Lesson 1: Establish a Routine

As my quest to become a "June Cleaverish" housewife continues, I soon realize I am going to have to be organized about this or it's just not going to work. Fortunately, I have a mini-library of 50's books to help me with this task. After reading what a few of them have to say, I actually found that Amy Vanderbilt's Complete Book of Etitquette (A Guide to Gracious Living) offers the best advice about organizing the household tasks into a daily routine. Kudos, Amy - I wouldn't have expected a Vanderbilt to have more to say on housekeeping than the editors of Good Housekeeping, but then that just goes to show you you can't judge a housekeeper by her family name. I will be more than happy to share Ms. Vanderbilt's opinions on such things with you, but I think it will be best to break it up over the course of a few days so that nothing is lost and we can all take our time truly appreciating what she has to say. That, and it's going to take me at least a few days to get this all down. I hope Ms. Vanderbilt would find me a promising student.

The whole family should be urged to arise early enough for a leisurely start on the day. There should be time for father's second cup of coffee, his pleasant walk to the station, his morning romp with the baby. If mother is to become family chauffeur, breakfast should be eaten by all at the same time so she has a regular, peaceful meal, too, and time to clear away the dishes, if not perhaps to wash them, before taking father to his train or the children to school (p.377).

Ok, here's the thing about that: my dear husband, or "father" as he is referred to by Amy, sincerely loathes mornings. His preferred method of "starting the day" is anything but leisurely. He wakes up, hits the snooze, "sleeps" for 7 or 9 more minutes...whatever the darn alarm does, then proceeds to eat his Froot Loops in front of ESPN before he finishes getting ready for work, grabs his briefcase and scoots out the door.

Hmm...what to do, what to do. So this morning, determined to have a leisurely breakfast together, I wake up, feed the baby, and I'm feeling pretty good about this. The school called last night to say today would be a 2-hour delay due to icy roads, so I think I have a pretty good shot, at least this morning, of doing the breakfast deal.

I couldn't have been more wrong. I casually asked father what he would like for breakfast (since I hadn't been to the grocery store yet this week, there was not a Loop to be found in the house) upon his arising. I placed his lemon-raspberry muffins (homemade, I might add!) and orange juice with a napkin on the table next to my multi-grain cheerios and white grape juice. And what does the man do?! He comes right in for breakfast, grabs his muffins and plops himself right down in front of Sports Center! I mean, I know not much has happened between dinner last night and breakfast this morning, but how is it he's so very certain I don't have something to say that could rival the latest news in sports?

Other than that, father doesn't drink coffee, he doesn't take the train, so needless to say he doesn't walk to the station. He did give our baby kisses and hug before he left, as he does every morning - so we'll call that a romp or in the neighborhood of a romp. He also managed to trek across the tundra that is our front walk out to the car in one piece and make it to work on time - a near miracle if you've missed the weather reports lately.

It appears I might have to be a little more vocal about what is required of a 50's husband in the future...great. I can practically see the eye-rolls and hear the heavy sighs now!