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Friday, 14 June 2013

Laundry. I hate it.

My planned post today was about the lovely morning I spent with the kids in the garden taking advantage of the sun, the seeds and the large patch of cleared ground from my days and days of clearing the world's biggest bush from the corner of the garden (ooh er!) 

Instead I am going to talk about laundry, and my loathing of it. 

First of all I live in a house full of BOY. Boy is a creature incapable of wearing any item of clothing for more than thirty seven seconds without getting some kind of vile filth upon it. My boys like to change each time this happens - so there is a vast and never ending supply of clothing with filth on. 

It is my job to collect these items from whichever room/surface they've been dumped upon (this could be literally anywhere) and sort them then wash them, dry them, fold them, sort them and put them away. 
(img source https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRwnP9XAQTyBsfE53EDIbsaH4gMI8E9MTznJmhhYtvUY_CBO8Ec) 

Recently I went on strike and said that I would wash, dry and fold them - and that Daddytwo could do the sorting into piles and putting away sections. 

This led to a room downstairs almost entirely full of clean laundry in teetering piles that we had to dive in to in the vain hope of finding whole outfits and matching socks. 

Eventually I caved and I spent two entire hours re-folding and sorting the laundry and putting it away. I insisted Daddytwo put the bedding away - which led to it being dumped on our bed, beside the airing cupboard, and then pushed on to the floor at bedtime. *sigh*.

The children seem to have A LOT of clothes - so I put them all very carefully and in a very tightly pressed in manner into their drawers and was pleased to have them full, and all the clean clothes away (ignoring the three laundry baskets entirely FULL of grimey ones).

(img source https://encrypted-tbn1.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcTZKmAiqfoHd9sZMBkX25pLd__lhAvcPf9au223A5bAD3vrCGEh8Q)


Today after our gardening I stripped the kids of their wet, muddy clothes and asked them to carefully get clean trousers out of their drawers. This is one of those big boy jobs both kids love to be given - they love being able to pick their own clothes, they love dressing themselves, and they love being allowed to touch things in drawers. 

Did they do it nicely? Did they buttocks. I heard a lot of laughter as I prepared lunch and thought (foolishly) "I do love it when they play nicely together". I headed upstairs to tell them lunch was ready and I saw...



ALL OF THE CLOTHES, removed, unfolded, strewn around their bedroom and COVERED IN JUICE. They'd pulled every single thing out, thrown it all around, jumped up and down on it, and sprinkled orange squash on EVERY SINGLE THING from the juice bottles that are now in the bin. 

(not my house - but so easily could be! https://encrypted-tbn3.gstatic.com/images?q=tbn:ANd9GcRmlzXRG8loc7W8K6ZhMcA3Y78J8EFZARswivwao4lzAUt9F1SW)


I was NOT impressed. I lost my temper quite loudly. Both boys were ordered out of my sight (their most distressing punishment, apparently) and I had a little cry. 

I hate laundry. 

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