I am at my parent’s place for a much needed break from being a pickle-head (as Lis would put it!). Even though my brain is definitely stuck in one place right now I am hoping dinner with some outlaws tonight and then dinner with some wonderful wise women tomorrow and lost of poo free moments (read -child free) in between those two events might just stop me from exploding into a very sticky green and pink pile!
So stopped in for a spot of blog reading and scrap site surfing (since I can’t do any work on this computer! what a shame!) and had a big laugh at the number of domestic goddesses who related my three basket high stack of washing to ironing! IRONING? nope.. not in our house!
I have not ironed since the girls were in NICU… about 2 and half years ago now.
I remember it very well….I was trying to make an effort to look neat and presentable when I trekked into the hospital each morning so the social workers who had been trying to ‘catch me for a chat’ would buy my ‘yep all is good I am coping’ line when they finally caught up with me and leave me alone. I figured a clean shirt and wrinkle free pants was the best indicator that dealing with two premmy babies was not turning me into a basket case… and yes we all know I was living in the land of denial!
So there I was, bleary eyed from my various encounters with the ‘mean green milking machine’ over night, not entirely sure what day it was or when I last ate, standing at the ironing board ironing my pants for the day. All was good.. I was sure I’d keep those pesky social workers on the run! I lent over the ironing boarder to pick up my shirt… thought I may was well have a wrinkle free t-shirt as well hey? (yes I know, that really was just showing off!) Then I thought to myself, ‘ouch my arm hurts… I wonder why’ I looked down and it slowly dawned on me… ‘oh yes irons are hot.. that would be your arm burning!’ OUCHHHHHHHHHHHHH!
I had managed to badly burn a 6 cm line across my right bicep from leaning on the sharp edge of the iron. Since I’d been vague and not reacted straight away it was a lovely deep burn too… and not an easy body part to put under running water so it blistered up really well too. I guess sleep deprivation and stress does odd things to you as it really didn’t bother me much…so I got dressed and left.
When I got to the hospital, stored the milk in the fridge and went to check on the girls I couldn’t figure out why all the nurses kept asking me if I was ok! Of course I was ok… had been doing this same routine every day for the past three weeks, all was perfectly normal. I vaguely remember a few nurses asking me what I did to my arm and casually replying something about hot irons… then it happened….
I was summoned to a meeting with our peat and a social worker. My heart sank.. This could only be bad news… Even the bad things that had happened with the girls so far had been discussed at their cot side, this must be super bad. I was escorted to the ‘nice’ waiting room and asked if DE was here as they’d like him to join us … Ahoy…. This can’t be good. And then they dropped it on me….
“We are worried about you.. Several of the nurses have told us that you have ‘hurt’ yourself and seem to be not coping at home with day to day things.”
I didn’t get it for a minute…. then it dawned on me.
“Oooooooooooooh my arm! Ah well you see, the thing is, I am domestically challenged… don’t know how to iron to save myself and always manage to burn something this time it was me…. but really I promise I will try learn to be a better house wife before the girls come home.. I promise!”
But from then on I was doomed… all the social workers had me on their hit list and they always seemed to be there everytime I walked down the corridor or tried to steal a quiet moment in the ‘milking sheds’… all because I can’t iron!
So that was the last time I ironed… so that picture below is of three baskets of clean, but wrinkled, clothes that simply need to be put away…. though I imagine they will still be there this time next week if things continue the way they are….. but domestic goddess I am not and I have NO intention of ironing them!
HipbubbyMama says
Kate-I’m sooooo with you! I hadnt even considered ironing-then I saw it had been mentioned, and i thought “oh god I am so slack, the thought even occured to ME!!!!” LOL Ah that’s funny that incident with the social workers, thoguh you poor thing, must have been so hard to go through at the time, all that coming and going and sleep deprivation and all night pumping :( (now the LAST bit *I* can relate to!)
Lis says
Youch for your arm!!!
Glad you are taking some time ‘off’ being a pickle head and enjoying some ‘you’ time…you well and truly deserve it :)
fazzbech says
Wow, what a story! That just confirms why I never iron. And my DH thinks I’m weird because I shake each piece of washing before hanging it neatly – why? So I don’t have to iron it!! Though I did iron a shirt for DH just this week, but that was out of necessity – can’t turn up to a funeral looking like you just rolled out of bed!
Leah says
*hugs* Kate. Last time I got out the iron Audrey said “what’s that?” :)
Nic and Beren says
Ouchies ! oh that would have been hard to deal with Kate. Enjoy your time off.
Thats it, Im not ironing ever again I keep looking at my two baskets and sighing. LOL
Rae says
Oh jeez sounds like one of those infuriating ‘crazy’ situations where the more you protest the more you look like you’re just in denial. Ironing is a pointless waste of time. It’s a luxury as far as I’m concerned, like matching your clothes in the morning ;)
anastasia_wolf says
I don’t iron. It’s pointless in my books ;). But your poor arm and those bloody social workers LOL. I guess you can laugh about it now ;).
Sue Jones says
Right, that story goes into my “Reasons why I hate ironing” file to be bought out and showed to DH every time he mentions that the pile is growing larger. Actually, I really must do some. He only wears a particular work shirt every fortnight (and he has 10 of them) and I think he’s down to his last one hanging in the wardrobe. arrgghh…. now there’s a week ruining thought!!
Trish says
I hate ironing!
I hope your arm heals fast.
Ironing, I do it before we go out LOL and i just fold and hang the clothes off the line, it is quite amazing what doesn’t need ironing when you hang it and fold it right from the line, get a child to do it and everything needs irnoning – go figure LOL
Peta says
Ohh I’m joining you on that list – I can’t remember the last time I ironed…but my reasons no where near as good [or trumatic] as yours though… I’m just lazy ROFL!
Sharon says
Kate – I sooo want to be like you. With two kids and a full time job as well I could definitely do without the piles of ironing my family generate, BUT I JUST HAVE TO DO IT. It is a compulsion – the thought of me, or worse still, my children wearing wrinkled clothes makes me run for the iron!! I just can’t help myself!! I blame my mother…….
Sharon
Bin Mitch's Mum says
Oh Kate, your poor arm :(
You know before having Mitchell I used to really enjoy ironing, but with a baby it was just so difficult to do it and keep him safe I just got in the habit of not doing it and even though it could be done safely it just never occurs to me any more :)
Chris says
LOL Kate oh what a joy you would have been for those social workers….just ready and waiting to pounce all because you don’t iron. I don’t iron at all either…nope I couldn’t stand seeing baskets of wrinked clothes stacked somewhere and I hate ironing so it goes straight into the wardrobes only to be ironed when it is absolutely necessary and not a minute sooner.
Happy to hear you took some time out Kate away from all the stuff that’s happening of late and I hope it was enough to get your head around a few things.