I adore ironing.
I'm always ironing for someone I love - and that makes me so happy I ache.
I love the sound and smell of the steam.
I love starch.
I love taking messy things and making them neat.
I love folding warm pillowcases and hanging warm shirts.
I love taking care of people I love.
My mom was a world class ironer. The ironing board was never put away - she ironed everything - pillowcases, pajamas, dishclothes, even our bras.
Maybe that's why I love it so - it reminds me of her.
I'm the proud owner of that ironing board. Every time I take it out and it squeaks when I open it - I'm a kid again - standing at that ironing board on a cold Chicago morning as my mom would iron my shirt right before I put it on - so it would be warm.
I'd eat my oatmeal as my socks warmed in the oven.
I so want to nurture my family like that - it's the little things y'all.
The little things.
Today when I was ironing, I looked down and saw my mother's hands.
The ropey veins, the long skinny fingers.
My hands definitely show the years of work I've put around this old farm house - and I wear them like badges of honor.
The spirit of a homemaker is in every woman - I truly believe it.
Apron that thing up and wear it with pride.