Every Sunday morning I share a moment from my week and something it illustrated about motherhood, family life, or simply being human. I invite you to set aside a moment out of your weekend for reflection and join me for Sunday Morning Tea. -Meagan
As I write this, a jumble of jeans, shirts, and those elusive clean socks, warm from the dryer and exuding the sort of soapy/outdoorsy smell that can only be generated in a laboratory, is piling up by my feet at the foot end of my bed. It’s been hectic around our house lately, and with my impending book launch I’ve been delegating the tasks of running loads to and from the basement to my husband and kids.
Sure, it wouldn’t be too much to ask someone else to deal with the clean clothes too, but one task I cling to – that I’m loathe to give up during all but the most desperate times – is that much-maligned chore: doing the laundry. And even when my work load makes it difficult for me to do the whole job myself, I still insist on being the one to fold all those jeans and shirts and towels.
I know that might sound crazy. As a working mom of many, I’d be more than justified in sweeping this task off my plate forever, and I’ve definitely got the workforce to take over the job. As a mother of teens, it’s even been suggested to me that I’m doing my bigger boys a disservice by washing their clothes for them.
I don’t disagree that being versed in laundry basics is a necessary life skill, and my boys definitely know how to load and start the washer, run the dryer, fold and put away. It’s just that I rarely – almost never, really – ask them to do it. [click to continue…]
