ironing

It was bedtime. I had already put Jakey down and had told Jules and Lace (Jen and Carlos were at Jenny's volleyball practice) that it was time to brush teeth and hop into bed. I announced that I would come to tuck them in shortly. 'Shortly' became a little long, as I was finishing a chapter in my book. I expected one or both girls to come ask when I would be there and why I was taking sooooooo long. But, it was silent. This made me curious. Jules and Lace are past the age where silence means they're getting into something (Jakey's not), so I thought maybe they had climbed into bed and had fallen asleep or something, after all, they still hadn't recovered from "springing the clocks forward". So, I got up to see what was up and found Lacey lying in bed, but no Jules. "Where's Jules?" I inquired. "She's ro-ening," she pronounced slowly. Me: "What?" Lacey: "Jules is ro-ening, I can't say it." I didn't understand and Jules appeared just then so I asked her where she had been. Jules: "I was "ironing" my clothes for tomorrow!" I walked into my bedroom where I do all the ironing and there was a very neatly stacked, perfectly pressed outfit for tomorrow. She had gotten out the iron and ironing board and the board was set up to her height. WOW! Jules REALLY is my daughter (as if I ever doubted!). I am an ironer. I do not like, nor have I ever liked, wrinkled clothes. As a teenager I used to get up for early morning seminary, throw my clothes in the dryer and jump in the shower. That was my answer to "pressed" clothes. It worked. When I went off to college at BYU, I didn't have a readily accessible dryer, so I made very good use of my iron and ironing board. This was the beginning of my "ironing." On my mission I used the iron regularly, and as a wife and mother I iron A LOT. Did I mention that I do not like wrinkled clothing? Now, I don't iron all my bedsheets or my underwear, I'm not that fanatical, but I DO iron jeans that are wrinkled. I have been made fun of for that one. I iron baby clothes because I don't like wrinkles on my kids either. I don't mind ironing Carlos' dress shirts (neither does he), if I don't take them to the cleaners. Carlos is NOT a fanatic and only irons dress clothes because, well, he should. This past summer when all the summer activities were being scheduled, I had decided to do sewing lessons with my kids. We started out with a pillowcase. I had invited 2 friends to join us and we went shopping for little sewing kits for each girl and I let them choose their fabric for a pillowcase and a tote bag. I taught them how to look for 100% cotton fabric, etc. One of the steps of sewing is ironing between other steps. You should always press seams open, etc. This was my opportunity to teach these 7 thru 10-year old girls how to iron. Well, I guess the lesson stuck with Jules. It didn't surprise me that she was the one who inherited the "ironing gene" or maybe I should call it a mutation! Poor thing! It's much easier to just not care! But, I have to admit it was a proud moment for me.