In the 6 weeks I have been back at work, we have developed a slight problem. I have already pointed out that I hate doing laundry and that being back at work is great because it lets me avoid doing it at all costs. I realize I am home 3 or 4 days a week, but I still manage to avoid the dirty clothes forming Mt. Laundry in our bedroom. The only problem with this is if laundry isn't done after one week my darling husband runs out of work socks. Heaven forbid he has to work a weekend shift because it is almost guaranteed he is going to have to wear a pair of socks that are not regulation. Those are the days I pray the blousing on his pants doesn't creep up and show his socks.
I have told him several times that we can probably afford to have more than 5 pairs of work socks. They won't fit in his sock drawer though because of the white socks that also must occupy the tiny space that I allotted him for his socks. So really, it is my own fault that some days he is scrambling around at 6:30 in the morning searching for those darn olive green, knee-high socks. The positive side of all of this is that after 4 weeks of this and searching and scrambling for socks I was replaced as PIC (person in charge) of laundry. A typical Saturday for my husband now includes doing the laundry from the week which amount to anywhere from 5 to 7 loads. At the end of the day, before we can go to sleep we must remove all of the clean laundry from the bed. Sometimes this means actually folding and putting away of the clothes. Other times (if I get there first) it may mean piling the clean clothes in a laundry basket and pretending they aren't there. I am very good at pretending. However, my pretending causes the same search for those darn socks come Monday morning.
Some days I actually think, ok, I have plenty of time to do a load of laundry or two while I am home and if I just start it first thing I can put it away and have it all done before lunch. Then Tiny Tornado awakens and the day really starts. We play horses, read books, chase kitties and doggies, put shoes on and off, climb in and out of bouncers and walkers, make animal noises, and have 5 meals a day. Every day that I spend with her is precious and each moment is cherished. Even the ones that I am being scolded for telling her no, which is far more often that she would like. Those things put the thoughts of laundry far into the back of my mind. Nothing is more likely to stop me from doing laundry or dishes then tiny fingers pulling on my pantleg and handing me One Fish Two Fish; Red Fish Blue Fish by Dr. Seuss or Charlie and The Christmas Kitty by Ree Drummond. I know when she hands me these two books that she wants to sit in my lap and snuggle while we read them. I read, she yells fishy or kitty at each page and sometimes we have to stop so she can race around the room in excitement (she really likes fish and kitties).
She won't want to sit in my lap and snuggle forever. These days will be gone. One day, I won't look around at naptime and laugh at the massive amount of chaos that she created in 3 hours by spreading all her books and toys throughout the front half of the house. One day soon, she won't yell at me because I haven't read a book correctly or I missed a page. Before long, she won't say boooo every time we ask her what a cow says or howl when we ask her what Charlie says. So for as long as she will let me, I will sit on the floor for hours, read books, play horses and cars, and squeeze her a little too tight. I am blessed to have a darling husband who understands that I am going to embrace every minute with Tiny Tornado. This is likely to mean that he will be doing laundry for a long, long time. It means that there will be days that his socks aren't quite in regulation. It definitely means that there will be times we both search through Mt. Laundry for a matching pair of olive green, knee-high socks.
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