I shall not air my dirty laundry…. because I have none!!!
Whaaaaaaaat?! The truly unimaginable, incrdibley astonishing and most magnificent victory has been achieved. I have finished all of the laundry in our house. The only dirty laundry to air would be the clothes on our bodies, but then we would be naked and that would be inappropriate! So I shall claim victory in the Battle of Laundry. This day shall go down in the record book of Housekeeping History (if there was such a book); I shall look back on today with pride in my dedication and endurance; today shall be known as “Tide Pride” day (Tide with Febreeze is my detergent of choice).
I once would have thought that finishing all the laundry was a simple and silly task, but alas my enterance into motherhood x 3 has raised the chore to a whole new level…
Three young children – ages 6, 5, and 3 years. No appreciation for the work it takes to have clean clothes to wear on a daily basis.
Husband – works out every morning, then goes to work with airplanes and comes home smelling like a combination of man smell and jet fuel (but looking very handsome and sweet as can be).
Youngest: Continues to underestimate the effectiveness of napkins and wipes his mouth on his shirt and his hands on his shorts. It’s a sneaky tactic and happens so fast… before I can fling a napkin in his direction he has already struck.
Middlest: Plays hard and attracts dirt. All over. Shirt/Shorts/Socks/Undies. This tactic is pretty much based on consistancy. Every day, all over. No matter where we go, he comes back dirty.
Oldest: A tricky one, this one. She’s very tidy. Hmmmmm… but she sweats like her momma and gets super stinky! From the looks of it she’s not an enemy to worry about… until you get close and then you realize… those pajamas must be washed immediately. Also, this one just started to clean her room. Which I just realized means shove all her clothes (dirty and clean) under her bed. Gasp! The deception! The trickery! The stealth!
Husband: The gym bag. I didn’t see that dirty laundry coming. It wasn’t in the house. It was in the bag in the trunk of his car until….. it was in the laundry room innocently placed in front of the washing machine. Noooooooooo. I was blindsided.
The Front: I decided this morning when I woke up that today would be the day. It was time to battle this enemy, go toe to toe, no holds bar, look the laundry in the eye and tell it who was boss. It was go time. I started early… first load in before my coffee. It was a sacrifice I had to make. But I won that first battle and knew I couldn’t let up. As soon as I wrenched those twisted, mangled clothes from the washing machine and into the dryer I didn’t hesitate. I threw in the dryer sheet, hit the power button, and without stopping to think twice, I put in the next load. I opted for two back-to-back loads of kids clothes. Those are brutal. So many pieces. So many tiny socks to match. I got through those loads though, I did. Three casualties… all being un-matched socks… I would have to deal with those later. I didn’t have time to stop and look, instead I turned to the towels and got those going. Shock and awe, my friends! Shock and awe. I was re-energized with the simplicity of folding large pieces of rectangular terry cloth over and over and over again. I made a nice neat stack… they were all the same size. It was amazing. (No. No it was not…. but it was the highlight of this day of laundry.) One last load of kiddo clothes, followed by two loads of adult clothes. I found my tempo… clothes to the dryer/dryer sheet/start/load washer/detergent/start. There was no stopping me. I was a machine. I managed to keep up my pace and carry my momentum throughout the day. I even made it to the gym for a spinning class (the spin cycle for my last load was happening at the same time… irony, no?!). And then…. it came to the true turning point of this war… I put the clothes away! It was a final blow. Those clothes could have stayed in their baskets only to get pulled out and worn without ever making it to the drawers. But no. I wanted to see this fight to the end. To the bitter end. And as I closed that last drawer of undies I raised my hands in victory… clamped them together over my head and shook them like an old-fashioned champion. (If only I had had a soundtrack playing I would have closed that last drawer in slow motion for my epic finish.)
And there you have it. No dirty laundry to air in this house. None. Until tomorrow.
(P.S. A whole blog post on laundry?! Yes. That is how big of a deal this is to me!)