Strike While the Iron is Hot

Okay,  today I have reached my limit.  I had a mommy tantrum the size of China.  I’m seriously considering going on strike.  I mean it.  I’m at my wit’s end!  This tantrum has been building for a while.

What was the last straw?  The L word: laundry.  I know I’ve written about this before.  Maybe I should make my kids do their own laundry, but we have a family of 5 and I could see the “do your own” eventually ending with someone getting either stuffed in the dryer or getting smacked upside the head with the iron.  Why?  Because ultimately the girls will each be down to their last pair of undies (they are clearly professional procrastinators) and favorite jeans and then the race to the washer for the dual of the century (which would occur about once a week – hopefully).  This would not be helpful in reaching our goal of family unity and harmony and world peace.

So back to the part where I do the laundry – I fold everyone’s clothes, put them into neat piles outside their bedroom doors.  I do not put clothes away (except my own) – that’s my line in the sand.  Okay, so I do a load of laundry every day, thus there are clean clothes for the kids every day – little stacks that would take about 5 seconds to put away.  Instead, this is what happens outside the doors of my daughter’s rooms:

“I don’t have time to put my perfectly folded clothes away!”  “I’ll do it tonight (2 days later, see pic above).”  “I have too much homework!”  “I’m tired.” “I had to work tonight.”

I’m getting angrier and angrier as I’m fixing dinner.  Guess what I made for dinner?  Curry shrimp and rice with broccoli.  Yep, shrimp.  I’m standing in the kitchen removing the shells and the shit from 2 pounds of shrimp for my ungrateful, spoiled girls!  I should have just left it in there – I don’t think anyone has died or contracted a deadly disease from a little cooked shrimp poop, have they?

Arrrrggghhhhhh!  Do they think I do all of this stuff for shits and grins?  That’s when I started fantasizing about going on strike.  Do you know how quickly this place would lapse into total chaos without my daily attention?! I started thinking about all of the little stuff I do that no one notices (I’m sure many of you can relate) – fill the soap dispensers, the toilet paper holders, keep the house tidy, keep the house stocked with food and their favorite snacks, make doctor appointments, manage their schedules, pay the bills, etc.  You get the idea. Hmmmm….. What would happen if I went on strike, ran away, or disappeared??

After wallowing in their own filth and dirty underwear, would they start crying and begging me to come back so they could apologize to me?  Would they all magically start respecting what I do, putting their things and laundry away, doing the dishes, taking the dog for a walk all with a smile and a “I love you, mommy!”?? 

I know, I know.  But it’s part of the fantasy.  A girl’s gotta have something.

I have thought about getting each of the girls a laundry basket and just throwing their clean clothes in there unfolded.  They end up like that anyway – then they can fold their wrinkled clothes on their own time.  Hmmmm….   It would save me time.

Okay, tantrum over…until next time 🙂

The L Word

The L-Word (No, I do not mean lesbian!) – LAUNDRY.  This is the bane of my existence. 

bane

/[beyn]

–noun 1. a person or thing that ruins or spoils: Gambling was the bane of his existence.

 
I realize that this is whiny, self-centered and borders a little on the ridiculous.  As “banes” go, laundry doesn’t compare to let’s say, cancer, homelessness, animal/child abuse, etc.  But, I’m going to digress to a childlike egocentricity and whine about laundry. 
 
What can I say? I HATE laundry.  I guess I’ve never really met anyone that likes it, but I don’t go around asking people about it either.  I would rather go to the grocery store (remember, I hate grocery shopping) for 48-hours straight than do laundry.  There are 5 people in my family, but you would think that we have a family of 10-15.  We generate dirty clothes like rabbits spawn kits (official name of a baby rabbit – you learned something new today!).  I do at least TWO loads of laundry EVERY day (see Deja Vu (again!) post).   I suppose,  as The Mom, being the  laundress of the family is an assumed responsibility listed under The Official Mom Job Description (it leaves out laundry specifically but I’ll assume it would be lumped in with Janitorial Work). 
 
Why do I hate thee? Let me count the ways:
 
  • I really hate the accolades I constantly receive for doing this chore (it’s really just embarrassing, I mean I’m just doin’ my job) –  “Mom, where are my favorite jean shorts?!  I put them in the laundry a week ago!  They’re not clean?!  What am I going to wear?! [daughter stomps off with huffy breath].

 

  • When I get the bins cleared out and pat myself on the back for a job well done, something God-Aweful happens!  I turn my back for one second and the bins are overflowing with dirty, smelly clothes again!!!!  I think the kids hoard their clothes in their rooms on purpose and then BAM! refill the bins to overflowing just to make me crazy.

 

  • I can NEVER check this chore off of my list.  I am a list-maker of the highest order and obtain an instant high when I can cross something off the list – laundry is a buzz-kill.

 

  • Who likes touching dirty, smelly, mystery-stained items (personal and otherwise) every day?  “Ooh, ooh!  Pick me! Pick me! (yeah, right!)

 

  • I hate gym uniforms.  The Sunday night 10pm gym uniform emergency is getting really old.  “But, mommy, I’ll get a demerit if I don’t have my uniform!!” [huffy breath from daughter also verging on tears].  I know what you’re thinking, let her suffer the consequences, blah, blah, blah.  Who will really suffer here? Moi.  Trust me, there will be other skirmishes worthy of mortal combat. 

 

Right now, I’m sure all of you are thinking, “She has two teenage daughters so why aren’t they doing the laundry?”.  Okay, this is a quandary for me because as a confirmed control-freak, it has been hard to give up the this drudgery. I’m my own worst enemy.  Why?
 
  • I would like my clothes cleaned properly without shrinkage or bleeding.

 

  • I would like my clothes done in a timely manner.  If I waited on my daughters (who are hardly ever home) to do the laundry, we would all be naked.  And, I’m pretty sure that violates all school and workplace dress codes.

 

  • They will have a lifetime of their own dirty laundry to deal with (now, I’m being altruistic.  Okay, maybe not, the control freak in me is being an enabler – wow, I think I need some serious therapy).

 

Now that I got that off of my chest, I will stop whining about it and move on to something else!