Good with my wrinkles…

Last night I took a good look in the mirror and scanned all of the wrinkles.  There’s big ones, small ones.. ones that start small and get bigger or start big and blend into hardly noticeable.

Up until yesterday I really didn’t have a problem with them… ’til someone pointed it out.  Now, there they are, everywhere I look I see them… and others are seeing them as well.

The thing is my kids have them too.  I think it’s a hereditary thing.

I’m sure I can get rid of them, but the fact of the matter is… I hate ironing.  I don’t see the point.  Sometimes I do a quick rub over my clothes… mostly if I’m heading out to a nice dinner or downtown.  I’ll set up the ironing board, plug in the iron and take the worst of the wrinkles out.

I had a girlfriend who ironed her jeans before we’d go out. She wanted a perfect crease right down the middle of her denim pants! I thought it looked ridiculous. I was always thrilled when she’d set up the iron though because I loved to put my head on the board and run the hot thing across my long hair. Thankfully they eventually invented the flat iron… my ears were in jeopardy on more than one occasion.

From time to time I purchase the children something that requires ironing.  They’ll wear the item once or twice… then it ends up in the ironing pile… and by the time I get around to ironing it again… they’ve outgrown it!

I grew up watching Mom iron.  She’d set herself up in the family room, ironing item after item while watching her favorite soap on tv and humming a little tune.  When she was done she’d perfectly fold the item… sometimes ironing as she folded.  If it was a dress shirt, she’d hold the top of the wire hanger in her mouth, placing the shirt on the hanger where she’d button the top button to keep it in place.  She’d then place the hanger on the doorway casing until she was all done… when she’d put everything away… lining all of the perfectly de-wrinkled shirts in the closet… and neatly filling the linen closet.

Mom ironed doilies, hankies, pillow cases, table cloths, curtains, sheers and sheets as well as Dad’s dress shirts and pants.  From time to time she’d mix up a crazy starch concoction that looked like paste and iron some of her crocheted doilies… forming the edges with the starch to create beautiful masterpieces.  At some point, ironing became one of my chores.  I liked to iron Dad’s shirts… it made me feel special that I could perfectly flatten a shirt that he’d then wear to work or meetings for the day… I knew exactly how much spray starch to put in his collar to make them just right.

I don’t use table cloths… or sheers, I can’t be bothered ironing sheets (but on occasion will iron just the fold down part), doilies are passee… as are hankies… I rarely wear dress pants and hate ironed jeans… so with the exception of a dress shirt or a blouse, there’s not much need for ironing around here.

Every now and then, a hockey coach requires dress shirts and ties… errrrghhhhhh…. however, the most action my iron gets is if my youngest is doing a craft with Perler Beads.  She designs a pattern on a form, covers it with ironing paper and then hands it off to me where I iron both sides to fuse the beads together!  I use it for other craft and sewing projects as well… there’s this fantastic “stitchwitchery” that you can use to sew up a pair of curtains or hem a pair of pants… it’s technically glue that when ironed… fuses two pieces of fabric together!  Who needs to sew when you can stitchwitchery!!!

I stood in the mirror yesterday and realized I’ve got a lot of wrinkles.

But they don’t really bother me.