Tuesday, September 9, 2008


I would like to throw a little fit today, if I may, about my laundry. The above picture is not from my home, I stole it from Google, mostly because I am too lazy to go in and take a picture of my own laundry room, plus it's just down right embarrassing, but just look at that picture and double it and you will know about how much laundry is in there now. I do believe that laundry comes from another planet. You know, the plant of Multiplifier? I swear that my laundry pile grows in the night. Oh, wait, except for the socks. I'm quite sure there are little gremlins that steal one sock from each pair, just to be cruel. Otherwise, the rest just doubles itself every night while I am innocently sleeping.

All joking aside, I do know how my laundry grows. Yesterday my middle child who shall remain nameless, changed his clothes 4 times. Yep, 4 times. And the worst part is that they were dirty in some way so I couldn't just hang them back up. He's a boy. He plays and plays and forgets to go potty when he should, so a tad bit of leakage happens...new clothes. He's eating jello and a drop decides to jump off the spoon, no, excuse me, "wiggle" off the spoon and land on his shirt then run down to his pants. Oh, and of course if we change the pants, we must change the underwear, otherwise it would "not be fair" to the underwear. Not quite sure what that means, but that's what was said.

Now, let's move on to my oldest. He does the exact same thing for pretty much the same reason. The thing is, I don't see this all happening. Otherwise, when there is dirt on the shirt, I would take a wet wipe, clean it off and tell them to move along because no one can see them but me at the moment and I think they are cute no matter what. But that's not how it works. They change, then go about their business in the playroom or their bedroom and after a couple of hours I notice and ask where their blue shorts went and why they are wearing a winter sweater in July. They give me their perfectly reasonable explanation and that is how my laundry piles up.

But wait! I haven't mentioned my youngest. That child refuses to wear clothes while at home. He runs around in his underwear and occasional pull-up if he can't find any clean underwear. This is not too bad, at least he's not changing his clothes all day...but...every time he goes potty, he must change his underwear. I've almost gotten him broken of this habit, but I'm still having some difficulty keeping up with his underwear washing.

So, why am I blogging and whining about laundry? Didn't I just say I have an entire laundry room flowing with the stuff? I'm stalling, of course. Trying to get out of going in and starting the whole process again. Don't get me wrong, I love washing the clothes. It's the sorting, folding, hanging, and putting away that I hate. The boys help some. They hang their shirts and put away their underwear (you do realize that every time I type underwear, the little boys reading this rant laugh hysterically), but it's still a lot of work. Especially hunting down those darn gremlins and wrestling my socks back.

There you have it. My latest rant. I'm sure that nobody out there can relate. (sarcasm) I wish you all well, and I'm off to go clean the skids out of 4 boys shorts. (o;

1 comment:

Katharine said...

I loathe laundry with a deep passion. Loathe it. There are spiders in the basement where the washer and dryer are, you have to go OUTSIDE to get to the basement which is NO fun in winter, and I just hate it in general. It's the two of us and the animals and we, I mean I, do about 4 loads a week. I would seriously have a nervous breakdown if I had to do more.