Why I iron my husband's clothes

Confession time. My husband loves ironed clothing for work. I hate to iron. Ok, maybe hate is a bit too strong of a word. I don't enjoy it, however. My feelings aside, though, it is a necessary evil in our house since the hubster needs to dress in business attire for work. However, he has never asked me to iron for him. In fact, he has actually said that if he wants something ironed he can "do it his own dang self." The laundry is on my list of responsibilities but the extra step of ironing has not been an expectation that Steve has of me. I appreciate that he recognizes and gives room for my aversions.

It is hard for me, though, to hang up wrinkly dress shirts and pants in the closet knowing he will have to iron when he is tired before bed or would have to get up extra early to do it. My solution? Buy wrinkle resistant business clothing and circle the laundry room like a vulture over fresh meat waiting for the dryer to buzz. I have been known to hurdle toys and other laundry to get to the dryer so I can yank those babies right out and get them on a hanger before they wrinkle. Did I mention that I don't enjoy ironing?

If I am being honest I do have to admit that you really can tell the difference between an ironed shirt and one just out of the dryer. Recently it became important to me to go a step farther, go the extra mile, if you will. Steve works very hard, gets up early with no complaint, deals with my night owl tendencies and more importantly values the call on my life to be stay at home wife and mom. I realize these days that being able to stay home with my kids is a luxury, that it's not always possible for those who would like to do the same. While we have made zillions of sacrifices and it is hard, hard, hard, I still wouldn't trade it for any other job.

Each week, I get his wrinkled shirts and pants out of the dryer and I iron them. I pray for him and his co-workers and I thank God that I have a husband that values the call on my life as much and sometimes more than I do. And you know what? When a less than desirable chore is done as an act of love and gratefulness, it takes on meaning and purpose and can actually be enjoyable. And if I do it while watching my Seattle Seahawks mow down their opponent on a Sunday afternoon, well that's just gravy.