How to Pretend You're Molly Mormon
Note: Molly Mormon is what we not-so-nicely call the stereotypical LDS woman. Peter Priesthood is the male counterpart. In this article, we are focusing on the domestic part of the definition.
While living in Utah, my doctor had to inform me that making homemade bread and cookies was not a commandment. I thought it was. It doesn’t take a new member long to think that all LDS women can cook, clean, raise perfect children, sew, and do all those other domestic sorts of things. I can’t do any of them, but I have a good excuse. I am a convert. I have come to the conclusion that it takes at least two or three generations for the domestic Molly Mormon gene to kick in.
When I lived for a time in Utah, I did learn to bake bread, however. I think they insert the bread baking gene into the church drinking fountains there, so it was unavoidable. My children, who are second generation members on my side and fourth generation on my husband’s side of the family, have a few of the appropriate genes, but they are rather unreliable, perhaps due to my new-convert gene corruption.
Since I am not domestic, and not, at this age, likely to become domestic anytime soon, I have developed a few coping skills to help me to survive in a world where I am supposed to be ready for a visiting teacher to drop by on a moment’s notice. On the other hand, my current visiting teacher has known me long enough to know better!
1. Have a closet that you can throw everything into at a moment’s notice. This is essential. When someone calls and says she is on her way, train your children to rush into the room and frantically shove everything into the closet. Real Molly Mormons won’t be fooled, because they have the ability to see into those closets with x-ray eyes, but they might admire you for trying. There are two hazards to this method. First, you have to actually train the children in the art of doing this. Secondly, it is more fun to throw things into that closet than it is to take things back out. One day you will need the closet, but when you open the door, two years worth of toys, dishes and possibly lost children will come tumbling out. Then you’ll just have to post a quarantined sign on your door and trust your expected guest to believe you forgot you were quarantined.
2. Learn how to cook one perfect meal. I have not actually tried this, you understand, but I’m planning to. It has to be something that you can’t mess up, that you will always have the ingredients for, and that works for either company or compassionate service meals. Find someone competent to teach you how to make it and then practice it again and again. Because you only know how to cook one meal, you must make certain you never have the same person to dinner twice. Missionaries are excluded from this rule, since they will eat anything, and really prefer hamburgers and french fries to fancy food anyway. Even I can make hamburgers!
3. When asked to bring refreshments, don’t even try to make cookies. Even if you know how to make them on normal occasions, they will look or taste weird just because other people will need to eat them. Bring ice cream. The first time I did this, the hostess smiled and said, “That was a good choice. Now let’s just do one little thing to make it look like you did it because you prefer ice cream to cookies.” She added these fancy little store cookies and sprinkled cute things over each bowl. Now that I know the secret, I always bring ice cream to meetings. I live in California, where it’s usually pretty warm, so if you're in Alaska or anyplace where it snows, you will have to work out your own solution.
4. Only hang out with people who are as undomestic as you are. I once knew a woman who asked all her friends to sign a pledge that they would keep their houses messy and send their children to church with chocolate on their faces. Her theory was that if we all did it, her husband would really believe he was being unreasonable. If you have a friend you truly love, and she insists on being neat and tidy, you will either have to be sure she can cope...or you will always have to go to her house. I actually did have a domestic friend once. She had the strength of character not to wash a dish or dust a table when she came to my house, and didn’t even look like she wanted to, although I know she did. However, such friends are rare, so if you find one, keep her.
There is another option. You could develop a sense of humor and decide you don’t want to be domestic and don’t care who knows it. The middle part is easy enough. The other parts take strength of character.
Or you could just become domestic, but we don’t want to talk about that option.
-Terrie Lynn Bittner
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