I knew I had to do it, but I was scared.
Scared of the unknown.
Scared of the unfamiliar.
I had done it before, sure, but a long time ago. In fact, the last time I did it, it was right before my first baby was born. I did it again right before my second baby was born.
There really wasn't a need, you see, for me to do it after that. And when you don't do something on a regular basis, you tend to forget how to do it right, you know?
But... I did it tonight.
I ventured downstairs, and started to panic, but I was determined to do it. How hard could it be, after all?
I soon found out - it was very hard. Not easy at all! I had no idea where to start, how to position it, what the water was for, what lines to follow, and where to finish.
I was swearing under my breath, mad at myself for never having listened or learned this basic life skill.
What kind of a wife was I?
What kind of a mother was I?
I felt like a huge failure. I hated Martha Stewart.
I almost burned myself.
But in the end, I did it.
I ironed my husband's shirt.
And never had I needed a glass of wine so badly...
I just have to add here that I normally send my husband's shirts to the dry cleaners, so I don't have to deal with the horror story you read above. However, he needed this shirt to wear to a function tomorrow, and I, being a nice wife, thought I would iron it for him. It was a failure, but I tried. It's the least I could do for the man who has cooked dinner for me almost daily for over 5 years!