Saturday, October 24, 2009
Loretta left a comment a couple of blog entries ago after I posted a lovely 'anonymous' poem about hanging clothes out on the clothesline. She told me how her mother had certain places on the line where certain items went and she'd have them take them down and do it over again if they hadn't hung the clothes correctly. That brought back memories of when my Mom decided it was time to teach me how to make a 'proper' bed. I had to have been one of the most stubborn children ever created on this earth, as well as being a diehard tomboy, and household chores were not on the top of my priority list. But when I was around 10 Mom told me it was high time I learned how to change bed linen. Then began our battle of wills. My father had taught her the military way of making beds so she set out by demonstrating to me how it was done. Then it was my turn. Nope, no good. Then again. Nope...still no good. And again...and each time she'd strip the bed down to the mattress and make me do it from scratch. By the time I finally succeeded in doing it 'right' I was reduced to tears. Kind of like those "Naughty Chair" sessions on "Supernanny"? Where I was forced to keep at it until I did it correctly? Oh, how I resented my mother on that day. But years later as my mother-in-law was passing thru our bedroom she told me, "One thing you do that I admire so much is what a lovely bed you make." If my mom had been looking down from heaven that day, I'm sure she had a good chuckle!