Invisible Housework



Kelly knocked on my door at 7 p.m., still in her morning yoga-class clothes. She had steam coming out her ears and a white-knuckled grip on the dog’s leash.

“Nooooo.” I started.

She nodded.

“He didn’t dare!”

Her eyes crossed.

“Honey!” I yelled over my shoulder while grabbing our leash, “Kelly’s here. We’re taking the dogs for a walk, bye!”

The last time one of the Bus Stop Mommies’ husbands came home and asked, “So, what’d you do all day?” his freshly laundered boxer shorts mysteriously ended up strung between neighborhood light posts. “I know I did something” Kelly started, “because I haven’t had time for a shower yet. I know I didn’t stop moving all day long, but feel like I don’t have a stinking thing to show for it. Does he miss the dust on the picture frames? The shriveled lettuce fragments from the bottom of the refrigerator crisper drawer? Did he look in the linen closet? Does he even know where our linen closet is? I feel like so much of what I do is Invisible Housework. Why bother?”

“You cleaned out your linen closet?”

“Well yeah. The whole house was a wreck but I figured I could handle that one task. Didn’t you see that Oprah episode where some expert said if your linen closet is organized, you’ll feel like your whole life is organized?”

“Uh, sorry, missed that one.”

“Besides, when I sent Tommy to get a towel to clean up his potty training mess, he pulled out a washcloth and got buried under an avalanche of mismatched sheet sets. Why do I still have sheets with the Smurfs on them?”

“I dunno, Kel, but you shouldn’t be so hard on yourself. Think about it, most of the stuff we do is Invisible Housework — the dentist appointments, under-bed cleanings, dog training, spot treating — it all adds up.”

We rounded the block near our corner. Kelly sighed, “I better get home. I still need to finish the ironing before bed. I’m beginning to think polyester leisure suits went out of style way before their time. I hate to iron.”

“Me too. I’d rather pull old toothbrushes and slimy hair balls out of the kids’ bathroom drain.”

“Why bother? More invisible work. Is anyone going to shine a flashlight down their drain any time soon?”

“You’re right… And you know what else? We should just let our kids go to school with wrinkled t-shirts and pants. They’d probably start the newest fad and all the other moms would thank us. I mean, they’re already paying big money for faded, frayed, shrunken, ripped, and permanently dirty clothes; why not wear wrinkled for free?”

“You’re on! No ironing for me tonight! I feel better already. Now I just need to figure out what to do with those Smurfs…”

Karen Rinehart is a syndicated newspaper columnist, public speaker, and creator of The Bus Stop Mommies™. Her book, Invisible Underwear, Bus Stop Mommies and Other Things True To Life, is a popular read in book clubs, school pick up lines, and soccer fields. She enjoys hearing from readers across the States and as far away as Australia, Japan, and England. You can read more at BusStopMommies.com. Karen lives in North Carolina with her two kids, two dogs, and one husband, where they attend St. James Catholic Church. (Well, they leave the dogs at home.)

Subscribe to CE
(It's free)

Go to Catholic Exchange homepage

MENU