People warn you when you become a parent that your children will be grown up before you know it. And most parents of young children, swamped in a sea of diapers and baby Tylenol and butt wipes don’t listen. And even if they did listen, they wouldn’t believe it. After all, those babies they are holding are tiny. Helpless. Dependent on their parents for everything.
And then one day, those very same parents look up and realize that there haven’t been any diapers or baby Tylenol or butt wipes in the house for a very long time. And in fact that little baby who depended on them for everything is now a teenager. And that’s when the parent-er, me, in case you were wondering-looks up and realizes one thing.
I have not taught my child to do his own laundry.
I know, right? How did I not teach my son how to do laundry? Look, the truth is, I have taught him the basics. How to toss clothes into the hamper. How to take said clothing out of the hamper and toss it into the machine. How to then start the machine and wash the clothes. But that was a few years ago. And in another house. Heck, I’d be surprised if he can find the laundry room today.
Not to mention the fact that there’s a lot more to laundry than just washing clothes, right?
I mean, there are entire books written about stain removal. And hello? What about grouping colors together? And fabric care. Not to mention the age-old questions about what to dry on high and what to dry on the line. Training Junior on the nuances of fabric care could take decades. Not to mention the battles we are going to have when I actually insist he do all his laundry, not just a couple of loads for training purposes.
You know, I wonder sometimes what the heck was I thinking waiting so long to fully train him. I mean, it’s not like I don’t look at piles of dirty laundry every single day of my life. And it’s not like I don’t do at least one load every single day of my life. So it’s kind of weird that I have not yet taken my son under my wing and taught him the many mysteries of stain removal and why we never wash tighty-whiteys with black t-shirts.
Of course the worst part is, I can see my future. If Junior doesn’t graduate from my School of Laundry I am destined to be that mother whose child comes home on the weekends with a duffel bag filled with stinky clothes and expects that when he leaves, the duffel bag will be magically filled with the same clothing—only not stinky.
Yeah, I am so not going to be that mother.
So you know what? I am starting the laundry training now. Because Junior is growing up fast and I really don’t want to be that mom whose son drops off his laundry at her house.
Of course, first I have to program the GPS in his phone to find the laundry room.Add me to your rss reader | Become a Fan on Facebook!