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When the Laundry is out of Control

Alas, laundry is my nemesis.

Right now I have at least four laundry bags with clean clothes piled at the end of the beds in our tiny bedroom. I'm sure I'm not the first mom to struggle with keeping on top of the laundry, and I know I won't be the last, but living in a small home definitely adds to the problem.

We don't have a washer or dryer in our home, and while I hope that will change someday (a girl can dream, right?), the reality now is that I have to carry all of our dirty laundry next door to my parents' house. I know, I know, it could be worse: a laundromat could be involved. Or it could be much, much worse. I could be doing this:


Talk about a first world problem.

Nevertheless, laundry often gets the best of me. Between the number of hours each day someone is sleeping in the bedroom (where most of the clothes are stored) and the antics of my not-so-helpful toddler, it seems that I rarely find the time to collect and fold the laundry, let alone put it away. (And that's assuming that I've washed it in the first place.) I try to get to Mt. Laundry when the little one is napping if I can remember to grab the bags of clean clothes before she is asleep. Sunshine is more than willing to help match socks and roll up tiny pants while her sister snoozes, so we often do it together. When I remember, that is.

My laundry problem very much comes to the fore whenever I try to actually walk to the bedroom closet and find a mountain of clean clothes in my way. I'm surprised we haven't lost Sweetheart in there yet. But once that bedroom door is closed, I don't have to think about it again for at least an hour or two.

We probably just have too many clothes. After all, Sweetheart wouldn't need so many pairs of pajamas if I could actually find a clean pair when I need them. But they're lost in a mountain of clothes half the time, so I have to have extras.

This is a problem that I hope will resolve itself eventually. You know...when I save up for furniture that folds clothes for me. Or when I can finally tell some bored kids to fold their own laundry. A girl can dream, right?

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