I have just finished a marathon laundry folding session and I’ve come to a few conclusions.
We are going to move to Tahiti and wear only sarongs. No shoes, no supportive undergarments, just sarongs. One per person and wash it your own damned self.
The House of Chaos is the end of the line for your missing socks. I have three random foot coverings here that I know for a fact do not belong to anyone in this house. No need to come retrieve them, they’re now on their way to the great landfill in the sky.
J wears far too many clothes.
When we learned we were going to have two boys in the house, I figured I’d be pulling all sorts of, um, interesting things out of their pockets on laundry day. With the exception of one notable crayon incident from which I am still recovering (at least I found a solution), there has been a distinct lack of frogs/bugs/skeeviness in their pockets. The occasional rock or Lego. Thought I was home free. No creepy crawlies from boys, and I figured no girls=not a lot of clothes. Boys wear the same things until you pry them off at the request of the Health Department, right?
Since they were big enough to pull a shirt over their heads, I’ve let the boys dress themselves. As long as they are appropriately attired, I don’t care what they wear. My only rule is that if there’s snow on the ground, they wear socks. Period. Beyond that, they can pick out whatever they’d like to wear.
A’s method is “whatever is on top of the pile in the drawer.” This means he has a rotation of about a half dozen outfits. Why don’t I just get rid of everything else? Because <insert item here> was my favorite MOM! That’s why. Not worth it.
J’s method is more interesting, and if he’d let me take pictures, it’d be a lot more amusing. He is a huge fan of short sleeves over long sleeves with track pants. He owns exactly two pairs of jeans, and only wears them under duress. So it’s track pants that barely fit because he has no ass every day. But it’s the short sleeves over long sleeves look that cracks me up every morning. Some days it’s a t-shirt over a long sleeved t-shirt. Nothing funky there, a pretty typical little boy look. Other days it’s a t-shirt over a long sleeved hoodie shirt. O-kay. He’s becoming enamored with the t-shirt over the short sleeve collared shirt that has faux long sleeves; that one is definitely chuckle-worthy. But my all time fave is the one he sported today: t-shirt over black fuzzy sweater. Really? I’ve given up trying to talk him out of it. Not a battle I’m willing to fight. He’s happy, he’s dressed, end of story.
What this means, however, is that most of the laundry is his. Double shirts. Every day. Both boys are guilty of wearing pajamas only once before being tossed into the laundry; same with blue jeans.
But it’s the double shirts that gets me every time.
Sarongs. One each. But I’ll let them pick out their color.