Last week, my son Jack, walked by the laundry in our hallway and said,
"Mom, it's so funny....you keep doing laundry but the pile never goes down."
He was grinning.
I was not. I said, "That's not funny."
"It is a little."
"No. It isn't."
Because it is never funny when you do something endlessly and see little or no improvement.
Yesterday I walked by the laundry to see a three foot pile of dirty towels.
I yelled out, "Who just brought all those dirty towels?"
Jack said, "Me. I found them under my bed."
How does one stuff a small Everest of towels under one's bed?
And I have decided that the children are all conspiring against me.
In their toddler years, before I realized they could communicate,
they held a forum and said,
"Let's play a game with Mom. It's called Fill The Laundry Basket. No matter what-
let's never let the laundry basket get all the way empty. Make sure there is at least one
small sock in the bottom. It'll be fun to watch the faces she makes when she sees all the clothes!"
And over these long years they have watched my demise.
I believe they have achieved it by never actually putting away their clean clothes.
They leave them on the floor or throw them in the closet and then a few days later they think,
"Wow. That has been on the floor a long time. I think it is dirty."
So it goes back into the hamper.
I see it and think, "Man, didn't I just wash that?"
I am not losing my mind...because I did.
But the children swear on their best toys that, yes, they really did wear it and it is filthy.
So I have taken to smelling the clothes to see if they are clean.
And sometimes they are and I have a moment of triumph when I catch a whiff of lovely
fabric softener and I hang them up and think, "See! It is clean! I am right."
And sometimes I smell things that no one should ever smell.
Ever.
And I weep a little. Because I feel sorry for myself. And my nose.
So then I stop smelling things for a while and just wash everything on faith that it
actually is dirty.
But this week, I am getting the wash done. If only for a day.
And if the children have to walk around naked for a while just so they don't dirty any clothes,
so be it.
I am believing for a laundry miracle.
If you hear shouts of laughter and cries of joy coming from Redwood City
you will know all of my Christmas dreams have come true.
At least until tomorrow.
2 comments:
As the laundry master in our house, I cry "Solidarity," (whatever that means). While doing the laundry, I find clean rolled socks in the hamper that were never worn and coats that have fallen off hangers into the hamper that are not dirty. No, Jack, it is not funny. Makes me want to put myself on time-out or run to the adult orphanage.
I washed clothes for 6 kids, all their growing up years . . and had no idea that anyone else went through this type of thing. I guess I thought my case was unique. So good to hear you k'vetch about it! I can totally identify with your post!
RETA@ http://evenhaazer.blogspot.com
Post a Comment