I've been thinking with fondness lately of the All-American Housewife. The June Cleavers, Marion Cunninghams and Ethel Mertzes of the world, dolled-up in delightful dresses and perfectly polished pumps as they served their husbands three squares a day and washed all the dishes by hand.
I wouldn't trade my life today for the lives that they lived then (I'd be more of a Lucy Ricardo if I did), but I'm beginning to admire them more - for taking a moment each day to dress up, for wanting to take care of their homes. I admire them for waiting patiently at home, for keeping a dinner plate warm. For growing geraniums and mopping their floors, for ironing everything they wore. For wearing white gloves and polishing silver, for making elaborate jell-o molds. For putting their families before everything else, and spreading their beauty around.
I'm grateful that now all this is a choice - pants or a skirt, stockings or not - that ironing and jell-o are an option. But I do find joy in baking bread and making jam and greeting my husband at the door. And at these moments I think the housewives knew best. A happy home is a happy life and I should do whatever it takes to make it so.
Maybe I'll start wearing dresses more often...
2 comments:
AMEN! the older I get the more impressed I am with those women who took the housewife thing so seriously and with such commitment :)
I've always wondered how they kept their nails pretty when they were always hand-washing dishes. And I also have to wonder - we have greater rates of depression now, so have all of our gadgets and activities really made us happier?
Here's to the simpler life! I think I'll go make dinner now. (Oh yeah, I just ordered pizza.)
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