It’s a never ending cycle.
Throw it in a basket.
Maybe take it upstairs. If you’re lucky you have a main floor laundry.
Sometimes you have to scramble 2 minutes before needing to leave to find the matching sock for the three year old and oh wait..the baby is only in a diaper….
Sounds normal, huh?
A few weeks ago as I stared at all of the mounds of laundry that needed folded I freaked out. They had sat there for days. FOUR mother loving baskets.
But, both kids needed attention. In the right corner coming in at 20 pounds…. a gassy 5 month old, and in the other 38 pounds of jealous, potty training 3 year old who has lost all ability to listen. And in the middle, I stood. Defeated. On the tail end of a 48. Our ring – 4 corners made of full laundry baskets.
I had been trying to get to these sorted and folded all day. ALL. DAY. I mean. It got washed. Then I would come up to a hot mess. Toddler meltdown, diaper blowout. It all runs together. 12 or so episodes of Sesame Street does that to ya.
So, let’s be honest. It never got done.
That day. Or the next. Maybe a few days later. Honestly, I have no clue. Because they just filled right back up.
Turns out… My kids have names. Personalities. Quirks. They breathe. One talks back. The other will in a few short months. But, the laundry baskets don’t. For now, they serve as the pillars to fortresses made with king sized fitted sheets from where my princes giggle and are fighting off evil sorcerers that are attacking our kingdom.
Moral of this – and what I hope any mom in my shoes takes away- for now, I will dig through them to find what I need when I don’t have a chance to fold and put it away. Time is precious. Especially with 2 monsters. Especially as a FireWife that gets so little time with her husband, works full-time and comes home to squeeze as much family time in as possible.
There’s more to life than Laundry.