Wednesday, 20 October 2010

Strike while the Iron is Hot

Yes, I know. New Scary Picture of self, but was rather fed up with the Summer Scene and gently wafting flowers in old picture, when am back in my furry boots and thermals, while thinking seriously about whether to get out the Furry Hat.
To more Important Topics. Like Husbands.
Because sometimes Husbands can be a right pain in the neck.
No, really!
Was helping Middle Son with homework on Sunday evening. It was rather a dull task, with him finishing off a project about the Second World War, and me getting bossy about Fonts and Layout and Polishing It Up. Middle Son wanted to print the bugger out and go and watch X Factor. I wanted Posh Fonts, Smart Layout and Polishing It Up. As you do.
After quite a lot of Sulking and stuff, Middle Son was doing things with Fonts and Layout and Polishing It Up, when all the Bastard Lights went off in the house and we were plunged into darkness.
Out of this blackness came Husband's voice.
'Oh.' he said.
I said some Choice Words which contained the word Iron and Sodding and You Silly Bugger.
This was because Husband had decided to do some ironing and always fills up the water bit to the very top which means he blows the electricity Every Bloody Time He Irons. Almost. Am very slightly Exaggerating here but needs must and all that.
(It might be said at this point that am very lucky to have Husband to do ANY flipping ironing at all, and I would say, also at this point, that I agree. It's just then when one has been helping Middle Son with his chuffing homework ALL DAY and the electricity goes out JUST as it's almost done, removing the work that has been recently added, it is a Little Vexing.)
After some moments of fiddling around inside ink black cupboard trying to locate the one switch out of about 120, to get the electricity on again, and having GOT the electriciy on, and having seen that not ALL the work had been deleted in the process, Middle Son said to Husband,
'Daddy, WHY are you doing the ironing when you KNOW I am on the computer?'
Husband says, really quite Huffily,
'Well, if I didn't do it, it wouldn't get done.'
Talk about Strops.
Big Stomping Strop.
I did.
I went into a Major Top Quality Female Stratopheric Stroppy Strop.
Because while we KNOW that what he said was probably completely true, THAT IS NOT THE POINT. The point is that I must keep up the pretence of doing the ironing every day. Never must it be said that the ironing gets done ONLY because if it wasn't, no-one would have anything to wear. (Husband only steps in when pile reaches catastrophic heights.)
But this is not how it is in my head, OK? In my head, I iron every day. Snowy white napiery. Sheets. Shirts. Piles and piles of the sodding stuff.
So I stropped.
Marvellous, it was.
It stopped everyone in their tracks.
Even the cats.
I left the computer and Middle Son, and headed for the kettle. Which I put on. Very Loudly and with lots of Crashing.
Then I Laid the Table.
Smash, Crash, Bang. Nothing broken, you understand. Just Noise. Lovely, lovely Noise.
Then I fed the cats.
Boy, did I punish that tin. Crashed it down on the sink and threw the food sort of at the bowl. The cats didn't mind.
Then what? Oh, yes. I put the jam on the table. Well, sort of threw it and threw it again when it landed on its side. Picked it up and SLAMMED it down.
By now, a small, intent audience of four were watching. Husband, a little alarmed. Children, wondering what on earth Mum could be in such a strop about.
Middle Son sort of mentioned Ironing to them, but they were none the wiser.
At this point,Husband approached, and asked in milky, sweet tones, would I like some help.
I think I snarled at him. Showed all my teeth. Hissed with all the Spit I could muster that I Did Not Need Any Help At All, Thank You Very Much. Type of thing.
He backed off and sort of got on with Other Things in the kitchen.
Looking around nervously as things got moved about with some Vigour.
I continued my Strop with renewed Force.
Although was getting a little tired. Strops can be knackering, eh, girls?
Tea was finally made.
Scones! Jam! Pot of tea! Lovely!
And a boot faced, snarly old hag of a mother, scowling round the table at her nervous family.
At some point after my second sip of good hot tea, felt a little bit of a giggle coming on.
Looked Askance at Husband. Just as he was looking at me, in the same sort of way.
Snorted out some tea.
Wiped the worst of it off the freshly baked scones.
Sort of smiled at each other.
'Am really sorry,' said Husband.
'Yes, but you MEANT IT,' said I, regaining a tiny momentum of Strop again.
'But am really sorry,' said Husband.
'Yes, but you really MEANT it,' said I, regaining a little bit more Strop.
'Oh, MUMMY, Daddy has said he is SORRY and that means it's OVER,' quotes Youngest, in world-weary tones. The quote is from his Mother. Who is so wise about other people's arguments and such a child over her own.
'But...' I start. And stop.
'Am really cross still,' I mutter from side of mouth.
'Know you are,' mutters Husband from the side of his.
And we share a cheesy smile.
It's the cause of such Disharmony. It really should be Banned.
Trouble is, Husband would then do it, and then SEE how bad I'll look.
Oh, buggery bollocks.
He'll just have to do it like the guy below.
Might even enjoy himself in the meantime.


Sir Bruin said...

This sad story only goes to confirm my theory that ironing is an unnecessary exercise. Clothes soon lose any creases after being worn for a little while. Hope this helps!

Ladybird World Mother said...

May I please have a large notice of this for Husband. WE know this, but he clearly Doesn't. Can you hand it in by Friday?
Thanking you in advance for services rendered to Stressed Wife. xx

London City Mum said...

Ironing. Best done by people who are not related to the wearer(s) of items being ironed. Preferably paid labour.


Anonymous said...

The key to a happy marriage is a husband who knows how to say "I'm sorry" (and mean it) and a wife who knows how to accept his apology. Your youngest is right, and his mother is very wise for teaching him that.

Even my fairytale princess gets mad at me sometimes, usually when I've gone and said something incredibly stupid - but when I say I'm sorry, she knows I mean it, and she can't stay mad at me then.

Oh, and I agree that ironing should be banned (although that "exteme ironing" picture looks like fun - I'll have to try that sometime)

Kathy G said...

I LIKE the new picture!

I stopped ironing on a regular basis when I was pregnant with Son #3. He's 22 now. I buy things that are labelled "Wrinkle free" and make sure to take the clothes out of the dryer immediately so they're not wrinkled. Nobody ever complains.

Anonymous said...

Love the new pic! Suggest you dress husband in clean but wrinkly shirts and make him stand outside your steamy shower for 15 mnins every morning - creases will fall out with no problem! For trousers, merely fold carefully and place under mattress before sleeping on them. Works a treat.

Strawberry Jam Anne said...

This made me chuckle LWM. I haven't looked in for a while and have missed you. LOVE the new header photo by the way. But to the ironing problem. I have to say I quite like ironing - sorry. Husband never has, never will iron anything, so it's all down to me anyway. I do my mother's ironing as she is elderly, I do my daughter's whenever I visit, as she is a busy working mum of a sometimes stroppy six year old. If only I lived closer to you ....

martine said...

We have an extreme ironing calendar but other half thinks some of the pictures are photoshopped. He prefers his clothes crumpled:-)
thanks for sharing

PantsWithNames said...

Love the new pic. I don't iron. Ever. If husband wants ironed shirts he can do them himself. One of the reasons I don't iron is that we would do mammoth strops on catastrophic scale of yours. But there wouldn't be any lovely tea and scones to spit my tea out over.

Loved this post!

Pam said...

I love the new picture!
And I love my clothes dryer too - no ironing EVER, just a good old shake. And I buy clothes that won't wrinkle, which means that I avoid linen like the plague.
Glad you are all happy now. You did make me laugh though.

Vicus Scurra said...

What's ironing?

Tattie Weasle said...

It was never in my marriage contract. IN fact I had a lot of things removed from contract like obeying and promising to still love him in sickness(I don't do sick people) I just don't remember ironing being there. Husband did try it on two weeks after marriage but realised quickly he was on a non-starter after havng to go to work with big brown ironing mark on shirt, never had a problem since...always contracted out!

Boyfromoz said...

If the truth be told, look at line 28 of your story!

Pip Pip XX

Boyfromoz said...
This comment has been removed by the author.
Boyfromoz said...

......I deleted the above post 'cos it was a repeat, not because I wrote something nasty - butter wouldn't melt in my mouth, honest!

Troy said...

Why not have a new blog header photo showing you in corner of the room writing your blog with husband in centre of the room doing the ironing?

(word verification is "angst")

wonderwoman said...

that was a brilliant post!!! I hate ironing soo much i make hubby buy non iron shirts!!!!!


Ladybird World Mother said...

LCM -agreed. Nothing like Staff. Must must must get some. x
Jeff- saying sorry is the real key, eh? It's must accepting those two little words that can be pretty tricky on occasion. But we get there in the end... Now, be careful about that ironing. A little difficult to get the Emergency Services out for that... but you will know all about that! x
KG - STOPPED IRONING??? You absolute marvel. Will do so at once. x
Mud - oh, that is the answer!! And wont he look gorgeous, all wet and Daniel Craig like. Um. x
Anne - oh, you angel, I really think that if I DID live closer, that you WOULD iron my stuff. I love you!! x
martine - really WANT the Extreme Ironing calendar... envious...SO wish I had husband who likes rumpled look. Grr.
Pantswithnames - Oh. Sigh. So jealous. Dont Iron Ever is the bravest statement I ever heard. (apart from We will fight them on the beaches, etc)
Good for you, Pants. Will have to follow in your Rumpled Footsteps. x
Pam - you too??!! All these women who DONT IRON. I am so proud of you all. x
VS - Well, it's this rather quaint process of pressing a hot piece of Steel onto a garment in order to press all the wrinkles and rumples out of said Garment.
It is also the One Bloody Awful Load of Shite that I cant bear to do EVER AGAIN. xx
Tattie - wow, no ironing OR sick people. You are a Queen of women and no mistake. xxx
boyfromoz - I know, I know, quite right... and I agree with Line 28 wholeheartedly. Except on Sunday.
Troy - naked? That'd get a few more followers and comments, eh? x
(Husband naked, not me. Or both? There's a thing. Or two.)
ww - Non iron shirts sound heavenly to my ears. My MIL buys a new shirt for Husband each year, and each shirt is about the size of a small tennis court if you laid it out flat, with all sorts of darned corners and pleats and AAARRRGGGHH. Non-iron PLEASE!!! X

Catharine Withenay said...

Oh - I do sometimes wonder if you are me in disguise. Funnier, prettier and more organised, but nevertheless. I have far too many of these strops - met with the same silence and confusion from the children and tender love from husband.

However, the only reason I know you're not me is that my husband never does the ironing...

Clippy Mat said...

you can't beat a major stratospheric strop. and you were completely justified I might add.
How very dare he cast aspersions on your ironing frequency!? Obviously what he does is just 'helping'. It's not really ironing. It's only that when WE do it!

Expat mum said...

I wish SOMEONE here would take the attitude that if he didn't iron it wouldn't get done. My (American) husband has never ironed in his life and thinks I'm mad for ever bothering.

Cheshire Wife said...

I can just imagine all of this. My husband does his own ironing. It is the only household skill that his mother taught him, but he has never ironed anything of mine.

Tatersmama said...

Ironing? What's that?? I swear that the last thing I ever ironed was my knee-length hair, back in 1972... when it was de rigueur to have dead straight locks and white lippy in order to attract the opposite sex.

But the 'stroppy' bit? I can easily (and I'm afraid, recently) relate to that one! There's something just so satisfying about slamming things about on the bench top, whilst making vague yet dire muttering noises, isn't there??
The best part is that everyone clears out, and then I have control of the remote for a little while. ;)

Anonymous said...

Well, you have inspired me again, Ladybird. 'In my head I iron every day.' Yes!!! I think the time we mothers spend THINKING about housework should be added to the time we actually spend doing it. You genius!

libby said...

My husband irons his own shirts....and I find that if you leave everything else folded properly in a basket for some weeks then magically the creases and again a 'husband' sized basket would be good.......

Anonymous said...

I must remember never to ask my husband to do the ironing or we might not have a house left. In fact, I don't even think he knows where the iron is.

Strop away; we all need it from time to time.

CJ xx

Karen said...

So funny. My husband has to take care of his own shirts as I stopped ironing in the late nineties.

Mother Hen said...

I, thank the Ironing God, have a husband that can actually push the stupid thing up and down without burning material. His problem is forgetting to unplug it when he is done.
He nearly burned off the fur on the cat the other day!