I am cheap. Well, not cheap. But I am thrifty. I do not like to spend a dollar if a dollar does not need to be spent. When I do spend a dollar, I make sure it counts in quality and quantity. IF I have to spend it. I spread this thriftiness across groceries (quality over quantity), clothing (quality over quantity), shoes (quality over quantity), make-up (quality over quantity), and so on…

Which all makes for a poorly-dressed wife. Because clothes age, become misshapen, and well, sadly, a body changes.
So I am spending money. I am still shopping wisely, oh so wisely. And I am trying to buy as I go rather than in response to a need or a moment. And Husband appreciates this.

Husband works very hard and without stopping for our family. It is my responsibility to look after what he brings home to us. In all areas of homemaking including clothing myself and the children. We represent him when we are seen in the community and we should represent him well. Labels don’t matter. But cleanliness and orderliness do matter. Not just for the children, but for me.

It used to be that I said, “What difference does it make if I am ragged? There are so many kids and they’re so cute and stair-stepped that everyone’s looking at them.” But it wasn’t true. If I look like death warmed over, what does that say about the efficiency of our home? Or of my ability to run our home? I’m not talking about perfection or even caring significantly about what others think. It is true, however, that with Husband in the business community that there are often people who know us and we don’t know them. And I want those people to have the confidence in Husband as a whole, not just in one facet of his life.

And what does it say to Husband when he comes home to a ragged wife? How have I taken the time he provides for me and used it wisely? Tonight was one such night. Husband was able to get home and help with some child-shuttling. I had spent my day teaching, cooking, and baking. All of which were noble. I even got in a treadmill workout. My clothes were set by the shower ready for me to be dressed clean and presentable when I found out he was in town already. I had no time. So he came home to a ragged wife. He knows this happens, but I don’t want it to happen often. And when he returns, I won’t be ragged.

I don’t know if Husband has noticed, but last week I threw out some favorite t-shirts, nightshirts, and sweat pants that should have been thrown out long ago. They were ripped, torn, worn, and/or had a smell of their own that was not bad but still was not welcoming. I don’t want to be ragged. It will take me time to replace those things as I am a cautious shopper, but I will replace them. I will spend the money to do so. And Husband will be please.
I feed my Husband refreshed, welcoming arms rather than worn, torn, ragged arms.

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