Last night I got to help the children pick outfits for spring school pictures. Yes, the spring photos, because they have changed so much since fall photos (I really am tempted to ask the school what percentage they earn from the photos). Seneca wanted to wear a skirt, she doesn't own one that is long enough except for her uniform skirt, so while she pouted I went to find appropriate items for Diezel. His only request was to wear jeans so I found a nice soft t-shirt to go under the sweater I wanted him to wear and told him he could take the sweater off after the photos. He seemed agreeable so off I went to appease Seneca.
Her and I finally agreed on a orangish/tye-dyish dress with a bright turtle neck underneath. We even managed to locate a pair of off-white tights with no holes. I thought we were on easy street until I used my critical eye to view the ensemble with an outsiders eye. Wrinkles. Damn wrinkles. I do own an iron for the purpose of ironing my quilt blocks but even during those projects I seriously debate on whether or not I want to go through the effort.
I was being lazy, as I always am with an item that needs to be ironed, so I hung the dress up with the hopes that overnight the wrinkles would straighten out. I made it back downstairs and thought I would try the old "steam it in the shower trick", although this has never worked for me I thought it would be less intensive than getting out the iron and board. By this time I could have ironed half my wardrobe (please note there are no items in my wardrobe that need to be ironed) including her dress. Instead, I finally decided to be an adult (read:my mother) about the situation and lugged out the iron and my mini ironing board (I would never own a full size one) and just did the deed.
It helped to know that I could finally block out the scarf I knitted at the same time, without that scarf in back of my mind Seneca probably would have had a wrinkled dress in her spring pictures. Gosh, is that selfish or what? My quilts and now scarf are all finely pressed but my kids are a rumpled mess. I guess I could be the polar opposite, one grandma used to iron her sheets and my other grandma used to come over and try to iron our jeans. I guess evolution is at work here, survival of the fittest: the fit do not iron unless absolutely necessary!