Maybe you want to talk about laundry?
And you’re gonna say, “Again? You always talk, complain, post pics and then complain more about doing the laundry.” And I’ll say, “You’re right.” So I’m changing the conversation.
Here’s how it went.
“Okay guys, ALL of the laundry is now done. See? No more dirty laundry in the baskets, or the washer or anywhere! Cool huh?” No response.
“Good. I’m glad you feel as relieved as I do. Now, starting today we are on a new laundry schedule. If you can hear my words nod your heads.” Slow-rolling head nods from the zombie iPad children in my midst.
“Great. Here’s the new plan. From today onward – I will only be doing MY laundry – (and Fiona’s because she’s five). And you guys, [sweeps fingers in the you-complete-me Jerry McGuire universal symbol of meaning] will be doing YOUR laundry. All of it. Including the towels you use, and your bedding.” No response.
“I’ll show you how to do it the first week – except daddy, he already knows how to press all the buttons – and then from here on out, you will be responsible for washing, drying, folding and putting away your clothes.” Until. The. End. Of. Time.
And then I proceeded to take away the laundry storage hampers that we use in the laundry room, where MOUNTAINS of laundry build up, until I don the laundry-martyr wench hat, and do it all – again.
That was three weeks ago. I’m happy to say I feel like a new person. I do my laundry (and little stinker’s laundry) and I feel FREE. Free like food samples at Costco, free like all the mosquitos in Algonquin park, free like my home incarceration ankle bracelet has been removed.
I feel awesome. So that’s it. No judgment if you do all the laundry, no judgment if you’ve had your family in the program since they were born – just a simple story of how I decided to stop the train, and get on a different one.
Happy Slice Everyone!