She Irons

As I type, my mother is ironing my family's clothes. We are waiting for dinner to finish. I made borscht in the crockpot earlier today. My dad is watching my crawler. My daughter is making bread. My husband is cleaning in the kitchen while watching a football game. The boys are watching the game and matching socks.

This feels right...especially the me not ironing part. I really dislike ironing to the point that I don't wear clothes that need ironing. This isn't an anti-ironing statement. I just plain don't like ironing and have never had the desire or incentive to become skilled. My mother is a woman of extraordinary ironing skill. She has fond memories of ironing my father's Air Force uniforms when they were newly married. Now THAT takes patience and precision. She was nineteen.

Mom has always ironed for me. She ironed my Sunday clothes and special clothes for special occasions. She ironed my maid of honor dress for my sister's wedding, much to my sister's relief. Ironing is one of many ways that she shows me she loves me. Ironing is one of the many gifts she shares with her loved ones.

Sharing gifts within a family lightens burdens and increases feelings of connection and well being. Ironing as family glue...works for me.