Memories of a vintage housekeeper

 

My mother was a good homemaker. Some of my earliest memories were of her hanging out washing on her long line held up by props.  She used to boil up the copper and honestly, she had the whitest washing ever.  She used Rinso to wash the clothes and Lux Flakes for delicates.

When I was really young, we didn't have hot water on tap, so Mum would boil up the kettle, fill the sink- a single sink- and she used a metal cage thing- pictured here with slivers of Velvet soap in it to soap up the water. Steel wool was the go for saucepans and the plates were washed with a foam rubber sponge.

Whilst she was washing the dishes, she would have the kettle on again to rinse them. Then we children would dry them for her. We had metered gas by way of a machine with a coin slot in it in the laundry. When the gas got low, Mum would put sixpence or a shilling in it...

We all bathed daily and our hot water was heated by way of a chip heater over the bath. I can still remember fighting over who was the child who was to be seated under it. It was scary to a kid's mind. In fact, I sometimes still dream of it- making sure the water tap was on before lighting the pilot light.

Pride of place in our living room was the clothes horse aka clothes airer. Mum was very careful to air all our clothes and she spent quite a lot of time arranging clothes on it daily.

Mum had it tough too because we four children were bed wetters. She worked very hard to keep up with it all. 

With all her neighbours finishing their chores by 9am, poor Mum was still washing the sheets. In fact, when they called on her for a cuppa, she would be flustered because she was inundated with work.

Mondays Mum "did through".  She vacuumed, dusted, cleaned the bath and toilet and ironed. She also polished the linoleum in the kitchen with her Hoover polisher. It was quite a chore, with applying polish, buffing it with the machine then redoing it with the lambswool pads.  Her Monday routine was as regular as the sun coming up in the morning. 

Everyday, she would also make the beds, do her washing, think about what was for tea that night, clean her kitchen and sweep the carpets with a carpet sweeper. Routines were written in stone.

Mum didn't have a car, in fact Dad didn't even have one. She would catch the bus into town and shop for groceries which were delivered to our house. No plastic bags: the bags were brown paper...

I remembered how hard she worked the day I held her gnarled hand as she passed. She certainly loved her home and family... 

I am so glad that God honours the hardworking woman. In writing her eulogy, I included that well-known and loved verse from Proverbs 31 and when it was read, everyone of us nodded our heads in agreement and acknowledgement. She was blessed. 

Memories of a well kept house we were never ashamed to call home will always be dear, along with the memories of a tired but diligent homemaker and her wonderful serving of our family, and then her  second husband's. 

Yes, they're happy memories of a vintage housekeeper

First we have coffee!

 

As you probably know, my twin sister is ill and has been living with us for the last five months.

She has now moved into her own new rented home and my son, her carer has moved in with her. She's in need of a carer.

Helping her has left both Chris and I spoonless and that condition is not going to improve any time soon. We have now found a new rented home two minutes away from them and the move is happening in a few weeks.

Although we feel the effort will be worth it, finding the spoons to move is a hit or miss thing. I must force myself to keep going.

I am suffering from an expected fibromyalgia flare, my knees are hurting and I cannot move my neck thanks to polymyalgia rheumatica. 

I am happy to be moving but not so good with the pain. But I pace myself taking frequent breaks and drinking endless cups of tea.

My kettle is constantly boiling for a cuppa and it is the first thing I do each day. I join millions of others in enjoying to lifting qualities of coffee or tea to start each day.

Like I read in a book, "First we have coffee!", it has proven to be true for me, only my lifting beverage is tea! 

Enough acid to rival Chernobyl

 

I have been on Somac for GERD for at least 20 years and I have just learned that it has been allegedly responsible for giving stomach cancer and kidney disease to many users.

Honestly, I don't know what to do and so I have made an appointment with my doctor next week to discuss it.

My GERD causes me to aspirate my acid and stomach contents thus inducing aspiration pneumonia three times so far. I am now in a dilemma to know what to do.

There's been a class action in Australia and it seems that many people have suffered after taking it. I will update after I have discussed it with my doctor.

Honestly, it's a bad time to stop using them with being stressed, tired and fighting a long fibromyalgia flare. I pump out enough acid to rival Chernobyl's meltdown.

Shanks as pony

So today I handed in my driving licence. Sitting here tonight, the enormity of my decision and resultant actions gave me pause to think.

The fact that I have torn ligaments in both knees meant that I no longer have enough strength to apply the brakes or accelerator. I have become a danger to myself and others.

With constant brain fog from fibromyalgia as well, I felt it was time to stop driving.

Vic Roads sent me paperwork to have my doctor and optometrist clear me to keep driving as I suffer from type 2 diabetes and that can effect the eyes.

I was going to get this done but then I realised that my eyes are not the only risk when I drive- my knees not working is as great a risk.

So instead of going to get my eyes checked, I decided to just stop driving. As I said, I handed my licence into Vic Roads.

And now, I am sitting wondering if I have done the right thing- yet I know I really had no choice.

There is always the option of walking around if I have no one to drive me somewhere... it is known as shanks as pony- using one's legs as the mode of transport.

Herein lies the problem with that- there is no shanks as pony, because I can't walk with torn ligaments that can't be fixed.

I hadn't thought much about it until now, but here it is- no driver, no car, no money- and sadly now, no shanks as pony!

Sufficient to the day

 

As  a woman who suffers from chronic illness and pain through fibromyalgia,  I often succumb to bouts of depression. I have a few tips on overcoming it. 

First and foremost, start your day in prayer. Ask God for the strength to face the day and play worship music to lift your spirit.

Try to be in the moment and take one day at a time. That's all we can tackle otherwise, the sense of failure can be overwhelming. We aren't meant to take it on all at once.

If you try to just focus on the next task at hand and not dwell on the future, it will help your attitude to realise that you have accomplished something. It will then snowball as you progress through the day.

With chronic illness, I set myself just one or two daily goals that are achievable: for me it is wash the dishes and put away the clean clothes. I only focus on those goals that I know are achievable and if at the end of the day, they are done, then I feel a sense of accomplishment instead of defeat.

Nothing depresses me more than a feeling that I have achieved nothing all day. I don't worry that others may say "for goodness sake, it's only washing dishes..." for us in the throes of illness, be it mental or physical- it's a big deal. Delight yourself in small victories.

I find that in setting small goals it knocks the cloud of gloom off its perch and makes me hopeful that I will be able to rise above the depression. Give yourself a high five and see that any job you do is a step in the right direction. It still blesses your family and serves the LORD. 

I think when we are depressed and/or in pain, the desire to go Home to the LORD is strong. After all, we are tired of living in a world of pain and we look forward to our redemption. But in saying that, we still have a work to do until that time. 

As FlyLady says, baby steps. But just taking baby steps lead us out of our rut and it is that first baby step that will hasten our healing of depression and sense of failure. 

  Sufficient to the day is the evil thereof. Matthew 6:34 

It is what it is! indeed!

 

In my efforts to still be mistress of my home in spite of severe health issues, I have tried to pare down my necessary daily tasks.

I can forgo doing the washing for a day or two. I can not make my bed or do much cleaning. But every single day I find I must cook, which is a necessity that brings the second necessity of the day: doing the dishes.

Oh I have left them before during a fibromyalgia flare. But I have learned that they seem to multiply like rabbits- my kitchen sink and bench are testimony to this!

I have left the dishes until the morning or even until the evening, but the mess on the plates and cutlery makes the job not only labourious, but "yucky". So I have learned to keep abreast of them.

Now I know some people use paper plates to avoid doing the dishes, but I am old school. Besides, everything tastes better on a china plate or in a glass or cup. I detest polystyrene cups or picnic cups.

Occasionally during a bout of angina or fibromyalgia or even a day of back pain, I am happy to order take away meals... but it is such a nasty blow to the budget that this is rather rare.

So then I am now convinced that I must acquiesce to doing the dishes daily as we absolutely must eat- there's nothing else I can do about it except cook.

Finding two daily essential jobs wasn't easy because there are so many more things one could count as essential. 

More over, one thing chronic illness has taught me is that spoons dictate not only one's lifestyle but standards.

One can either accept less high standards or die trying to sustain them. And given the effort in just breathing and being some days, the standards become more achievable.

I have had to accept what the young ones say, "It is what it is!"  Indeed! It is! 

A common thread

 

I recently saw this beautiful painting that evoked happy memories of both my childhood and my mothering days.

With a large family of seven to wash for, I usually washed three loads of laundry daily and hung it out.

So many years ago,  and a time when the days were long but the years were short. Now mostly a distant memory. I now longer can hang my clothes out.

Fibromyalgia and polymyalgia rheumatica has put paid to hanging the washing on the line. Flexing my sore muscles is so painful these days. I am forced to use the dryer.

I really loved the smell of line dried clothes and delighted in this painting with the children in the yard. 

Hanging the clothes out to me is synonymous with family life. It speaks of service to family, activity and life.

Globally, I think we can all concede that washing on the line is a common thread that unites the human family.

When you got no spoons everyone has to help!

So my respite from pain has come to a sorry end. I have been hit with the Mother of all Flares. Just breathing is too much effort and sleep is brief and light. The truck that hit me didn't even stop. 

I have been pacing myself majoring on keeping the dishes and the washing up to date. It hasn't been too difficult really as I have planned in advance for the inevitable fibromyalgia flare that comes after a respite.

Most people who don't suffer from fibromyalgia would call me a pessimist, but we Fibromites know how fickle our body is and how greedy it is for spoons. We never can have enough spoons to say we are energetic. Spoons are energy measures

It's enough to have enough spoons to take a shower some days, and we usually suffer after for it in spite of the pride in ourselves that we made the effort and did it..and the luxurious feeling that being dainty brings.

No, we are realists who accept that our bodies are treacherous. They lure us into a false sense of joy in a seeming abundance of spoons- well enough spoons to make us believe that we can change the sheets, bake a cake, vacuum the lounge room or go shopping. In real life shopping, not just on the computer.

Knowing better really, but delirious in the freedom that a few spoons brings, our joy knows no bounds and we actually dare to live like we did before Fibro claimed our lives, bodies and joy. And we keep living in the moment full of joie de vie until the joy and spoons are gone.  

No, I knew from 20 years experience that my respite from pain would be short-lived and it was.  But because of planning for it, it hasn't seen me in a total mess, overwhelmed with meals and mess.

I had my dishwasher and I kept up with the dishes. I did a load of washing a day and I dried it in the dryer. But my greatest life saver was my frozen dinners I have in the freezer. They saved the day.

In all honesty, though I haven't kept the house running smoothly all by myself. I have had to enlist Chris to help me with stacking and unstacking the dishwasher and I asked him to put his own clean clothes away as soon as they came out of the dryer.

He has been really good actually- a blessing really. He also encourages me to take a nana nap, and feeling so fatigued and sore, I am so glad. We all need a hand when we are feeling so wretched and when you got no spoons everyone has to help! 

My thermostat's broken!

 

Once I passed menopause, I thought I would be free of hot flushes and sweaty nights, waking up in a bed of sweat and feeling nauseous.

However, fate was not kind to me and as soon as I finished the menopause, I became ill with fibromyalgia.

To be honest, I am never at a normal temperature. On blood thinners for heart stents and antiphospholipid syndrome (or sticky blood), I feel the cold keenly and on any given day while everyone in my home wants to turn the heating off or down, I am there pleading my case for more heat.

Ten minutes after the heat is put up for my benefit, I have to turn it off again. I feel sick- I am sweaty and unwell.

About an hour before I go to bed, I turn my electric blanket on as I feel the cold so much. I sink into the warmth as it soothes my fibro muscle and spinal pain. A couple of hours later, I wake, sweaty, nauseous and out of sorts.

I strip the minkie blankets off but I feel cold so I put some back. Five minutes later, I am hot again and I stick one leg out of the blankets and fall sleep again.

This cycle of hot/cold repeats through the night. I am turning like a rotisserie chicken! Thanks to fibro, my thermostat's broken.

My cactus sofa

                            

We all like to find a comfortable place to sit or lie down. You know, somewhere to put one's feet up and just relax. But I am finding with my fibromyalgia flaring and my spinal problems that this is not easy.

No matter where I sit or however comfortable a chair looks, it's usually uncomfortable. Take for instance the new computer chair I recently bought to solve that problem.

It looked so suitable on the website and I was certain it would do the trick, but when it was finally assembled, it was not comfortable and it seemed to aggravate my lumbar region, making my legs go numb.

As far as furnishings go, the chair wasn't cheap and like so many things I have bought to relieve pain, it is not being used.

The lounge suite with recliner ends can't be used either. The recliners are so hard to get in and out of. Thanks to fibromyalgia giving me muscles the size of sparrows' knee caps, I cannot operate the side lever to bring the recliner footrest out.

If Chris helps me with that, I also cannot get out. I have no muscle power in my legs, thanks to fibro again, torn knees, and spinal problems. The only good thing it's for is to lay on.

And speaking of laying- even my bed is hard to get comfortable in. With muscle pain at an excruciating crescendo by the end of the day, no matter how I lay, it feels like I am trying to sleep on a concrete slab!

I only have panadol osteo for pain relief as my doctor is very hesitant to give me any and I will not take Valium as a muscle relaxant. I was addicted to it for years as it was the first thing they gave me in hospital for my many weeks of traction for my Schuermann's Disease.

Fibromyalgia is a pig of a disease/syndrome. It rules my life and leaves me nowhere to turn off and seek some comfort. When you couple that with another malady such as my ankylosing spondylitis, it drives one over the edge emotionally.

As someone in need of some pain relief and her doctor too afraid to order it, I am seriously considering changing doctors. Until that happens, you will find me lying on my cactus sofa.