassed about the state of our house to want to invite friends in. I also was embarrassed about my Mom's appearance. She was too "down to earth" and didn't measure up to my friends mothers, who wore gingham dresses with cute aprons and always baked cookies. My Mom ran a pickle factory when she was not gardening. She also painted and cut out horses without drawing them first. She was a messy cook and aways had dirty dishes stacked up in the sink. When she mopped (rarely) she called it giving the floor "a lick and a promise".
It took me a lot of years, a husband who was adverse to housework and two children and too many pets to pick up after, before I became enlightened. I came to the realization that housework was never ending. I could clean the house from top to bottom and before I got to the bottom, the top need cleaning again. I gave up. I decided I liked being outdoors more than I liked being in. I liked gardening a whole lot more than scrubbing the bath tub. It was more fun to do something with the kids than to spend time scolding them about their lack of tidiness. It made for a more peaceful relationship with my husband, to stop keeping score of whose turn it was to do the dishes or take out the garbage . When I was working , it helped to have a cleaning woman come in weekly. When I didn't have a cleaning woman, it helped to lower my standards. After all if the children and my husband didn't object to living in squalor why should I?
This morning I decided I had to clean my house. It took me maybe a half hour. Vacuuming mopping dusting while the washing machine hummed. I feel pure. I feel righteous. Now I can invite someone in......

2 Comments:

Blogger Unknown said...

my experience exactly!

12:48 PM  
Blogger Kim said...

Here's my theory...how can you possibly appreciate a clean house if you haven't lived in a messy one for a week? That's why I appreciate the odd cleaning :)

2:31 PM  

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