Ren presenting a project in one of her classes this year. Doesn't she look so Breeish in that apron?
If you know me personally you know that I was quite the spoiled child growing up. And if you don’t know me personally but have read even a few of my posts, you are probably clued in by now, as well.
Before I continue let me clarify what I mean and what I don’t mean by spoiled. The kind of spoiling my parents did was not with $$$. Unlike many kids today (including a certain lad of five I know) who feel entitled to something each and every time their dear mom or dad has to drop by some market for a gallon of milk, I wasn’t treated to toys or candy every time we went walked through the doors of the Big K or TG&Y. By the way, I realize I have clearly dated myself with the stores mentioned above. If you are younger than 30 you are probably thinking, “What the heck is a TG&Y? Some kind of yogurt shop?”.
I was spoiled another way. Because hers was a hard childhood, my mom wanted to make sure mine was easy. And it was! (In my mind I just sounded like Forrest Gump saying that.) She did absolutely everything for me. I rarely, if ever, made a bed or dusted or helped with cooking. My closets and drawers were magical places where pairs of socks and jeans routinely replaced themselves. I cannot recall even one time that I was without several clean changes of clothes. Come to think of it, I don’t even think I ever saw the bottom of any drawer in my dresser. And the same held true for towels. Never did I have to use an old, damp towel. Not only were there always plenty on hand, they were IRONED.
I did help with the dishes once. I was about 16 and my father was unhappy that I never offered to help out and seemed unappreciative of all my mom’s hard work. So, he was determined one evening that I would wash the supper dishes. As I recall, he even stood over me (or close by) with a certain leather strap, aka The Belt, in hand. Swallowing hard and bravely forcing my hand into the DIRTY DISH WATER, I pulled up what I thought to be the rag and there, draped over my dainty, clearly not-meant-for-manual-labor fingers, was a slimy tomato slice. I have been told that my eyes rolled back in my head and I passed out on the spot! If you want a clearer mental picture of how this would have looked just watch/remember the scene in Stand By Me where Gordie finds the leech. I was never again asked or made to do the dishes.
Yes, I led a charmed life. And it was fabulous! But then I went and got hitched. And for a while, I was found to be somewhat lacking in the domestication department.
Luckily for Ren, I am not as loving and caring a woman as my mother was. She cleans her own room and bathroom, helps with laundry, and is not afraid to fix something to eat should hunger pains strike.
One of our favorite shows to watch together is Desperate Housewives and a favorite thing to do while watching is to laugh about which character(s) we are most alike. Ren loves Gabby’s style but has said she would one day like to be like Bree, minus the dysfunctional family. Seems, according to my daughter, I am a mixture of Susan (who doesn’t cook) and Lynette (easily exasperated with her husband and offspring) and, give it a year or two, Ms. McCluskey.
Have a great weekend, everyone. I am Tyla and I am in the market for a housekeeper. Just kidding. But it would be awesome if I had someone to do my floors. I can pay in peanuts, with cashews thrown in for those willing to do baseboards.