My little helper
Having been a homemaker for sixty years, I am sufficiently capable of handling most things around the house. I began driving at sixteen and I’ve had no tickets, no accidents. Nor have I burned the house down.
I have not had the opportunity, nor luxury, to retire as of yet. I guess that will come when they either throw dirt in my face or put my ashes in an urn. My husband, however, retired nearly thirty years ago.
While most of us older gals are still maintaining a household and preparing meals, our retired man spends his days enjoying his newly found freedom from the daily grind of a demanding career.
Male retirement may include golfing, biking, sports cars, tennis, pickle ball, wood shop, photography or the gym, just to mention a few. And while the retiree is involved in these fun activities, the little women is home doing her normal household chores along with shopping for and preparing yet another delicious meal. I bet, when she stood at that alter, sixty years ago, she never realized that she would be committing to the preparation of 22,265 meals in the years to come. That does not include breakfast or lunch. But then, who’s counting!
As my husband has gotten older, and no longer drives, he has become my little helper in the car.
“You need to put on your turn signal.”
“You should probably speed up.”
“Are you going to slow down?” as he grabs the dashboard, while I’m doing 25 mph.
“You need to close up the gap between you and the car in front of you. Someone might sneak in.”
“You need to merge into the right lane because you’re going to turn in three miles.”
That voice asks me if I saw that the light turn green or red? And the question I really love is, “Do you know how to get home from here?” This is followed by the little voice telling me to turn left into Sun City, then left onto our street. Now, mind you, we’ve lived in the same house for twenty years. I’m sure I am knowledgeable enough to find our domain without instructions. And if I needed those directions, I shouldn’t be driving, right?
That little helper has also worked its way into my kitchen. As it hovers over me it asks,
“Why are you cutting the onion like that? You need to cut it like this.”
“Don’t you think you need a bigger bowl?”
“Have you stirred that? You don’t want to burn that?“
I’m told to bake cookies for ten minutes even though the directions say thirteen. And before I know it, I find the “man of the house” changing out the interior of my cabinets by moving things to different cupboard or shelves. I finally told him I’m invading the garage to reorganize his tools to my liking. That promptly stopped the invasion in my kitchen.
Some days I question how I ran a house, while raising three kids, without that little helper squawking in my ear. I actually figured out how to change a diaper, set up a kitchen, cook, clean, wash, iron, pay bills, do the gardening, grocery shop, sometimes even work part time…without my little helper!
Today I decided to just have a relaxing day. I even polished up my urn. I’m getting ready for my retirement!
Chris Roosa is a resident of Sun City Hilton Head.
