Mummy! There’s something in the living room!!
This was my son O’s reaction recently upon seeing an ironing board for the very first time.
He’s four years old and completely oblivious to what this ‘thing’ is. He rather perceptively said, “it looks a bit like a surf board on legs.”
… it would definitely be more fun if it was.
I’ve never liked ironing. When I was healthy I would do it, but only if absolutely necessary.
After getting sick with Severe ME and POTS, there was zero situation where ironing was absolutely necessary. I felt so unwell and had so little energy that I really couldn’t have given less shits about how creased our clothes were. They were clean, thanks to my partner – and that was good enough.
Six years went by. Pete (my partner) was my carer for the years I was Severe, as well as working full time and doing all the other housework because I wasn’t well enough. He didn’t have time to iron or care about his appearance either. During this time our son was also born, my health eventually (and thankfully!) started improving, and zero ironing has been done. Until now.
Last week, Pete decided to iron his shirts. It pans out the man DOES have limits for how long he’s willing to look like he sleeps rough. His shirts, as crumpled as my life, hopes, and dreams back when I was Severe … are finally coming back to life.
… and I know how they feel.
I have spent the last few years coming back to life, one flattened crease at a time. Granted, I still have many limitations, which will always be there due to the nature of chronic illness. However, they are like faded crinkles that no one really notices unless they look closely – or know me well enough to clearly see my struggles.
Given the increased quality of life I have now, compared to when I was Severe … I’d like to think the worst of my crumples have finally been smoothed out.
Seeing the ironing board all set up has made me realise something: I think I’m well enough to iron again.
Granted, I probably still won’t do it unless absolutely necessary. But I will do it often enough until my son understands that it’s not ACTUALLY a surf board on legs!
