My Laundry is Always Last

(and other mom truths)

It’s Sunday night.  I wouldn’t call it my least favorite night of the week, but it does touch Monday. So, ewww.

Sunday nights are not my favorite.  They usually mean the anxiety ridden thoughts of a busy week coupled with the reality that dear hubby is packing to go somewhere.  Maybe it’s just for a week, or maybe it’s for a month. 

Either way it’s both strangely calming—because this is the routine, it’s what we do—and at the same time depressing—because this is what we do.

Tomorrow will bring early alarm clocks.  And coffee.  (You had to see that one coming.)

Tomorrow will also bring the reality that most of my work clothes (or at least the ones I feel like wearing on a Monday), are either still dirty, got left in the washer overnight, or are wrinkled in the clothesbasket. 

From LAST weekend’s late night Sunday laundry that I still haven’t put away.

Because my laundry is always last.

It’s a small price to pay especially considering that I have more clothes than everyone else in my house.  Combined.  (Insert my husband’s eyeroll here.)

It isn’t that I make some grand sacrifice to do everyone else’s laundry first.  And if I’m being totally honest, dear hubby is home so little lately that he makes a pit stop, washes and dries his own laundry, and then repacks it in his suitcase for Monday.

And if I’m being REALLY transparent…are you ready for this?

My kids do their own laundry.  

It’s true.  I haven’t done any of my kids’ laundry since we moved here eight years ago, with the exception of a random load on a super busy week that will save my sanity the following school morning when there are clean school uniforms and no tears.

(I totally suggest teaching your three-year-old how to do their laundry. Follow me for more tips.)

So how does MY laundry always end up being the last thing that gets done?  I mean, clothes are a basic necessity!  And on Monday morning, comfortable teacher clothes trump my closet full of cute dresses every week!  Give me a fancy Friday dress with cute hair and accessories, but a “favorite pair of comfy pants” kind of Monday every single week.  Friday is hopeful and energetic.  Monday begs for your favorite “teacher t-shirt” and comfy black pants.

I’ll tell you how my laundry’s always last, but if you’re a mom, you already know.  Even if you have kids that do their own laundry or kids that are grown and gone and don’t need you to do their laundry, you still know.

Mom life is the hardest thing I’ve ever done. 

It requires schedules and errands and haircuts and dentist appointments and asking questions such as, “Why would you put that up your nose?”

My laundry is always last because I’m busy sweeping and grocery shopping and organizing the junk drawer in search of our house key because I have no idea where it is and the realtor is showing our house this week.  (Insert face palm.  But that’s a story for another day.)

My laundry is always last because the cat box needs cleaned out, something gross leaked out in the fridge and is covering the entire second shelf, and for the love of all that’s holy HOW does my son’s room smell so bad that I have to do recon and deep cleaning to remedy it?

My laundry is always last because there’s a little dancer girl who needs a ride to the studio and a mom to watch from the window.  My laundry is last because my son wants someone to listen to him play the song he just learned on the keyboard.  My laundry is last because sometimes even the adult daughter needs a long Facetime to vent and talk and miss home.  My laundry is last because I’m not about to waste precious weekend time with my hubby folding laundry.

And before you know it, poof!  Weekend gone!

We go back to schedules and homework and dance practice and early bedtimes.  We kiss dear hubby goodbye again and go back to mom’s cooking.  (Heaven help us all.  Send smoke detector batteries asap.) 

We cringe at the early alarm clock and make the coffee extra strong with an extra shot of espresso…and hope.

We, moms, go back to doing what we do best.  Juggling.  Loving.  (And sometimes rolling our eyes.)

But here’s the thing…

Mondays also bring this notion of newness.  We all get a brand-new set of days to do with as we choose.  We get another week to love our children, be grateful for our hard-working husbands, and slay at our jobs, whatever that may be. 

I know some killer moms who slay at being at home.  They take their kids on walks, they visit the park, they cook, they clean, they mediate WWIII between siblings, and they do it all selflessly.  I also know some killer moms who slay as they cut hair, teach my children, run their own business, or file insurance claims.

And they all do it with wrinkled laundry, mismatched socks, stained shirts, and improvised outfits. 

Because our laundry is always last. And I wouldn’t have it any other way.

Be grateful, water your own grass,

…and drink coffee.  With espresso.  You deserve it.

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