Washed Up

I have a very strict laundry schedule.  Mondays I wash sheets.  Tuesdays are towels.  Wednesdays I wash the kids' clothes and Thursday I wash my and Wade's.  I have it written out on a piece of paper... somewhere. And sometimes I even stick to the schedule.

On the weeks when I follow my strict laundry schedule, everything seems to go smoothly.  I don't feel overwhelmed by large monster-sized piles of clothes or bath towels.  I walk upstairs and it feels so big, so roomy, without having to step over the separated lights, darks and reds (my mom can at least be proud that she raised me well enough to do that) looming in the hallway.

It's not just the laundry.  When I stick to my laundry schedule, I tend to be better about vacuuming.  Most likely because I can see the carpet.  It's easier to get ready in the morning, both for me and for the kids.  Instead of trying to piece together an outfit, Sophie can pull her favorite shirt from her drawer and off she goes.  I don't have to try on all my clean pants to see what fits me, when the laundry is done I just have to grab my sweats and head to the bus stop.  My house feels more organized, and therefore my life feels more organized. 

One would think, then, that I would stay on top of the laundry to ensure that the rest of my life is running smoothly.  One would be wrong.  It starts on Mondays when I forget that I'm supposed to wash the sheets.  Or I remember that afternoon, when I know I won't have everything washed and dried before bedtime.  That means that I put the clean sheets on the beds, but the dirty ones are in a pile on the laundry room floor.  Tuesday, already feeling behind, I get to work washing the sheets, and pile the towels in the hallway upstairs.  Wednesday is when things really fall apart.  I start the morning sorting the kids' clothes, but rarely get to putting them in the wash before heading out for the day.  That means that Thursday I have sheets, towels, clothes for three kids and two adults and, lest we not forget, the cloth diapers, too boot.  Needless to say, I rarely get caught up.  And all too often, I'm so overwhelmed that I don't even get started.

It seems that for every good laundry week I have, there are two or three bad ones.  For some reason, I can think of three off hand, I just can't seem to get it together the way I imagine most people do.  I do have high expectations for myself.  My mom is the perfect homemaker.  She works very hard and it shows.  Her house is clean.  Yes yes, she no longer has kids at home, but it was clean even when the three of us did live in her home.  And I don't remember stepping over heaps of laundry when I was growing up either.  Although, I do remember one time when my mom had covered her bed in folded laundry, ready to be put away, and my brother and sister jumped on the bed, creating a huge laundry mess.  My mom sat on the edge of the bed and cried.

I think, all too often, I try to live up to her standards, and when it becomes clear that I can't, I just give up completely.  So I'm trying to set my own standards.  I'm working towards understanding what my limits are and reaching those, rather than always trying to go beyond and being disappointed.  I'm also working on remembering to wash the sheets on Monday, so that the rest of my week, in more ways than just laundry, gets off to the right start.

Today is Wednesday and I just heard the laundry buzzer.  I'm happy to report that I am currently washing the kids' clothes.  From last week.  Maybe next week will be the good laundry week.