As I wait for supper to warm, I'm trying to decide if I should be offended that D just asked me what inspired me to stay in my gown all day. Yes, it's almost 7 p.m. and I haven't changed out of my night gown. In my defense, I have worked on laundry all day. I just didn't see the need for me to dirty up more clothes to turn around and then wash.
I hate laundry. To be exact, I loathe laundry. Of all the household chores, in my opinion laundry is by far the worst. Mainly because it never ends. Once a load is washed, dried and neatly folded, another piles up in the hamper. It multiplies. Laundry is a living, breathing, nasty, unending task than tortures and torments its domestic master.
And the laundry that lives in a house with three small children breeds worse than a bunch of bunnies. It's downright discouraging.
Notice I haven't even gotten in to the part where the master must put the monster away in its appropriate living quarters. I can't stand putting away clean clothes. I love it when its done. I love the accomplished - short-lived - feeling of order. But in less than 24 hours, the dirty laundry demon is back with vengeance.
I don't understand people who enjoy doing laundry. I admire them, but I don't understand them. My mother is one of those people. Her laundry is never backed up. I think Mom is a laundry junkie. After having to wash laundry for my own family for a few years now, I'm fairly convinced no one could actually like laundry unless there's an illness involved. I think when dirty clothes start collecting on the laundry room floor, a little part of her gets excited and she just needs a hit. In goes the dirty darks. Ahhh ... that's good.
Not me. Give me a cup of coffee and a Snickers Marathon. Now that's my drug of choice!
Oh, dryer buzz ... time to switch!
Wednesday, July 15, 2009
What? These Three? No Way!
Yes, these three. These three are the wrecking crew that have invaded my house one little baby at a time. Looking at the picture above, it doesn't look possible that these three can wreak more havoc than a bunch of fraternity boys at a keg party. But it's true.
The oldest just turned five years old. He's the ring leader. The girls adore him and rightly so. He's a pistol. Moody, temperamental, high-strung, sweet, stubborn, perfectionist and sharp as a tack. He's full of energy and has an imagination that keeps me guessing who he's pretending to be from one minute to the next. And never have I seen a kid who likes to change clothes as much as the oldest does. It's exhausting. Every time I turn around he's sporting a new look. I can't keep up with what's clean and what's not. So, in our latest effort to police the amount of clothes he dirties up in a day, D and I have allowed the oldest to pack a gym bag. He can wear anything in the gym bag anytime he wants. If he strays outside the gym bag, he's dog meat. So far, it's working out well. Will keep you posted.
The middle is a firecracker. She's sweet and pretty. She has a great sense of humor and makes D and me laugh all the time. Aside from worrying about her being the middle child, she really hasn't presented any challenges that ... well, can't be controlled. Of course she has her occasional temper tantrum. And she gets into some fashion of trouble pretty regularly. But for the most part she's really pleasant. My fear is she's not getting the attention she deserves. You know ... not the oldest and not the baby. The husband and I make specific efforts to share with her all the great qualities God has given her. Her sweet nature (with a strong hint of zesty sass) is hypnotizing. I just keep holding my breath, waiting for her to act out or up. She's three years old. Wiser women tell me the middle will make her way in time ... it's called teen years. Wah!!!
The youngest just started walking. Need I go any further? She's into EVERYTHING. The lazy susan hasn't seen this much action in years. She DEMANDS attention. At 13 months old, if she wants it - whatever it may be - she better dang well get it or her entire body stiffens out like a board, her face turns this pinkie-crimson sort of color and a squeal that could break glass erupts from her scrunched up little mouth. She follows the other two around. She sleeps all night - praise Jesus. And she laughs and smiles a lot. She's chubby and cute. Even the other two spoil her. It's yet to be seen what my major point of concern will be with her.
Well, that's just a overview of my these three kiddos. They are much deeper, more complicated and lovable than I could ever convey with mere words. When I look at them, snuggled together in momma and D's bed, I pray I never know a world without them ... my three!
The oldest just turned five years old. He's the ring leader. The girls adore him and rightly so. He's a pistol. Moody, temperamental, high-strung, sweet, stubborn, perfectionist and sharp as a tack. He's full of energy and has an imagination that keeps me guessing who he's pretending to be from one minute to the next. And never have I seen a kid who likes to change clothes as much as the oldest does. It's exhausting. Every time I turn around he's sporting a new look. I can't keep up with what's clean and what's not. So, in our latest effort to police the amount of clothes he dirties up in a day, D and I have allowed the oldest to pack a gym bag. He can wear anything in the gym bag anytime he wants. If he strays outside the gym bag, he's dog meat. So far, it's working out well. Will keep you posted.
The middle is a firecracker. She's sweet and pretty. She has a great sense of humor and makes D and me laugh all the time. Aside from worrying about her being the middle child, she really hasn't presented any challenges that ... well, can't be controlled. Of course she has her occasional temper tantrum. And she gets into some fashion of trouble pretty regularly. But for the most part she's really pleasant. My fear is she's not getting the attention she deserves. You know ... not the oldest and not the baby. The husband and I make specific efforts to share with her all the great qualities God has given her. Her sweet nature (with a strong hint of zesty sass) is hypnotizing. I just keep holding my breath, waiting for her to act out or up. She's three years old. Wiser women tell me the middle will make her way in time ... it's called teen years. Wah!!!
The youngest just started walking. Need I go any further? She's into EVERYTHING. The lazy susan hasn't seen this much action in years. She DEMANDS attention. At 13 months old, if she wants it - whatever it may be - she better dang well get it or her entire body stiffens out like a board, her face turns this pinkie-crimson sort of color and a squeal that could break glass erupts from her scrunched up little mouth. She follows the other two around. She sleeps all night - praise Jesus. And she laughs and smiles a lot. She's chubby and cute. Even the other two spoil her. It's yet to be seen what my major point of concern will be with her.
Well, that's just a overview of my these three kiddos. They are much deeper, more complicated and lovable than I could ever convey with mere words. When I look at them, snuggled together in momma and D's bed, I pray I never know a world without them ... my three!
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