My Declaration of War, One Battle at a Time

The twins are napping (FINALLY) and so I must prepare for battle.  In my home, there is one constant: laundry.  Somehow adding two more children managed to quadruple the number of loads that the washer and I must tackle each week.  As I type, the washer and dryer are both at full capacity, and the love seat has been burdened with no less than five loads at any given moment since school began in August.  I’m pretty sure the babysitter must think I never wash clothes, but I swear that I do!

Saturday dawns each week with the renewed determination to clear the furniture of all of the clothes that have accumulated from the week’s washing.  I fold and fold and fold some more, and then finally manage to put away millions of tiny socks, thousands of princess dresses that have somehow not managed to clog the washer with their disengaged sequins, and stacks of boring but well used towels.  What I never manage to account for, however, it that as I am folding and diligently returning them to their rightful places in various rooms, more clothes are being worn and washed.  Spills continue to happen, and the clothes fairy has still not made an appearance.

I will fight the good fight, but baby sitter will still have to bear witness to items of clothing she would probably rather not see on the love seat.  (I’m so sorry, Rachel!)  Someday I will win, but that may also coincide with the day my three beloved children leave the nest for their dorm rooms.

Wish me luck.

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