Home Ec. Flunkie

Hello, my name is Melinda. And I am a Home Ec. flunkie.
 
I took the required Home Economics course in junior high just like everyone else, and I made the obligatory fabric tote bag. I think I may have even earned an "A" in the course. But as far as owning the secret of amazing cookies or how to use a sewing machine. . . Well, I can bake a mean batch of pre-packaged cookies. And when I'm feeling really adventurous, I can even sew a button on a shirt. That's about the extent of my home-making expertise.

My Mom, my Aunt Candie, and and my grandmother are all domestic goddesses. They're known for their famous cinnamon rolls and their unmatched hospitality. I'm good at some things, but cooking, cleaning and decorating definitely aren't on the short list. (I think this secretly pains my mother.) 

To her credit, my Mom taught me how to cook.  She also taught me to do all the household chores, like cleaning the bathtub and toilet (I hated it!) and scrubbing the kitchen floor. I often helped out at home by getting dinner started while my Mom was at work. But I never enjoyed any of those tasks. In fact, at the ripe old age of 34, I pretty much despise all things domestic, including laundry, cleaning the house, and any variation of baking and cooking. I guess you could call me domestically challenged. Blame it on The Lists my Mom left for my sister and me.

I hated the dreaded L-I-S-T. That four-letter word made me want to shout other (forbidden) four-letter words. My sister and I would arrive home after a hard day at school, and there it was: The List... laying on the table like a coiled snake ready to strike. The List spelled our doom. 

We wanted free time. We wanted the afternoon to live foot-loose-and-fancy-free. But The List had an alternate agenda. . . like a steel, jail-cell door slamming closed on our teenage freedom. The List required me to do dreaded chores such as wipe my brother's pee off the toilet and pull nasty body hair out of the tub drain. 

To this day, I despise pee on the toilet and hair in the tub. That's why John and I have separate bathrooms.

Now before you judge me as an ungrateful, overgrown teenager, please allow me to clarify. Now that I'm all "grown up" and stuff, I understand why my Mom made The List. She needed my help to get things done. It's nearly impossible to juggle the needs of a large household unless all the members of the "family unit" (as Mom called it) shoulder some weight.

It took 20 years for me to get it. Now I'm looking forward to the day when Jack gets old enough for me to leave him a L-I-S-T. . .  I sure could use the help.