For the Love of Laundry

Anyone who know me knows my housekeeping skills are subpar. I pretty much dust when I can't find things, and I think the easiest part of giving away our dog was knowing I could vacuum less. I clean things when they are so dirty I fear for the safety of my children. But there's something about doing laundry that I just love.

My husband actually does most of the cleaning around the house. He's really good at it and seems to like it, so I happily relinquish the tasks to him. But don't get in the way of my laundry. Occasionally I may let him start a load for me, but I am anxious until I can get in that little room and take over. Only I possess the knowledge of the hidden stain (although I haven't yet garnered that skill I thought was automatic once you became a mom - to be able to actually remove any stain). Only I know what has to be turned inside out before it goes in (as if the items weren't already inside out). And only I know what can't go in the dryer (just ask the Irish fisherman's sweater that used to fit my husband).

And God forbid anyone else should try to fold it. Because no one else can fold it the way I like it folded.

I think it goes back to my "control" issues, but when I get to fold my laundry, I am in my little kingdom. I am very particular. I dump it all out in my bedroom floor. I sort it into piles by person. Sometimes I let my kids help me sort it and we turn it into a game -I read somewhere that sorting helps with math skills, so if we can get a little learning in there, so be it. And we practice colors with the 2-year-old. But that's as far as it goes. Once it's sorted, it's all me.

The laundry has to be folded by person, and placed in piles based on what room and what drawer it goes in. When you consider that I have a family of 5, plus towels, that's a lot of floor space. In fact, I don't think I can buy anymore bedroom furniture as that would seriously disrupt my hustle-and-flow. Once it's all folded, the piles get stacked one-on-top-of-the-other in order of the way the drawers are in the dresser for each person. No one can do that but me. No one else cares about it the way I do.

A few weeks ago, when I was really overloaded, I let my mom fold my laundry. Wow, is she good at it. She puts stuff back in the dryer if she thinks it's too wrinkled. Did you know you could do that? She puts creases in things. Corners line up. It's neat and impressive. But there's boy stuff mixed with the girl stuff. 4-year-old stuff with the 2-year-old stuff. And - gasp -LONG-SLEEVED SHIRTS WITH THE SHORT-SLEEVED SHIRTS! Total chaos. And then I have to re-sort it all. And I lose her perfect creases. So I decided not to waste her time and get my control back.

So forgive my messy, dirty house. I do not know where the clean spoons are. I could not tell you where the Pledge is. But I do know who has the Elmo panties and who has the Tinkerbell panties. I have just come from a three-load laundry retreat in my bedroom. I am happy and at peace.