Tonight I put on clean pajamas. And I know, that it’s a guarantee that I will be spit up on. Very soon. But these clean jammies sure feel good. Hey, my body’s even pretty clean, too.
The thing is, there are days that I feel threatened by the laundry. There always are piles of dirty laundry. And often there are baskets full of folded laundry yet to be put away and clothes hanging to dry from the shower racks. And then there are the clothes on the bodies of my children, which are kept clean for approximately 2.5 seconds after being donned. And often they are spilled on, peed on or (and?) drooled on in a matter of moments, too. It’s NEVER ENDING.
But here’s the thing: I’m trying to accept it. Yup. It’s taken me years, really. But I’ve finally realized that no matter what I do, I will never have a complete hold on the laundry situation. I will continue to try to be relatively aware of the status of each child’s wardrobe needs (i.e., that the same pair of underwear be worn a maximum of two days in a row), but that’s it. No more planning the day around the laundry (which we hang outside nine months of the year, so it’s easy to get obsessed with the weather and which load comes first: the longer-to-dry towels or the worn-out cotton T-shirts that dry in one breezy breath on the line.) I will try to see beyond the piles of clothes to the faces of my children. I will try not to be grumpy about the dirty towels on the floor and the sheets that could use a bottle-and-half worth of bleach. What’s the use? There’s going to be spit up for a while longer. And there’s always going to be messes. It’s time to admit it and move on.
Maybe this is the beginning. Next up? Dishes. And trash. And recycling. And toys. What do I do about the toys?
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You hang tight and wait for the arrival of your marvelous new storage unit from IKEA! Da Dum. Yes! An inanimate object CAN change your life!