Greetings From Mt. Cotton Poly Blend

Girls bring me your laundry now!!! I yelled out to my youngest practicing her violin and my tween, enthralled with ballet on YouTube. My mind instantly takes me back to my childhood home, as they dump their bulging hampers onto the floor in front of me. The mountain of laundry grows as the washing machine and dryer simultaneously let out mechanical roars behind me. Growing up, I rarely saw a pile of laundry, if so it was always sorted into whites, neutrals, darks, or towels. My mother is a laundering goddess and when I say she could outlaunder Martha in a competition, I wouldn't give a second thought to doubling down on Barbara over Martha. She folds with precision and the utmost care, no whites every dulled, three sons always presented her with a stain challenge but none defeated her. Clean clothes never sat cold and wrinkled in the dryer because it was always promptly folded straight from a buzzing machine and put away while they were still warm. The woman can fold a queen fitted sheet to fit in a quart size Ziploc bag. Have I even mentioned she stayed on top of laundry with the utmost care for a household of 6?

I on the other hand have failed in all the ways my mother perfected the art of laundering. I will admit, I do have a mean stain fighting repertoire, but the wrinkles and the bottomless mounds leave me so uninspired and defeated. Defeated enough to be sitting here writing while I ignore the cackling from the three loads of laundry that sit on the other end of the sectional, waiting to be tended to.  It also sounds like the washing machine just came to a final spin and I give it a 3, 2, 1 until the dryer buzzes to complete the nightmare laundry trifecta. The loads weigh heavily on me and I can't help but wonder at what age is the perfect time for children to begin taking on some of their responsibilities around the house (says the woman who never did a load of her own laundry before I moved out at 18)? They do put away their clothes or I find myself begging them to match up the laundry basket of socks, but I'm dreaming about how exciting it would be to hand some laundering duties off to them…


  1. Ha Ha! My mom wasn't a sorter, and neither am I. Our whites are dingy at best.

    1. I sort, but heck if I get a folded load into the dresser before the girls are picking through the basket for something to wear!


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