If “Mom” is your name, then laundry is your game, and this mom of three is taking a beating. We arrived home from an eight-day trip on Saturday. At the start of yesterday, I still had clothes everywhere! I can list excuses, but they do no good. As Melanie put it yesterday, “I just want to find the clothes I want to wear. They are somewhere! Right, Mommy?!” They sure are somewhere in the madness. Jeremy ran two large loads of laundry on Sunday before he left for work that night. His clothes were gone. Our clothes piled back on top of a suitcase.
I remember a time, long ago, when my oldest was just a little baby. I did a load of laundry every day. One day, whites. The next day, darks. They were folded hot and fresh from the dryer and promptly escorted to their home. Then we moved, had another baby, moved again, had another baby, and now we seem to be back to our bad bad laundry habits. We got married in college. We had a two bedroom condo. One bed was ours, and the guest room bed belonged to our clothes. We took the clothes from the dryer in the basement and dumped them on the bed. Every morning, we raced around rummaging for what we needed, plummeted the two flights of stairs to the basement dryer to “fluff” before we ran out of the house. The only time those clothes saw a hanger or dresser drawer was when company came into town and we needed the bed for a higher purpose. I resigned myself to tackle laundry mountain. It took me most of two days battling my lack of motivation, and now it is done. Laundry – clean – folded – and put away!