What Happened to June Cleaver?

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

I worked almost my entire adult life.  I took a small break when I had my first daughter, but still worked part time, and after we had our second daughter, who had some very major medical problems, I could not go back to work until she was three.  We needed the money, but our youngest daughter had a Tracheostomy tube and a feeding tube and it wasn’t until she was about three and stabilized, that I could find anyone willing to watch her.  Luckily, I had a great boss that allowed me very flexible hours and I was close enough to work to be able to run and feed her when needed. Those were hectic times, but as all mothers know, you do what you gotta do.

 

When we moved to Pennsylvania, I drove an hour one way to work and after gas and expenses, we figured I was clearing enough for a McDonald’s Happy Meal and we made the decision for me not to work.  My family was so incredibly supportive and I have since retained the title, “Stay at Home,” by my oldest daughter, who decided this name was more appropriate than “Stay at Home Mom,” since my children were grown.  Nothing makes her smile more than to introduce me to someone and say, “This is my mom! She is a stay at home.”  I usually respond back, “So nice to meet you.  I wished my daughter had stayed at home.”  My husband, on the other hand, was ecstatic.  He grew up watching Andy Griffith and Leave it to Beaver and he kept saying he was going to be the king of the castle.  I guess he also thought I might morph into Aunt Bea in the kitchen, June Cleaver with the housework, and Ginger Grant in the bedroom.  Unfortunately, what he got was Ginger in the kitchen, June Cleaver with a bad attitude and OCD tendencies, and Aunt Bea in the bedroom.

In the beginning, it felt so weird not to leave the house for a job, although, I was never bored and kept busy all day.  I felt guilty for not going to a job, so I worked hard to earn my keep.   Along with everything I had always done, I packed my husband’s lunch, tried to make a good dinner every night, and even ironed his shirts.  Thank goodness I didn’t have to spit shine his shoes, although there were days when he came home and said something about being the king that I did want to spit and I guess it would have been fine if some landed on his shoes.   Initially, I was the perfect wife, but somewhere along the line, it has all gone bad. It started with the ironing.  I tried to keep it up each day, but after a while, I stopped ironing the back of the shirts figuring he would never notice.  That wasn’t the only shortcut I made. Since he insisted on long sleeve shirts, but rolled up his sleeves every single day, I just sometimes left the sleeves rolled up when I laundered them to save us both some time. I figured as long as no one was checking my work and putting an “ironed by someone who has lost interest” inspection tag on the shirt, he wouldn’t know.   Pretty soon, I don’t know if some tattletale told him or he got a glimpse of himself in a mirror and was astounded he had been going to work looking like a Shar Pei dog from the back side, but one day he mentioned he was going to order some wash and wear uniforms.  I felt no shame, but just wondered what took him so long.  Problem solved.

Next, was that darn packing of his lunch. Of all the jobs I did, that is the job I hated the most.  I hated it when the kids were little and was probably the only mom pushing those school lunches on their kids.  As they got older and wiser, it wasn’t unheard of for one of them to say, “Mom, the lunches stink. Who knows what we are even putting into our bodies?”  Frankly, I can’t stand smart kids and I tried everything to reason with them, even telling them once an outright lie, since my mom packed my lunch religiously when I was in school, but these were desperate times.  “I bought a school lunch every day of my life and look how I turned out,” I told them, only to have my oldest say, “Mom, that is like having Ozzy Osbourne tell his kids that drugs make you smarter and help with your enunciation skills.”  I hated that smart ass stage because I always started laughing, which seemed to diminish my credibility as a disciplinarian.   

When family members would ask me what I wanted for my birthday or Christmas, I always said, “just pack dad’s lunch for one week or this could be the last birthday or holiday we spend together.”  Inwardly, I got ticked when I opened another present because it was never a packed lunch for their dad and it was clear by their responses, no one was taking me seriously. In fact, when I said, “didn’t you hear me say I might run away if I had to pack that lunch one more time?” they said that was why their dad made them promise not to do it for me. Many nights, I packed his lunch wearing my bathrobe and would sidle up to him, extend a leg, and say, “is there anything I can do to get out of packing your lunch?” only to have him say, “perhaps you could shave your legs.”  

Once, I even labeled his bag, “If you are reading this, please call 911. I am being held against my will by a tyrant that forces me to pack his stupid lunch.”  When he got home from work, all he said was, “FYI: I eat alone at my desk and the 911 operator said to tell you they are looking into getting you into a safe house as soon as one for idiots opens up.”  The good news is my daughter is trying to lose weight and now packs her own lunch every day and started asking me if I wanted her to go ahead and pack her dad’s lunch, too.  I guess as her mother I could have told her the age-old secret that once you start doing something; it becomes your job for life, but for now, that will be my little secret. I figure that should do it and another problem solved.

 

Making the morning coffee was another area I knew we were going to have to change for this homemaker thing to work, especially when my husband went out and bought the mother of all coffee makers.  I have already covered most of my problems with this coffee maker in a previous blog, but I will say I considered this appliance to be my arch nemesis in the kitchen and that is saying a great deal.  It was very time-consuming every morning and I was unable to get the lid off the carafe on my own without taking steroids.  It also involved a large mess every morning as my husband filled his travel mug each morning at one counter, decided the best way to get the sugar into the mug was to go to a different area and fill a teaspoon with a tablespoon of sugar, walk all around the kitchen, and hope for the best, and then take the mug to another counter to fill it with his half and half.  Each morning as the coffee ran out all over the counter and onto the floor as he tried to get the lid on his over full travel cup, it seemed just as shocking to him as the day before that the extra coffee in the cup had to go somewhere.   I can only thank my lucky stars that the man prefers showers to baths or he would be conducting his own “Displacement of Water” experiment daily. I always secretly felt that the last thought in his head as he left for work each day with his dripping coffee cup and his work shoes slipping and sliding in the liquid trail all over the kitchen floor was, “It’s good to be king!”  Luckily, I got a Keurig coffee maker and made him a little coffee center, and things have gotten a little better.  Problem solved.

The number one area, however, I differ the most from June Cleaver is, I bet she was a great cook.  She probably spent half her day going over recipes, deciding on her menu, and then making the perfect dinner for her Ward.  I spend a great deal of time, too, on my meals each day, but mostly trying to figure out how to get out of making one, so we can go out to dinner.  When I first stayed home, I really did try hard, and would greet my husband with, “I have prepared some of the finest cuisine in all the world for your dining pleasure.”   I quickly became known for a couple of my signature dishes such as my Baked Chicken, or as I have heard it called, “Not your Crispy Chicken again?” or “Why is there cardboard on my dinner plate?”   

It didn’t take me long to realize I was overselling my meals, so now I greet him with, “I just prepared an Italian dish I like to call Crappola al Crockpotta,” or “how about a Lean Cuisine and a salad?” This way, he knows going in what he is getting and some times; I get a wonderful meal out instead. The other day, my daughter was leafing through a magazine and started looking at some recipes.  She showed one or two to me with a hopeful look in her eye and I finally said, “Honey, do I look like Rachael Ray?" and then I heard the words I have been longing to hear come out of her mouth, “No, mom, I might try cooking some of the meals.”  All I could think was that my years of indifference and lack of trying have finally paid off.  I think I just solved another problem.  

 

What has happened to me? Where is the pride I used to feel in a well-run household? I used to come home from work and start vacuuming before I even took off my coat.  Whenever my mom stayed at our house, she always called me a “whirling dervish,” and said I didn’t sit still for one minute.  Now, I guess she thinks I am “whirled out” because she got a little testy on her last visit when she asked what we were having for dinner and I got mad and said, “for god sakes woman, I just made your breakfast.  What do you want from me?” and she pointed out that all I did for breakfast was hand her a box of Cheerios.  No one understands the pressure I am under to keep this house running like a well oiled machine and I have tried explaining to all of them that I have decided to pace myself so I don’t burn out and become an empty shell of a woman.  You should hear the laughter that comment generated and the last time I said it, one of them said, “too late.” 

Hopefully, I regain my mojo before I get fired from this job.  Usually, I don’t pass the buck, but I think part of the blame falls on Fudge and Vern.  There are just so many things I would rather be doing with them and I can find a million excuses to avoid the laundry or the housework so I can walk them at the park.  I also blame DoodleKisses and Adina, there I said it, because I would get so much more done without worrying what is happening on DoodleKisses.  I know just the other day my husband came home from work and I was on the computer and said, “I just finished making your dinner, but now I am following a discussion about Tara’s titer test, so can you help yourself,” and he said, “send me the link, because I always like to read a good discussion about titers.” 

I am pretty sure we were not talking about the same thing, but no matter, if I can get him hooked on DoodleKisses, he might have less time to be thinking about un-ironed shirts, bad attitudes, and less than stellar meals.  I think I just solved a whole lot of problems.

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Donna and F, Where is Ricki when I need help?  RICKI???  They are starting in again, and as usual, I am an innocent victim :) LOL

[F, Calla & Luca]

Donna, Laurie has done you one better. Now she is only 30 : ) Who needs prevention when you have prevarication?

[Donna K & Quincy]

The only reason I posted the seasoned version of Julia is so you could start some preventative measures. I was only looking out for your best interest. :>)

 

[Donna K & Quincy]

Laurie, I should point out that you should not know who June Cleaver is being as you are only 39!

[F, Calla & Luca]

Dreams are bad for your health.

Dreams are not fair since you can have loose associations to anything. At least some of us have to think of plausible, well almost, connections.

I  didn't post the ancient Julia.

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

F, I wondered how Donna found that discussion. I definitely feel a dream coming on..............

Donna, I don't believe for one minute you had to Google June Cleaver.........

You two are in cahoots again :)

[F, Calla & Luca]

Welcome back Donna. We did miss you! At least you got a break from all those chores: ) You may have missed the secret of Laurie's ancestry. Check out the discussion Bon Appetit.

[Donna K & Quincy]

I was out of town with no internet, it was rough!

[Donna K & Quincy]

Google!

[Laurie, Fudge, and Vern]

Donna, BTW....if June Cleaver was before your time, how did you know about Wally and the Beav?? LOL