I used to love folding laundry. Seriously. It was my favorite household chore (outside of vacuuming). The reason I liked it so much (laundry and vacuuming) is that it was one of the few chores where you can actually see the results. Take a dirty, smelly laundry basket, whirl it thru the washer and dryer, fold them, and you’ve got neat stacks of clean clothes. It’s delightful.
Unlike dishes, or cooking, or picking up the my little ponies (or army guys, or barbies, or legos – whatever the toy of the moment is…). That’s an unending task, and as soon as it’s finished (and sometimes before…) it’s time to start again.
I loved laundry as a single girl, and I loved it as a married, pregnant mom. I loved it with one little baby, her tiny clothes were adorable, and even though the frequency stepped up quite a bit – I was still a happy laundry girl. I started to stumble a little at putting them away, I was still great at DOING the laundry, and even folding it. But putting it away was taking longer and longer. Folding took longer and longer.
Then I had Sam, and I was still charging along. Happy, happy laundry girl. I didn’t really lose control until after Julie was born. Truth be told, it was when I was pregnant with her. I was sick with all my babies, but with Julie, I added overwhelming ITCHINESS. My whole body itched, incessantly. Between the nausea, the braxton hicks contractions (another fun Julie addition) and the incredible itchy skin – everything got a lot harder.
Which is when Mt. St. Laundry was born. I still wash the clothes – it’s not that I have piles and piles of dirty laundry all over the house. I wash a load a day, and sometimes two. (Sometimes none, but mostly, I do a load a day). Wash, dry, pile in the basket in front of the washer. I gave up folding socks somewhere along the lines too – I just keep them all in the basket. And when the volcano erupts (which is to say that it gets so big that it topples over – or when a kid or husband gets so frustrated with the lack of clean clothes in the dressers and goes digging), I fold. Reluctantly, and with grim determination.
Today was a good day, because I folded. There are no clothes waiting to be folded, only eight piles of clothes to be put away (I was so pleased with myself, I paused to blog before putting away). The only hitch is that the deal I make with myself, when the laundry mountain gets too overwhelming is that I’m not allowed to wash anymore until I fold and put them all away. Which means I’ve got at least two loads scattered between all the bedrooms, and by this time tomorrow, I’ll be well on my way to building another Mt. Saint Laundry.
But at least vacuuming is still fun.
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