Laundry has always been my nemesis. I fought the enemy hard over the years but never won. I tried a variety of methods. Bought, labeled and assigned special laundry baskets. I created, laminated and hung an official laundry schedule. Spent days cleaning out the laundry room and catching the laundry up – while watching the rest of my life fall apart. I even tried color coding everyone’s clothing. Nothing worked long term. The Laundry Beast always wins.
The Laundry Beast wins because it doesn’t cry or crawl up in your lap with a fever and fall asleep. It wins because the baby finally fell asleep and I needed a nap. The Laundry Beast wins because it isn’t a friend that needs a babysitter so she can go to the doctor or a much needed mom’s night out with a bestie. Laundry isn’t a horse or dog that that needs a ride to the vet, a last minute trip to the creek for a swim or a fun night catching fire flies and roasting marshmallows. Laundry definitely isn’t a rare evening when the kids fall asleep and your husband is home early from work. But laundry is the easiest thing to skip in favor of more pressing needs and desires. In other words, if the laundry isn’t done, nobody dies.
A few months ago, I was reveling over the belief that I had tamed the laundry beast. Yes, I thought that after twenty-one years of motherhood I had finally claimed victory. It was true that the laundry had been rotating in and out of the laundry room like little soldiers for several months – even being put away in drawers and closets. The kids were even willing participants. I guess they were thrilled to not have to dig through two baskets of unmatched socks each morning just to find a matching pair. Oh, who am I kidding. My kids never even knew socks were supposed to match. Anyhoo, had I really tamed the beast? Nope. Not at all. Turns out that having one child away at college, another temporarily living in Florida and the remainder of the kids all old enough to assist with laundry has huge laundry perks. While I didn’t actually tame the laundry beast, I am celebrating this as a triumphant mom moment.
For all of you that are still living with the beast, I hope you are encouraged knowing you are not alone. Dirty laundry happens.