Posted on: Friday, November 5, 2004

COMMENTARY
Ironing doesn't seem so extreme

By Annette Clifford
Gannett News Service

There's a new guy-sport craze, imported from the United Kingdom that might reassure folks who think kids today — boys in particular — are disheveled, sloppy and unable to dress appropriately.

It's called extreme ironing, and it's not about pumping the stuff in the gym.

It's about getting those shirt cuffs, collars and trouser pleats crisp under adverse conditions, such as while kayaking, skiing, cliff-jumping or hanging upside down from a tree branch.

What a yawner.

Extreme ironing is obviously mostly a spoof sport, but can't they come up with something a little bit more challenging?

Take getting one of those easy-iron-on decal patches to actually attach — in a manner that will last more than five minutes — to a team or scout uniform before you bolt out the door to the game or pack meeting.

Now there's a sporting event that takes true skill and determination.

What about ironing children's dress clothes on damp towels on the floor in hotel rooms before fancy family gatherings while kids bounce off the beds, four walls and ceiling?

What about getting a child who doesn't "care" about picture day to take off the shirt he insists on wearing so you can make it a bit presentable in the 90 seconds left before the school bell rings?

These are the ironing tasks of the true champs.

Come to think of it, there are any number of extreme sports parents routinely engage in without getting the least bit of credit, not to mention any lucrative sponsorships from spray-starch companies.

There's extreme vacuuming, the kind practiced after the birthday party sleepover and before the in-laws arrive with little notice from out of town.

Extreme wiping: Proficiency in this sport must be demonstrated on little noses, faces and backsides, smeary countertops, windows and mirrors, smudgy walls and spattered floors.

Parents practice this sport nonstop in all climates and weather conditions, especially during spells of intestinal distress in the ranks.

Extreme bending over. Parents gear up for this sport in the crib years, perfect it in the please-pick-me-up toddler years, then start doing it — over backward — when the kids develop teenage temperaments.

Extreme mopping. See intestinal distress, above.

Extreme worrying. Practice begins when you're discharged from the maternity ward, new baby in your arms — if not sooner — and competitions reoccur for the next 40 years.

Extreme listening: Training for this sport event starts with frequent practice pressing the ear to the monitor or tiptoeing up to the nursery door to make sure the baby is still breathing.

Heavy listening exercises continue when late-night noises inspire parental sprints to make sure bad guys aren't breaking into the house and kids aren't sleepwalking near the stairs.

Later, parents hone their extreme listening skills with wee-hour drills of waiting for teenagers to come home before curfew.

As an extra challenge, some specialize in extreme-listening-without-seeming-to-be-intrusive events, held when kids talk on the phone to new, unknown "friends" or when you hear a kid say, "Shhh, I think Mom's coming."

And then there's extreme laughing, spurred by goofy infant smiles, surprising baby noises, little kids' versions of the English language, tweeners' jokes, teens' candid observations, and other funny moments of family life.