Mt St Laundry

I think every mom, and even every Proverbs 31 Woman has that one chore she just hates to do.  Mine is laundry.  I have no aversion to the actual act of it.  Dirty clothes don't bother me, having 3 kids I have seen the worst and survived.  I don't mind the process of loading and unloading the washer, only to load and unload the dryer, and then fold or hang up all the clothing.  I don't mind sorting.  I don't have any issue attempting to find the best value for my laundry soap or fabric softener, and I also don't mind paying good money for the good stuff if it really does what it is supposed to.  It's just one thing that ruins laundry for me.  It is never done.

Never.

Unless you are a full time or part time nudist, laundry is always there.  When the kids were little, I thought that it would get easier.  In my naivety, I thought as they got older they would get cleaner.  But then you hit the toddler and preK years, and you find out that they get messier.  Instead of diaper blow outs, spit up and the occasional baby food explosion; I would find myself elbow deep in finger paints, chocolate frosting, throw up and grass stains.  Then my kids would move on to school ages, where I would now be introduced to art class, spilled chocolate milk in the cafeteria, using markers to draw on their paints, and the occasional trip into a mud puddle.  This doesn't even include having the kids change out of their school clothes to try and preserve them, and having play clothes added into the pile. 

I also forgot that they actually would grow.  Socks would get bigger, onesies would become pants and tshirts, then over time the pile grows.  Tie in that over the years my husband went from wearing regular work clothes to uniforms that he would change out of once home, and the pile grew larger.

Baby blankets and crib sheets evolved into bed sheets and queen sized comforters.
Illnesses and potty training would require multiple sets of both.
Baby towels and washcloths would grow into full size bath towels, and pool and beach days would add to the pile.

What was once a few small loads would grow into what I not so fondly call Mt. St. Laundry.  I will count myself as lucky if I can just reach the peak.

And then it happens...

You have an amazingly productive day.  You reach the other side.  It's the last load, you have it folded and put away.  And you find it.

The sock under the couch.
The underwear that was behind the bathroom door.
The pajamas lost in the bed sheets.

You grab that stray item, toss it into your basket.  You feel somewhat defeated.  But it's just that one or two pieces of clothing.

But the front door opens and your children are home and changing.  Your husband arrives a few hours later, and now you have a full load.  Mt. St. Laundry is building back up.  You could pick up the load, reclaim your victory... and then you wonder, "what about tomorrow".  That basket will just fill up again tomorrow.  You make the decision to catch up tomorrow.

And before you know it, the laundry room overfloweth. 

On that note, the buzzer is going off, I have to move the final load.

For today.

But not forever.

And that is why I hate laundry.