The housewife in me is filled with *shame* as I type these words.
Your eyes are not playing a trick on you. That is my husband sewing a button back onto his pants. Why, you might ask? Because I don't know how to sew. Not even a silly button.
I think I'm missing that gene. The crafty, skilled with your hands, woman can make anything gene. My mom has it. Lord knows my Mema had it. My sister is even pretty good with domestic affairs such as sewing - but not me.
I think it's time I enrolled myself into a Home Ec class. Maybe a "Domestic For Dummies" tutorial of some sort might do the trick.
I watched last night as Steven skillfully sewed a button back onto his pants and my womanhood cracked just a tiny bit. Even Bauer wondered what was going on! I swear he shot me a look that said, "This is woman's work mom!"
To make matters worse, Steven kindly offered to iron my dress pants after finishing up with his pants. He wasn't being a jerk. He simply offered to iron my pants because he knows how much I hate ironing and he was willing to do this chore for me.
Needless to say I went to bed feeling like a fraud. I'm a wife, and I own a house. But I'm nowhere near the housewife my Mema trained me to be.
I woke this morning with the urge to bake a pie or crochet a blanket. I'm pretty sure I dreamed about becoming a domestic goddess last night......
PS - Those aren't Steven's glasses. They are mine - he was just trying to thread the needle and needed a little help. :)