I Stand Here Ironing

I Stand Here Ironing Summary | Detailed Summary

The mother of a 19-year-old girl reflects on her daughter's childhood while she does the ironing. Her thoughts are prompted by the request of a stranger, perhaps a teacher or counselor, who perceives the daughter, Emily, to be in need of help. The potential helper has asked the mother to "come in" to discuss her daughter's needs, and the mother imagines the conversation that might occur at this meeting as she irons.

She begins by questioning what good it will do to discuss her daughter with this interested stranger. She wonders why anyone would think that she has a key to Emily's psyche just because she is her mother. The mother also wonders where she is supposed to find the time to analyze the relative importance of occurrences in Emily's upbringing. If she begins to reflect, she knows something will interrupt her: the duties of her daily life, the needs of her other children, the practical requirements of keeping a house. After noting the uselessness of the request and the problems associated with it, however, she does make a start.

The mother's reflections begin with the memory of how beautiful Emily had been as a baby. She makes a conversational aside in the imagined conversation to comment that it might be difficult for a person who sees Emily now to understand that her current, lovely appearance came only after years in which the girl thought herself ugly and worried about how she looked.

Her mother remembers that Emily would look at her baby pictures repeatedly, demanding that her mother tell her what a beautiful baby she had been. Her mother always assured her that she would be beautiful again; and that she was now, as well, for those who took the time to see her inner beauty. No one could see it then, however, not even her mother.

The mother continues by mentioning, somewhat to her surprise, that she had breast-fed Emily as she had all her other children. With Emily, however, she was a new mother with her first child, and she followed the recommendations in books by so-called experts, feeding her according to a strict time schedule. She goes on to discuss Emily's babyhood: how she loved movement, color, light, textures and music, how she experienced her days in "ecstasy."

Everything changed when Emily was eight months old, and her mother had to go to work during the day. It was during the Depression in the 1930s, and Emily's father had left the family because he could not stand sharing their poverty. There were no public relief programs at the time, so the mother was forced to put her daughter into the care of a downstairs neighbor woman, for whom the baby girl was not the "miracle" her mother felt her to be.

During this period, the mother would run home after work to be with her daughter, who would begin to cry as soon as she saw her. The mother then took a job at night so she could be with her daughter during the day, and things improved for a while, but soon she was forced to take her baby to the father's parents and leave her there because she could not support her.

It took a long time for the mother to raise the money necessary to bring her daughter home, and when she had finally raised the money, Emily caught chickenpox at the same time and could not travel. When she rejoined her mother at the age of two, Emily was almost unrecognizable, having taken on the quick and nervous characteristics of her father. She had pockmarks on her face from the chickenpox, as well.

Because she was two years old, the experts thought she was old enough to go to nursery school, and her mother really had no choice, since there was no one to care for Emily while she was at work. Looking back on the decision to put her into the nursery school, the mother acknowledges that she sensed at the time that the environment was less than supportive for the children who went there. She remembers how a teacher had belittled a boy who was afraid to go outside during recess and how Emily disliked going there. Emily never cried when she was left at the school as many of the other children did, but she did try to find reasons to stay home. She never protested or rebelled directly, however, and her mother wonders what effect this "demand" to be good had on her daughter as a child. The mother remembers that, during this period of their lives, a neighbor told her that she should smile at Emily more. She remembered this remark when she had her other children and put the suggestion into action, but it was too late for Emily.

Now, Emily has grown into a young woman who does not smile easily, but she has learned to use the flexibility of her face to act out comedies or pantomimes on stage, tapping into a talent recognized by everyone who sees her.

The mother wonders where this talent for comedy comes from. It certainly was not evident when Emily returned to her after the mother had remarried, and the girl had to adjust to a new father. The mother believes this was a better time for all of them, except for the occasions when she and her new husband went out, leaving Emily alone because they thought she was old enough. Then Emily would demand to know when they would be home and if they would be back soon. Once, they returned to find her still awake, the front door wide open and the clock on the floor in the hall. Emily had opened the front door to make it easier for them to come home. She admonished them, saying they did not come back soon after all, and the clock had scared her when it "talked loud" while they were gone.

In another memory, the mother recalls that Emily told her the clock "talked loud" the night she went to the hospital to have her second daughter, Susan. Emily had a bad fever from measles at the time, but she was aware of everything that happened during the week her mother was gone and during the week, she was not allowed to come near her mother and the new baby because of her illness.

After getting measles, Emily never fully recovered. She stayed very thin and did not want to eat. She had nightmares every night, and when she would call out for her mother, the mother never went to comfort her unless she had to be up to tend to the new baby anyway. Now, the mother comments, when she hears Emily being restless in the night and goes to check on her, Emily just tells her to go back to bed, that she is fine.

Because of her failure to recover, experts at a clinic convinced Emily's mother to send her away to a convalescent home to get well. They said she would have better food and care there and that the mother would be free to focus her attention on the new baby. The mother notes that children are still sent to this home. She comments that the home looks good in pictures, but they never show the children. When Emily was sent there, all the girls were required to wear white dresses with red bows, and the boys had to wear white suits with red ties.

Parents could visit their children every other Sunday, unless they were told otherwise. Emily's parents were not permitted to visit for six weeks. When they were finally allowed to see her, they had to follow the institution's rules: no "contamination by parental germs or physical contact." To accomplish this, the children stood on a second-story balcony, and the parents stood on the ground below. Everyone had to yell to be heard. Emily usually stood holding the hand of a smaller girl whose parents never came to visit her. After a while, Emily was alone again. They had moved the little girl to another cottage, Emily yelled down to her parents. She said the authorities at the home "don't want you to love anybody here."

Emily wrote a letter home every week as required. Her letters were riddled with spelling errors and filled with hope for the award of a star if the letter was well written. Her mother remembers that Emily never received a star.

Emily did not do well at the convalescent home. She hated the food and she was not allowed to keep any of the letters her family wrote to her. After eight months, her mother was allowed to take her home, chiefly because the girl had not gained as much weight as the experts had expected.

The mother recalls how Emily began to worry about her appearance. The girl was dark and thin at a time when little girls were expected to look chubby and blonde like Shirley Temple. Emily had a few friends, but none ever came to the house; maybe because they moved so many times, her mother thinks. Emily once stole money from her mother's purse to buy candy for a boy she loved, but he still preferred another girl despite her efforts to please him. Her mother remembers the pain she felt when Emily asked her why this happened.

Emily was a slow and conscientious learner in school at a time when teachers favored quickness and glib answers. She worried about school and was always trying to catch up to the other students. She was absent often, sometimes because of an illness - Emily had asthma - but sometimes because her mother just wanted to keep her home to be with her and her younger daughter, Susan. Her mother remembers that Emily's asthmatic breathing filled the house with a "curiously tranquil sound."

The days on which Emily stayed home from school were the only times she and Susan enjoyed a peaceful relationship. In general, there was a "corroding resentment" on the part of Emily toward her younger sister. Susan was everything that Emily was not: blonde, chubby, quick thinking, and confident. Susan was drawn to Emily's things and would often misplace them or break them. Susan would entertain company with jokes and riddles Emily had taught her and never gave Emily credit for them. Although five years younger, Susan was almost even with Emily in terms of physical development. The mother comments that she was glad Emily developed slowly because the girl was too vulnerable to withstand the adolescent world of sexual competition.

In the midst of her recollections, as she had predicted, the mother must see to her small son, Ronnie, who is still in diapers. She notes that the cry of a child in need is rare in her life now that her childbearing years are nearly over. She cuddles with Ronnie for a while, watching the lights of the city, and he speaks a family word meaning "comfort" as he snuggles next to her. The mother remembers that Emily had invented the word - shoogily - and Ronnie's inheritance of it represents one of the ways Emily has put her "seal" on the family.

During the years of World War II, the mother had no time for Emily. She had four smaller children, and Emily had to help her take care of them and the house. The girl had to do her schoolwork, as well, and the smaller children were always writing on her papers or misplacing her books, making it more difficult for her. Emily could only do homework late at night when they were asleep. She attended a very large school where her individuality was not recognized, where she struggled to keep up, and where she was always unprepared for class. She worried over her lessons each night, while her mother ironed or prepared food or wrote to her husband, who was away at the war. During this period, Emily developed a huge appetite for food; her appetite became legendary in the family.

To entertain her mother during this difficult period, Emily would sometimes imitate an event that happened at school. She was good at it, showing a real talent for comedy, so her mother encouraged her to enter an amateur show at the school. Emily decides to enter, and to her surprise, she wins first prize. She tells her mother that the audience loved her and applauded her act for a long time. Suddenly, Emily became "somebody" and she was asked to perform in other venues. Her mother remembers that she did not recognize Emily the first time she watched her perform: the girl on stage had so much control and such a comedic talent. People told the mother that she should "do something" about her daughter's gift, but what could she do without money or knowing how to start? She remembers that she had to leave it all to Emily, who was forced to handle it by herself. Her talent could end up being stifled within her as easily as it could grow, the mother thinks.

As the mother reflects on her daughter's history, Emily returns home and runs up the stairs. The mother can tell that Emily is happy at this moment, so whatever had prompted the concern that led to the request for her to "come in" did not happen on this day. Emily is in a communicative mood and jokes with her mother about the way she is always ironing.

The mother watches her and realizes how beautiful her daughter has become. She wonders again, what prompted a stranger's concerns. She believes that Emily is capable of finding her own way.

As Emily goes up to bed, she says she does not want to be awakened early with the rest of the family. When her mother asks her about the mid-term exams she is scheduled to take the next day, Emily dismisses the thought casually, saying that, in a few years' time, when everyone is dead, the tests will not matter at all. Her mother knows that Emily has said this kind of thing before, but because she has been thinking so much about the past and has recognized the way it weighs on both her and her daughter, she cannot stand to hear this thought on this particular night.

The mother realizes that she will never be able to understand everything about Emily or how she has come to be the person she is. She can list events and reflect on memories, but these will not provide an answer to the riddle that is Emily. The mother understands that she has become wise too late and that Emily was forced to learn to rely on herself and to keep many things inside her. The mother decides that Emily is a child of "her age, of depression, of war, of fear."

Concluding the imaginary conversation she has been having with the person who asked her to "come in," the mother instructs this stranger just to let Emily be. She acknowledges that, perhaps, Emily will not fulfill all of her potential - perhaps no one does - but she is likely to fulfill some of it, and that will be enough.

The mother only asks one thing for her daughter, the problem child: that she will know and find ways to help her understand that she is more than someone who must merely "fit in" or be helpless before the forces of life.