I was just asked by an outsider)if it was laundry day by the state of my living room. Um, yeah, let's go with that. I mean I'm not lying necessarily. I just negated to say that every other day is also laundry day and this is the best my house ever looks. I suppose it's more like Groundhog Day but with never-ending laundry.
And it just keeps multiplying. Between school clothes, sports clothes, the fact that we are back to wearing socks and that we can't wear a fleece one time without getting marshmallow on the sleeve or chocolate down the front, I've got my hands full.
Having said that, the kids are now big enough to help out, in theory. They usually won't. Not without death threats or worse: I threaten to pull their device of choice. On top of threats, I also like to add a complaining tax. It's usually laundry related, like fold ten more items of clothing for being too salty.
Even with "help," it's still a pretty big job. It's not hard, just monotonous. Even if I get two loads a day washed and dried, very rarely do I have the ambition to fold. Worse is refolding. I mean thanks for the help kids but this shirt is no better now than it was in the jumbled mess of a pile it came from. I'm not totally OCD so I let most of that fly but how hard is it to fold a towel?
I recognize it's more important for them to learn and help than it is for my towels to look perfect, but surely we can fold something into a square. I may secretly have to fix this at a much later date, say when I actually put them away. Oh gawwwwwdddd! What's wrong with me?
Hence why my living room is grand central, everyday. If something gets put away before it's worked back in to circulation, it's a damn miracle. So if you find things folded in baskets, I'm having a good day. If it's in a pile on the floor that big enough to hike, you either need to take one or dig in, because it's laundry day, baby.
Sorry for the mess, but obviously not sorry enough to fix it.
A mom of many.