This morning started per usual: I got up at 6:55, Mack got up at 7, I packed her lunch while she ate breakfast wearing a Godzilla snuggie, I made a Shakeology for myself, and we both went upstairs to change into our respective clothing. While we were upstairs, Mack shouted, “Mommy, come here. I have something for you.” Usually this means she has a surprise hug or kiss waiting for me, so I went down the hall to find out she had pulled out her laundry hamper for me.
To say that we have rules in our house would be misleading. Rules give an indication that there are negative repercussions for things or there are really strict guidelines. Other than not saying the words “stupid” or “hate”, we tend to follow recommendations of what to do (and what not to do). Where we lack in rules, we definitely make up for in recommendations. One of those recommendations is that if you are able-bodied enough to drag your hamper to the hallway, you are able-bodied enough to do your own laundry. As such, everyone in my household does their OWN laundry. People ask how I have time to do things – well, sometimes it’s because I’m only responsible for my own laundry.
My husband is 43. In theory, this means he has three years more experience in laundry than I do, but we all know that isn’t necessarily the case. Nonetheless, I do not do his laundry. He has his own hamper, and when he’s out of clothes he has to do them. That might mean we have a pile of clean laundry on our bedroom floor for a while until he puts them away, but I’m willing to live with that since 1) I am not often giving tours of our bedroom and, 2) I had to do zero work to accomplish this task for him. If he needs the clothes to be wrinkle-free, he knows how to put them away right after they come out of the dryer.
Mack is treated with the same respect. She is nine, she knows how to use the washer and dryer, and she knows how to put all her clothes away neatly. This is borne out of a need for her to learn responsibility and also out of my need to NOT do other people’s laundry. Mack does hers once a week, I do mine every 10-14 days, and Josh is a mystery that is totally dependent upon which shirts he needs clean.
Now, back to this morning. While Mack understands her laundry is her responsibility, she tends to be more pitiful in the mornings and tries to take advantage of that. Meanwhile, I loathe mornings as much as she does so I rarely cave to any level of pitifulness. I informed her I was thankful she had prepared her laundry so efficiently and instructed her that when she takes it downstairs and starts the washer, I might be so inclined to move them to the dryer for her during the day so she can put them away when she gets home. Begrudgingly, she thanked me and did so. Now I get to look forward to the time SAVED by not putting her laundry away later. Maybe I’ll do some pottery at that time. Maybe I’ll crochet an alpaca. The point is, I’m not doing it and she understands what a time suck it is and will be more gracious with me the next time I do endeavor to help her with something. It’s a win-win.
Also, you might be asking how I get away with NOT doing my husband’s laundry. The answer is I never started that. I have found doing those things randomly leads to expectations, and that’s not anything I need to set for myself or others. The only times we do laundry for one another is when we lose a bet, and even then the bet is usually something like, “you have to put your laundry away as soon as you take it out of the dryer…for a month.” You’d be amazed how few bets your spouse takes when you make bets like that.
