A Rant by Tiffany

First, let's define rant, here's what Wiktionary had to say about this noun...

1. A criticism done by ranting.
2. A wild, incoherent, emotional articulation.

Laundry, I hate it. There is nothing I enjoy about laundry. It was and still is taking me forever to get it done today. Surely I've mentioned before, a phenomenon that, once again, I became aware of today. It is a plight of all talented multi-tasking mom's out there. I know, for a fact, that my laundry should not be taking me this long. Then it occurred to me, the actual laundry part of things isn't taking me long at all. Let me explain, eh I mean rant a bit...

• I hear the dryer turn off, I finish my last bit of sandwich, get up and head to get the next load going. I notice the shoes all over the floor, pick up and distribute 5 pairs of shoes to their respective places. Notice while I'm in the boys' room that the water from last night has tipped over so I grab a towel to soak up the water, pick up the dirty clothes that have been kicked under the bed, put the water bottle in the sink, return to the towel to add that to the laundry pile also. Grab the clean clothes basket from my room only to find that the cat has shredded and distributed a piece of tissue paper all over. I stop to pick that up, grab the basket again and unload the dryer. The dry clothes finally make their way to the basket and I clean out the filter. While tossing the lint into the waste basket in the boys' bathroom, I marvel (or seethe if I'm being honest) at their ability to take a bathroom that I just cleaned up yesterday afternoon and turn it into something nasty. I grab the hand towel and use it to clean up toothpaste, water, mouthwash and other, no need to mention, gross stuff then toss it into the laundry basket. I put away the toothbrushes, combs, hair brush, Band-aids and deodorant (that neither really need but have to have because Dad uses it). I return to the washer and notice, while moving the clothes from the washer to the dryer, that the cat almost got all of his business into the litter box. I finish moving the clothes to the dryer, clean the litter box and the mess that didn't quite make it, wash my hands and head back to the task of laundry. My next load going into the washer is darks, I remember that both of the boys were wearing dark pajamas this morning but I don't see them in my pile. Checking under the couch, because if you put your dirty clothes under the couch you can skip that chore and mom will never find out, to find not just the pajamas but socks, pants and a plethora of toys under there too. Toss the toys into the toy bucket that is all of 2 feet away, retrieve all the clothes, grab the dustpan and little broom to sweep up the dust bunnies and other little food bits I find then head, once again, back to the washer. Okay, the clothes are finally in the washer, close it up and find that my little cap that measures out my soap is missing. I ask Oliver, who just happened to help with one load of laundry yesterday what happened to it, "Oh, it's outside in my sandbox." What? Why? Never mind, I don't want to know so I run out, retrieve it and wash the sand off of it. Since I'm in my kitchen, washing the sand off of the cap, Oliver asks for something to drink. I pour him a quick glass of milk but he grabs it too fast and spills half of it on his "superhero gloves" and the floor. Convince him to let me wash the gloves by digging through the closet to find another pair of "superhero gloves", mop up the milk that spilled on the floor and counter and head towards the washer again. Half way there I realize that I've forgotten the cap in the kitchen, turn around and accidentally kick a Hot Wheels car. Grab that car and a few others that have migrated throughout the house, grab my cap, head back, drop the cars off in the playroom. Since I'm in the playroom and it's a mess too, I think I'll just take a minute and toss the big stuff back to where it belongs, just so we can get in and out without having to step on toys or costumes. Pride myself in not forgetting the cap for the laundry soap again, grab it off of the dresser in the playroom and head, AGAIN, back to the washer. Standing in my way, Oliver says, "can I help? I want to put the soap in." I, wanting to encourage help with any chore, let him help me even though I know it's going to take a couple minutes more than if I just did it myself. The soap is finally in, Oliver has started the washer, I'm just about to walk away and the dryer turns off. I have a moment of panic thinking that it's broken because the clothes can't possibly be dry yet. The dryer is too new to be broken!! Maybe I just set it wrong, please let it be that I just set it wrong, opening the dryer I find the clothes all dry, nicely warm, then it hits me. The dryer is fine, it just took me THAT LONG to get the next load going. It's no wonder that I feel like I am doing laundry all day every day.

Thanks for listening to my rant, I have to go now, there's laundry to be done!