Where Mom unleashes the inner monologue.

The TARDIS and My Laundry

on February 13, 2014

I’m not sure how everyone else feels, but I absolutely freaking hate to fold laundry.  I really do.  The only way I’ve found to make it bearable is to dump it all on the bed and watch TV while I tediously fold it all, knowing it will all get undone shortly anyway.  It doesn’t help that I have a 3 year old that likes to make “tunnels” in the piles for his cars while I’m folding, so I have to fold everything at least twice.  I think I may have found a way to hate it a little bit less now though.

I was sitting on the bed watching TV and folding, like I do, when a commercial came on and I sat back staring at my piles of clothes for a moment.  I was not-so-secretly wishing they would fold themselves and put themselves away.  Alas, it did not work, and there weren’t any Disney woodland creatures showing up anytime soon to do it.  I started to get frustrated because my laundry never freaking ends.  I swear I do two loads a day sometimes and the hampers are still full at the end of the week.  How is that possible?  It’s like there’s a wibbly wobbly timey whimey thing going on with my hampers and I’m waiting for the TARDIS and Dr. Who to pop out and tell me he’s been playing a practical joke on me this whole time.  I digress.  Anyway, there I was, getting ticked off at the universe and Dr. Who when I realized I was looking at it all the wrong way.  I figured out two things and my brain did a small version of a happy dance.

1. It’s the only time I’m left somewhat alone and get to watch whatever shows I want.  I lock myself away in our bedroom while the rest of the family hangs out in the living room watching cartoons or Top Gear.  Since I usually bat my husband and toddler away with whatever I can reach when they cause me to have to refold everything, they’ve learned for the most part to steer clear of the laundry piles.  And when my husband comes in I also try to get him to help, so he magically disappears when it’s folding time.

Side Note:  When my husband and I first moved in together, I used to force him to fold clothes with me and called it a “folding party.”  Eight years later and he’s figured out how to avoid the party.  He told me once that he didn’t want to join the party that night and I said, “Then it’s not a “party”, it’s just me, and that makes it “folding masturbation” and that’s just not as much fun…”  The conversation stopped there because we couldn’t stop laughing.  So there’s your dorky story for the day.  And you people thought you were weird.

2. My laundry piles have increased because my family has increased.  In essence, duh! But when I thought about it, it was kind of sweet.  It started out with just me and my jeans, t-shirts, and hoodies, because I’m a tomboy and my wardrobe doesn’t extend much further than that, oh and a million pajama pants.  Then around 8 years ago, my husbands clothes were getting added to the mix.  More laundry, but not too much.  Almost 4 years ago now we added our eldest son.  Insert infant clothes and graduated to toddler clothes now.  Then 2 months ago we added another son.  So now I have my clothes, husbands clothes, toddler apparel, and infant crap (really frustrating to try to fold) splayed out all over my bed to fold.  It’s a boatload to fold, but now that I think about it in the sense of my expanding family, it kind of makes it worth it and a little less hate-able.

I by no means enjoy folding clothes now, but I hate it a little less now.  Sometimes we just have to change our perspective on things to weed out a little of the stress in our lives, even if its something as simple as revoking the death threats you normally cast at your hamper.


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