a safe place

I had an interesting experience last weekend that caused me to reflect on family relationships. After spending several days feeling desperately sad about the tendency of some families to break each other down, I have renewed my commitment to not let this happen in mine. I have come up with a new mantra for myself: our family is a safe place.

That my kids will never know a parent who tears them down, a sibling who condescends, or a dictatorial spouse is my deepest hope and prayer. That our home will provide unending love and hope and respect to all is the biggest accomplishment I ever hope to make.

the all-american housewife

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...