84 pairs of socks!
Did you read that?
Read it again!
Once, I folded 84 pairs of socks.
Let that sink in…
I once folded 84 pairs of socks.
One last time…
I folded 84 pairs – PAIRS – of socks ONCE!
Okay, I can breath again. I just wanted to be sure you really let that fact soak in. I want credit – full credit – for that accomplishment! I want you to get the image of what 84 pairs of socks really looks like, of how my living room floor was covered – covered! – in socks. I know Dr. Seuss would come up with a great story line here:
Big socks, little socks,
Black socks and white socks,
Striped socks with fire trucks,
Socks with Santa Clauses and yellow ducks…
Yeah see, I am no Dr. Seuss. My poetry leaves a little something to be desired as do my laundering skills, but I’m putting it all out there because once again, I’m linking up with Charity at The Wounded Dove for a Leave Your Perfect At The Door #GoodEnoughMom Tuesday, and today’s topic, in case you haven’t guessed, is:
I could write volumes on laundry.
Believe it or not, it’s a topic I’ve been wanting to write about for a while. I think I’ve been emotionally scarred by that day (Do I also need to explain that it was one of the few days that ALL five of my boys were out of the house? Do I need to question the sanity (or the get-a-life factor?) of someone who spends an entire precious day alone folding 84 PAIRS of socks in front of sappy Lifetime movies?)
Actually, I’m pretty good about DOING laundry; it’s the folding and putting away that gets us in trouble. The kids always have clean (but wrinkled!) clothes, even in the dead of winter when clothes are bigger and heavier and take up more room, even when I have to do two loads of laundry every day or risk a child being buried beneath swarms of laundry!
I’m now used to the kids telling me they need the uniform they wore today, first thing tomorrow morning because they have back-to-back games. I now look forward to that dreaded buzzer going off at midnight telling me it’s time to switch loads so I can finally go to bed. I am even getting used to (although still not happy about!) when one of my boys tells me at say 10pm, “Oh by the way mom, this uniform has been buried under my bed for the last week, but I need it before school tomorrow.”
To give credit where it is due though, I have to say, Matt is a laundry king!
I thank God for him and the number of times he switches the laundry on his own or gets his own stuff into the laundry because he knows he had one of those back to back games.
On the other hand, I’m not even sure Troy knows we have a washing machine. I think he still believes the Laundry Fairy comes in the middle of the night and POOF he’s all set. College will be an experience for him next year! <Part of me snickers evilly at the thought of him doing his own laundry at college, and I question my Mother’s heart at moments like these!>
How can you raise kids basically the same and have them be so different and still Love them all equally?
God is Good!
But this is about ME and MY laundry woes so moving on…
There are some things only a Mother will understand, and please, tell me I am NOT the only one out here who has sunk to these levels (can I really admit this???)
I have stuck my nose in a random sock left on the floor or, worse, in a pair of crumpled underwear, hoping to find it’s clean and avoid washing, drying, and folding one more thing
And then I hear my mind scream:
Really??? It’s a sock!
How much room could a sock take up in the laundry???
Just wash it!
The number of times I have sniffed a clean sock (or even a pair of underwear, but I try to not think about that!) do not erase the trauma (or life support needed) for the times I have been wrong and inhaled deeply from the fibers of a sock that has been worn by a teenage boy who has spent hours playing whatever sport is going on at the time, running up and down whatever muddy field he was on, in socks that now smell like something the Voyageurs would have used to keep black flies away.
Charity said, “Laundry is like your favorite dog. No matter where you go or how long you take, she’ll be waiting for you when you get back.”
In my case though, it’s more like “wet dog.”
Have you ever smelled wet dog?
My kids’ socks are far worse.
And yet I continue to do this disgusting sniffing thing.
And I won’t discuss underwear further.
There’d be trauma on many levels.
This post has gotten long enough, and I haven’t even gotten mentioned posts like God Doesn’t Want You Mixing Dirty Laundry with the Clean Laundry or My Kids Go With Their Father, A Single Mother’s Wild Weekend Plans
Or what I really wanted to get to, quick recaps of stories like the times when I opened the washing machine door only to have…
Well, actually, there are a lot of little stories I long to tell about laundry, but, as I said, this post has gotten long enough already. I hope you’ll join me tomorrow for more of my laundry tales.
Who knew laundry would take two days?
Experience tells me, I should have known!
Link to Part II Laundry Stories (continued).
Have any laundry stories to share? Leave yours in the comments or head over to Charity’s link-up and join us!