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Show Kathleen Norris Says: Husbands, Take Notice! Bell Syndicate. WNU Features. "Marty is quarantined jor the measles, and the thermometer at 82 . , . and Dirk saying, 1 'Bathroom windows crying for five minutes of soap and water QUIT NAGGING With laundry and delivery, and practically every other sort of service curtailed, with domestic help almost impossible impos-sible to get, a mother of three little boys is bound to be very busy. She is willing to do everything she can, but necessarily neces-sarily she must neglect her housekeeping a bit. Everything would go along all right, except that her husband hus-band is one of those neat, efficient ef-ficient souls who want cleanliness clean-liness and order, no matter what the situation is. He will rub his finger over the piano, and hold it up to show the dust, or he will hint that the drapes need washing. While he is polite and even sweet, he is constantly nagging. These people are well off. They have an income of $6,000 a year, and live in a six-room apartment, apart-ment, and are accustomed to a rather high standard of living. or orderly or quiet, and he spooned cold cereal into the boys and went out for his own meals. Once, afterward, I asked him what he thought of my job. He merely observed ob-served that if he had it to do he would so organize it that there wouldn't be a.11 that confusion. War Conditions. "I'm a college graduate, intelligent, intelli-gent, enthusiastic, but I won't stand too much of this! Please write an article saying that unless men understand the infinite difficulties of housekeeping these days, the endless joja that is that of a wife and mother, the complications of no-laundry, no-tailor no-tailor no-household help, no-deliveries, marriages will continue to go on the rocks. "What started all this," Daisy concludes, "was something that'hap-pened that'hap-pened this morning. Marty is quarantined with measles, the thermometer ther-mometer at 82, the baby refusing his breakfast, and Dirk putting his head in the door after he had left to say sweetly 'Bathroom windows crying for five minutes of soap and water!' Please write something that will make these exacting husbands ashamed of themselves." Dear Daisy, I say in answer, your letter seems to me to be as good an argument as any I could think up. Dirk isn't the only husband who has grown exacting and critical in these tense days. It's partly a nervous reaction re-action to the fearful events that are shaking the world, and as such ought to be treated with patience and kindness. But at the same time a lot of husbands ought to wake up and take stock of themselves. If she's sweet, if she's distractedly distracted-ly and gaily doing her best, if she can cook, if she loves her children, home, and husband then for the duration try to regard her as she regards you, a high-spirited finely-trained, finely-trained, courageous individual who is managing to get through the most convulsed and agonizing period ol all history with a minimum of nerve renter damaee. By KATHLEEN NORRIS "70U'VE been harping for months on the war-J- time duty of wives to keep the home front happy," writes Daisy Chalmers, a spirited young matron of Springfield, Mass, "why don't you sometimes blow up the men for the ridiculous demands de-mands they are making on us, their stiff-necked insistence that everything shall be exactly ex-actly as it always was, war or no war, and their calm expectation expec-tation that a house without servants will run just as smoothly as a house with a good cook and a nurse in it! "I have three adorable, noisy, destructive de-structive little boys," the letter goes tin. "Dick wanted boys and boys only, and fortunately I was able to oblige. They are healthy, I am healthy, I am a good cook, with, I-think, I-think, a fairly even and amiable disposition. dis-position. Until just before Paul, the ,ygungest, was born, I had a domes-lie domes-lie helper of sorts. She was old, slow, stubborn, but she was absolutely abso-lutely faithful, scrupulously clean, and she loved the babies for their very naughtiness. We paid Josie $15 a week. Dirk's income is $6,000 a year doesn't it sound big? But it isn't as big as it once was. And whatever it's worth now, it won't pay for a maid. Cramped In Apartment. "We live in a six room apartment, up two flights of stairs. Of course, the children can't go out without me, and when they do all four of us, including in-cluding Paul, now a year old, have to be dressed for the street, the coach has to be bumped out from the locker under the stairs, pillow and covers dumped into it, and Paul ' established in state. Crossing a street with a baby buggy and boys of two and four is no fun; getting the groceries home is no fun either. We have' no dumbwaiter, but the delivery boy pants up our stairs twice a week; everything else I carry myself, sometimes including Jack, or even my eldest, Marty. "Now, I love all this; I'm equal to it; I'll get through. But what upsets up-sets me is my husband's mild, sweet, incessant hinting and criticizing criti-cizing of everything I do. Our part of town is dirty and dusty, grit comes in and Dirk runs his fingers over polished surfaces and shows me the grit. "All this distresses Dirk terribly. terri-bly. 'Would you mind touching up your hair before we sit down, dear?' he says. 'May I have a spoon that isn't quite so sticky?' He asks if the boys have been out in the glorious fresh air; scowls when I say only for an hour's marketing. They ought to have more of an airing than that. 'But I've been washing today, Dirk.' I say. 'I've got almost a hundred pieces out on the line.' 'Let's have no excuses, Daisy,' he says gently. 'I'm not criticizing, I'm only disappointed.' disap-pointed.' "When I had influenza he took care of us all for three days, then he got a nurse in at eight dollars a day," the letter goes on. "He was furious; the house was never clean Be Considerate. . . . |
