Everyday is laundry day in our house.

I have this canvas on my laundry room wall to remind me of the joy I SHOULD feel whilst sorting through dirty socks.

I do at least 2 loads of laundry per day. This is despite my encouraging the boys to wear their jeans, pajamas and sweatshirts for two days ( unless very grass stained or obviously dirty , not the Jammie’s). Each day I go into their room and the laundry basket is overflowing! Whaaaaat? It must be breeding overnight.

Getting the laundry downstairs is either throwing it over the bannister with a yell of ‘watch out below’ and hoping a passing child doesn’t end up with dirty undies on their head , or lying flat out under a ton of socks and pants, OR lugging the baskets myself and hoping I don’t trip and tumble down the stairs. My next house will have an upstairs laundry.

Sorting through the littles laundry is a real chore. Almost 90% is inside out. The socks are rolled up in a little ball , sleeves are tangled inside each other and the  underwear is always inside the pants as they slip these off in one  slick move.

I choose the nicest smelling laundry soap and I hot wash them despite the warnings that their clothes will wear out quicker. I need those kid stains and smells OUT!

Pockets inevitably have been missed and little lizards, pebbles, pennies , candy wrappers and indescribables fall out into the murky waters.

Once it’s dried , it’s the part I like the least ,folding and putting it away. I gave up ironing years ago which is a good thing for me. I will iron a nice shirt if we are going somewhere special but that’s my limit. That’s what tumble dryers are for! Throw the wrinkly shirt in with a wet washcloth , 10 minutes on high, BAM!

Don’t get me started on the little girl still being in cloth diapers , rinsing off poop before the washing , double washing them and putting them out in the sunshine to whiten them. No kidding, it’s extra work.

Whilst I complain , I AM lucky in this day and age that I have hot water and electricity. No having to beat the clothes against the rocks or run them through a mangle as my Granny did.

Still, laundry is a chore, but one day I may be sad that I’m only washing the hubby’s socks and my nightie with no pebbles rattling in the dryer.