The Trials And Tribulations Of Never-ending Laundry
Like many stay at home parents a significant part of my day is taken up with laundry.
Sorting clothes, jamming them into the washing machine, sorting again, hanging on the line/clothes airer, putting some into the tumble dryer, sorting (yet again), folding, ironing and putting away.
‘Its not like you have to go to the well to get water’ reminds my husband on occasion when I complain (every day). While I agree with him that modern machines are amazing and that we are beyond lucky to have running water and modern conveniences I still begrudge the amount of time that laundry takes up and the utter monotony of it.
With children in the house it is inevitable that the washing machine is constantly on the go. Any parent can tell horror stories of days when a baby has to be changed top to toe several times. As children grow up, add in school uniforms, sports gear, swimming togs, ballet clothes etc. and laundry seems to grow exponentially year on year. Throw some adult clothes into the mix and the situation gets out of control.
My Mother is super. When she comes to visit she regularly asks if she can do some ironing. No need to ask twice! When I was growing up there were five children and two adults in our home. Mammy boiled cloth nappies for four of us on the stove top and when she first got a washing machine it was a twin tub. Anytime she needed to use it, it had to be moved into the centre of the kitchen and a hosepipe pointed into the sink. I honestly do not know how she managed to get anything else done, yet she too is flabbergasted by the amount of laundry that my home produces.
Yesterday I spent 90 minutes ironing clothes. IRONING!!! I hate ironing with a passion. Once upon a time as a teenager my clothes used to magically reappear clean and ironed in my room a few days after depositing them on the floor. I asked no questions. Subsequently my student and early working years were filled with clothes that either did not need to be ironed or were whisked so quickly from a hot tumble dryer that ironing was a superfluous task. But yesterday, I kept the head down, focused on the task at hand and ploughed through basket upon basket of clothes until the ironing was finished.
Job done, I allowed myself to feel a little smug. Normally I never TOTALLY finish a basket. There’s always a ‘cool iron’ top or two left in the bottom. Not yesterday! No sirree! I had the discipline to finish it all and I was mentally giving myself a high five.
As the laundry juggernaut never stops, the washing machine was just finishing a load. ‘I’m on a serious roll here’ I thought to myself as I emptied the contents of the washing machine into a basket. Virtually skipping to the clothes airer, I began to take the dry clothes off it to make room for the wet garments. Suddenly I came across a pair of burgundy cotton jeans. My hand hesitated above them. I knew they were bone dry and ready for ironing. I looked into the basket of dry clothes to my right. Hmm full of non iron cotton bits and pieces. Well no point in spoiling the basket of clothes that did not need ironing. Quickly I placed wet clothes all AROUND the burgundy jeans. I felt slightly lazy in doing it but truth be told, I did not want to start a new basket of ironing and hey no one else in the house would even notice or care.
Can I just mention at this point that the burgundy jeans are no friend of mine? They require a 30 degree solo wash .(Never handy in a house of two adults, two children, one muddy dog and a pooping kitten). Last time out, before I put them in the washing machine, I removed three pens from one pocket. Tutting to myself that I would be showing the pocket contents to himself later on (of course the jeans aren’t mine), I failed to discover the folded crisp packet, memory stick and two coins that merrily bounced around the washing machine during the jeans solo run. I couldn’t but laugh. The noisy wash reminded me of the time, years ago when I gathered up a bundle of laundry and shoved it in the machine only to see a CD (remember those?) pressed up against the inside of the door and the water sloshing around inside.
Right now I sit here and I can see the ironing basket out of the corner of my eye. The burgundy jeans are waving cheerily at me from the bottom, jostling for space with the other now dry clothes waiting patiently for their turn on the ironing board.
At the moment the laundry is never ending but some day in the future the baskets will be light.
Our children will move out taking their laundry with them. The full baskets represent a busy and active family of four. Going forward, I will try and to remember that when a small red sock turns the whites pink or the iron sticks to a cartoon character t-shirt. But for now the ironing can wait. Ironing in this house happens but once a week.
