Friday, July 4, 2014
Wherein, I Fail as a Wife
Excerpts from "How to Help Your Husband Succeed, from Modern Bride Magazine, 1956:
....helping your husband to succeed at his job is an important part of being a wife....Just as your husband's personality will influence the emotional climate of your home, so will your attitudes and behavior be vitally responsible for his success on the job.
Obvious though it may seem, a man's good work depends in large measure upon his good health. That's why a wife who is doing her part as a helpmate keeps an orderly house and provides appetitizing and nourishing meals two or three times a day. No man who goes off to work without an adequate breakfast can put forth his best efforts. And that's why, too, there are occasions when a wife sees to it that her husband doesn't overeat or take one drink too many if he has to go to work the next day.
Besides making a point of being understanding, wives can save their husbands' time. A husband hard at work on his job has little time for running necessary errands so a wife who combines his shopping with ehr own performs a valuable servce and permits him the needed respite of an unrushed lunch hour.
...Once your husband has his wardrobe in order, it will be largely up to you to keep it that way. The cleaning, the laundry, the mending of socks and the turning of shirt collars---these are your responsibilities.
The point is, quite simply: while a husband concentrates on his job, a wife can concentrate on helping him. By keeping things where he can easily find them, by having his raingear and muffler handy when the weather threatens, by tactfully showing him when to be formal and when to wear spots clothes, a wife displays the tenderness of her concern, as well as her ambition for her mate.
Let's just say this: I don't cook, my organizational skills are non-existent (unless you are talking about work, and then it's totally different), my cleaning skills are marginal at best.........so my husband would obviously be a dismal failure in life, and it would be all my fault. We would probably sit around in wrinkled clothes, eat junk food, and drink too much. And be perfectly happy.