Giving Up

I've had two teeny dresses, two small white oxfords and an apron on my ironing board for a month.  I'm giving up, I'm not going to iron them.  Which is sad, I come from a long line of ironing, on both sides of my gene pool.  But I'm the black sheep I guess, or the generation of change to give up.  I ironed, my brothers ironed, my mother of course ironed.  But then I married my husband and he does not come from a long line of ironing.  I have no idea what is linage of ironing is, but I know his mother did not iron, and his best friend's mother taught him to buy wrinkle resistance clothing.  So then I gave up, I ironed my husband's shirt once years after being married.  Well first I left his white shirt in the drier for two days, then hung it up, in Church I was embarrassed.  So the following week I ironed it.  When proudly whispered to him that I ironed his shirt, he looked at me confusedly and asked why. Clearly my husband is a lost ironing cause, he can't help it. All the influential mothers in his life taught him to not expect such things from his wife of the 21st century.  And right they were in that influence.  But I had plans to teach my children the beauty of a well ironed church outfit.  But I've failed and giving up, the dresses are getting hung up.  Maybe next time.
Maybe once we moved, I'll set ironing as a goal, and maybe I'll be obsessed with counting my pennies, and saving them for yet another can of paint. A bank owned property needs a lot of cans of paint.

Truth be told I'm on top of my ironing as long as I sew.  No sewing means no ironed clothes.