This confessional is from some years back, when I was a stay-at-home mom and volunteer-at-large. I partially solved this issue by requiring my kids to do their own laundry starting in middle school. I will admit, however, that I still hate doing the laundry.
I hate laundry. Everything about it just works my last good nerve: sifting through it to separate the stinky garments into different colored mounds; searching through the pockets for loose change, gum, or whatever else men and children will shove into pockets, only to forget; waiting for what seems like forever for the washing cycle to complete; finally throwing it in the dryer to have at least one item come out still damp.
But, it’s the folding, hanging, and ironing that really drive me mad!
I have to admit that I feel a sense of accomplishment when that last piece is tucked neatly away in its designated spot. I breathe a deep sigh of relief that the process is complete, that my work is done. I may even do a little dance if no one is around to witness it. I check all the hampers to check out my handiwork. Yep, they’re all clear. I check again just to make sure there are no lingering wash cloths or socks lurking in some hidden corner. Nope, all clear.
Whew!
So, how is it that those same empty hampers are nearly full within hours? How the hell does that happen? Does the laundry reproduce when the lid to the hamper shuts? The answer eludes me. All I know is that the laundry is never truly done. NEVER. And, that’s why I loathe it.
Sometimes, when I am particularly overwhelmed, I sneak a few washable items in the dry cleaning bag. Boy, is it nice to have your clothes come back to you fresh and clean, pressed to perfection, and hung up! I know it costs a lot, and the chemicals are not good for the environment. If I were a good citizen, I would buy only washable items. But, I have to tell you, dry cleaning saves my sanity! Maybe even my marriage. And, I’m quite certain my husband’s job. If he had to go to work in the clothes I ironed, he would be fired. So, the dry cleaning sneak is just one of my dirty little secrets that holds my world together.
You would think from the way I rant and rave that I have 10 really messy children and a sloppy husband. Truth is, I only have two kids, who are actually pretty clean. And, my husband, well, half his clothes are dry clean only. He also wears his jeans and sports shorts twice probably just to shut me up. I don’t know how my friends with 4 and 6 kids hold it all together. Do they have a secret laundry helper? Or, are they just way better women than me? Maybe they do the laundry with love, and I’m just an evil beast for feeling the way I do. I can just see them in their clean houses, sorting, washing, drying, folding, hanging, and ironing with a smile on their faces and a warm fuzzy feeling in their hearts. They probably sniff each fresh out of the dryer piece before they immediately hang or fold it to reduce wrinkles. That is my laundry fantasy. Instead, I am living a nightmare. I have dreams where I am drowning in a sea of stinky workout clothes, stained shirts, and wrinkled dress shirts. And, my family, they are just standing at the edge complaining that they are out of clean socks.
Now that I’ve made a good first impression on you, let me tell you all the things that I don’t hate. I love to cook. I don’t even mind cleaning all the dishes. Sweeping and mopping pose no problems for me. Dusting, vacuuming, scrubbing toilets, you name it, I can handle it. I volunteer at my kids’ school, in my neighborhood, and at my church. I am a giver. I just wish I could give my laundry to someone else!
