This morning I was folding the laundry. Patcha the cat was sitting on the computer chair . J, our chickenpox lad, was watching the adventures of Robin Hood on DVD. A cloudy and fresh day it was, one of those that manages to paint colors bright and deep. And I thought of the way I have walked in the years I am married, fifteen this summer.
I realised how anxious I was for everything to be perfect. The clothes ironed and perfumed, the laundry neatly folded in identical containers, the floors clean , the beds made.
These days, since the basement destined to become the playroom and the adjacent room which is going to be my workshop, are taken over by unsorted junk, and the press and iron are deeply hidden in an armoire, I rarely do the ironing.
After awhile C stopped complaining. Fortunately he is not required to wear shirts at work. Only my daughter F while discussing a friend's attire from school, told to me a few weeks ago: I'd like our clothes to be ironed,too. In other times, some six years ago, I would have melted into tears and sunk deeper into depressive thoughts: I'm inadequate, I'm a bad mother, I'm being told off by my own child , for heaven's sake! And finally, My mother would be ashamed of me.
Now, after a painful and wandering decade, I reply to this and similar suggestions: Yes, darling, I'd love that, too, once the basement gets sorted out.
I no longer take full responsibility for everything that happens in my house. Only my share, the share I have and as much as I can handle. My kids are old enough to sort out their toys and stuff, my husband can sort out his books and files. I am even considering hiring an aid once a week to help me with the things I like doing, like washing the windows, that now hurt my hurting back. I have cleaned and mopped our house ans our shop for years. I have cried while sweeping, regretting the opportunities I pushed away and missing the Anglo-Saxon mindset and my academic life.
But here I am, the year of my big 4-0. And I'm realizing that although I'd love being 20 again and doing quite a few things differently, knowing now that time passes so fast and life must be taken with a spoonful of sugar, growing up is a not a bad thing after all, taking into account where I started. And it all started with folding today's laundry.
