Mom's Free Laundry Service

We have six people in our family, so I always have tons of laundry to do. Every single day. What happens when I do not do any laundry for several days? This:

My children are ages 11, 9, nearly-7, and 5, so I believe they should be doing more to help with the laundry. When we moved into this house, I began to make them all put away their own laundry, which has been great. The problem is that they neither bring me the laundry on a regular basis nor appreciate all the work I do in order to get their cute jeans, favorite dresses, and goofy socks back into their drawers and closets. 

I have decided that it is time for some changes in our house. 

Over the past year or so, I have gotten softer on the girls and my husband about the laundry routine, and it is grinding my days off to a halt now. I work three days per week, volunteer at school on one of my off days, and have zero desire to spend my remaining day off on laundry. When the girls and my dear husband return home today, they will find a scene like this:

While this particular room is my own bedroom, I have placed these notices in each of our three bedrooms. What does it say, you ask? Let me show you the new rules for laundry in my house as of today, Tuesday, October 22, 2013:

I am quite hopeful that my days of rounding up piles of clothing from my daughters' bedroom floors, hallways, the entryway, the family room, and the bathrooms are over. There will be some growing pains, I am sure, but I also realize that I am doing a disservice to my offspring and myself by not encouraging them to be even more independent about their laundry. It is not enough to show them one time how to load the washer or fold clothes from the dryer. It is time the girls learned to follow through the entire process.

It may be several more months before I feel comfortable with the two big girls actually running the washing machine and dryer; that is a lot of responsibility. See, there I go babying them again. When each of the girls turns twelve, I will teach her how to do laundry from beginning to end. There. Now, I have to do it. 

Sunday Morning Funnies

Some people read the comics in the newspaper on a Sunday morning. I have my Mini Me. The following conversation is evidence of the goofiness in my house:

MM: "I tried to wake you up when I woke up today, Dad. I even grabbed your hand, but you didn't move. I thought you were dead."

Me: "So, instead of waking me up and making sure Daddy was actually okay, you came downstairs and watched 'Doctor Who' and ate yogurt?"

MM: Grin.

Oh, For Cute

That saying always bothered me when I lived in the Midwest, because it does not make much sense grammatically. It is, however, entirely appropriate at times. For me, one of those moments occurred in the past few weeks.

On January 2nd, I went to see my family practitioner for my annual exam. Now, any woman that has had an annual physical can tell you that it is all about making one uncomfortable. There is talk of weight, menstrual cycles, birth control, and anything else the doctor deems necessary.

Perhaps one of the most uncomfortable moments for me always happens when it is time for the breast exam. The doctor always pushes too hard, and I am not much of a fan of sharing my breasts with anyone other than my husband of nearly twelve years. This is where things got a little concerning, though.

My doctor was concerned about bumps she found in nearly the same location on each breast. My faith in God and knowledge that eating a vegan diet nearly erases one's risk of developing cancer helped to assuage any personal worry. I scheduled a mammogram per her request and awaited the results. Once they arrived, saying that I have no abnormalities, I realized what my doctor was concerned about: my pectoral muscles from all the weight lifting I do.

Oh, for cute.