Domesticity

I left for college shortly after my 18th birthday. One thing I was very interested to notice about college life was a different set of "tactics" employed by girls in attracting boyfriends. For some strange reason the need to display our talents of domesticity became imperative.

One simple conclusion to jump to would be that we were all trying to convince the young men of what good wives we'd make. And I was sure I'd make a good wife. Someday. But I had plans for myself meanwhile. (My sister, who is five years my senior, was still working on her bachelors degree at that point and I'd watched all her many -single- adventures and was sure I wanted to follow loosely in her footsteps.)

Another possibility could have been that we were surrounded by a bunch of guys living without their moms. So we were perhaps trying to raise our perceived value to those young men by displaying our ability to fill some voids that a long-distance mother left behind.

And maybe we were simply coming into our domesticity by virtue of moving out on our own and having new responsibilities. Whatever the reason, I found myself doing strange things for boys. I restrung a wooden beaded bracelet for one, I sewed on a bunch of shirt buttons for another. And of course I utilized my budding culinary skills.

But rather than feeling like I was being forced by society into an assigned domestic "sphere," I felt empowered. I liked being able to "do things" for myself, and for those helpless boys. Repairing things. Creating things.

Recently I was able to display my domestic prowess in the capacity of serving my spouse. My mother taught me to sew. We did a number of projects together over the years. So I confidently picked up a pattern to sew some pants for Jeremy.


This pattern was "advanced" and pretty difficult for me. I would sit and read the directions for a single step over and over until I could figure out what it was saying in my head. Then I'd do it and hope it worked out.



But what a great feeling. I did some really cool things. As I worked on the back pocket (of course they start with the hardest part) I was amazed at how it all came together and, though the edges are a little bit buckled, I DID IT! Me. I made it--with my own two hands, and nothing feels as good as that.




Come back tomorrow to see why in the world Jeremy would need a pair of pants like that!