Monday, November 18, 2013

What to do when your head is going to explode.

I would like to go on a public forum and announce that this past weekend I did two weeks worth of laundry for each member of my family. Folded it, and put it all away neatly while organizing all the color.   I made this announcement at home and nobody seemed to care, despite my crescendo of this proclamation in various rooms of the house.

Unless you do something like feed the needy or clean up litter it is not considered note worthy. Especially when you are doing both of those things in your own home.
This is going to be the type of blog posts my husband dislikes. Strongly.  I am not trying to make this a husband-bashing-angry-mama  post.  To his credit, he was working on a project all weekend.  My husband is a very good project inventor. He creates projects that include some type of lumber that I am clueless about.  And will take him exactly until 9:30 PM on Sunday night to complete.

I insisted that he took our youngest one with him to the store so I could fold in peace. That is all I asked.  But upon returning my 3 year old proudly came up to me and said " Mommy we got you your favorite thing at the tore (he is still working on his "s's") I was hoping for a venti coffee when I asked him what it was. "Wood! Big Big Wood" "Did Daddy tell you to say that?" " Yep!" and he was off.
I really thought that maybe my husband was offering a little gift of coffee to acknowledge the pain staking work of folding 400 pairs of min-boxer shorts.

This made me mad.

So I made sure to pick up the two empty laundry baskets, a stack of folded towels and teeter downstairs so Don could see me struggling.  The problem with this scene is that he knows I love Crossfit, attend regularly,  and can lift him if I wanted to. He isn't buying the struggle, so he laughs.

This made me really mad.

Sure enough, he had purchased a bunch of really big wood.  The pun was intended however.   But I can assure you, really big wood is NOT my favorite thing and NOT going to be my favorite thing for a really long time.   I explained that I wasn't even half way through my Mount Elliott of laundry and he explained that next time "we" shouldn't let it get so bad. And also reminded me that the boys do their own laundry.

This made me really really mad.

Maybe it was the use of "we" or the fact that he really believes that our 10. 9, 6 and 3 year old,  do their own laundry.  Yes, they help by throwing a pair of socks worn for 3 minutes into their hamper, and they also put the laundry into the washer. But who carries their hamper down, measures the detergent  (so it isn't the size of the venti coffee I wanted and didn't get).   That would be Moi.
If I let our 3 year old do his own laundry it would be Wednesday before he would get everything into the washer.  The truth is, it is faster to do it myself.

I decided to retreat back to our boys room and fold even more socks.  I found that systematically doing something with my hands occupied them and  kept me from wrapping them around Don's neck.
And that is what I did to keep my head from exploding. 

It actually helped.  As I searched for matching socks and saw the pile of pairs grow, and the pile of clean laundry decrease, it actually made me feel accomplished.  Proud even.  When I became a parent I never thought of the laundry.  Of course, I wouldn't change anything, well maybe live in a warmer climate where they wear flip flops all day.

But if you happen to see my boys, a take a look at their socks. They may match, or they may not, but know that someone who loves them very much washed them and took care to make sure their toes wouldn't get cold. Sometimes, (well, most of the time) I feel like I'm wasting away crucial quality moments of my life on mundane tasks. Doing laundry may not be the moment that defines me as a mother or a moment that anyone remembers but not all puzzle pieces are the exciting ones, some are just the background, but all are important to complete the picture.

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