Scaling Mt Never-rest

Laundry is an ongoing challenge in a family of ten. Although, if I were to be completely honest, laundry was difficult when mine was only a family of three. But, I digress. In the interest of humoring others who may (or may not) share my challenge, this is to give you courage to scale the heights of Mt Washmore, Mt. Foldmore, pushing all the way to the very top of Mt. Never-rest, the highest height of motherdom.

The pile is what won't fit anywhere else.
The laundry sorter is full, the blue hamper in the  middle of the page is full.
Laundry is getting out of control!

Here is my exploding pile of laundry, and the photos just don't do justice. Although the pile looked huge when I cowered at its base, somehow it shrunk between the basement and the computer. So, you'll have to take my word for it; the pile is was HUGE. Later, I'll post some beautiful pictures of what it looks most of the time, when Mt. Washmore hasn't recently erupted and Mt. Foldmore is under control.

You are probably wondering, what did I do? How did I manage to so effortlessly scale the heights of Mt. Washmore? Well, the honest answer is, I didn't. My children did. Ah yes, I've learned the art of delegation. I'm mastering it, you might say. Each child is responsible to start and fold at least one basket of laundry a day. And, since we have an extra large capacity front-loading washer, each basket is at least two regular loads.

Though my children don't necessarily enjoy helping with laundry, they all understand the concept; you don't wash, you don't wear. I didn't really know how to do laundry when I left home. Somehow my clothes were always clean when I needed them, and every once in a (great) while, my mother would call me to come help hang Dad's work shirts when the buzzer buzzed on the dryer. Beyond that, laundry was a mystery.

You can imagine my shock, horror, and fear when I realized I must scale the heights of Mt. Washmore, on my own, regularly! Then, just when I was beginning to get the handle of Mt. Washmore, Mt. Foldmore erupted, explosively, all over my house! Adding to the craziness was the arrival of a new baby girl, complete with spit up and dirty (cloth) diapers. Suddenly I found myself at the base of Mt. Never-rest, quivering and quacking. It looked insurmountable, overwhelming, and beyond my ability to comprehend.

But, thanks to a few tips from other "climbers" I noticed the hand holds, the small steps that could be taken, and the ropes that would catch me when I fell. My favorite "rope" is the laundromat. Yes, the infamous laundromat, where you can wash and dry countless loads of laundry, all at once, and get them folded on tables specifically designed for that purpose.

It has been quite some time since I've resorted to taking all my clothes to the laundromat, but knowing that option is available does bring comfort.  In the end, though, my biggest piece of insight is, just keep swimming. Laundry, like dirty dishes or stinky toilets, never goes away. It just keeps being generated, day after day. And, as a very wise woman once told me, when the laundry piles and dish piles and chore piles finally go away, I'll miss the children who helped create them.  Until then, I'll keep climbing.

Major Multi-tasking

As a mother of many, I've gotten used to multi-tasking. It doesn't look the same as it might in the corporate world, but it is multi-tasking all the same. Recently my ability was challenged as it has never been challenged before. Yes, it happened in the bathroom. For some reason, most of my funniest moments are either in the bathroom or related to something that should take place in a bathroom.

We were visiting my parents when one of my girls called me to, you guessed it, the bathroom. The finicky toilet was acting up and Mom needed to fix it. Recognizing that the toilet wasn't just acting up, but that it was rapidly filling up, I lifted the tank lid to try and stop the water flow. It didn't work! With the water line fast approaching the rim of the toilet bowl, I carefully moved the heavy porcelain lid (with one hand!) and set it aside. Then I grabbed the toilet plunger and went to work on the toilet. Soon, the water was moving the right direction and disaster was averted.

So, you say, where is the multi-tasking in all that? Well, let me tell you. I was not alone as I saved my mother's bathroom from certain destruction (ok, maybe it wasn't that bad). My infant son crawled in just about the time I removed the toilet tank lid. He then crawled up to me and stood up between my legs. It was quite entertaining trying to plunge a toilet with an 8-month old baby alternately reaching for the toilet and pulling on my jeans!

Diapering Disaster

Last night, through the night, I got wet. My infant son was sleeping beside me so that I could more easily attend his needs; like Dr. Bill Sears, we have a "family" bed. It usually saves me trouble and allows me to get back to sleep quickly after 4 am feedings. Usually. Last night, I got wet. This morning, I had to change my pajamas, my pillowcases, and my sheets, because the reason I got wet was a leaky diaper.

I'm a mom. I've been changing diapers for 12 years, and with six kids, that's a lot of diapers. My oldest daughter, who has been around for most of those diaper changes, is a huge help at home. She can fix a simple meal if I need her to. She can run to the corner grocery or pick up mail. She can even watch her siblings for short periods, freeing me up to work on things she can't do. My oldest daughter has even changed her fair share of diapers over the years.

Last night, though, my oldest daughter was no diapering expert. She put the diaper on wrong! Somehow, she didn't get the diaper on straight or something, because the diaper stayed dry and everything around it got wet! You may be wondering why I didn't realize earlier in the night that I had a problem. Actually, I wonder that myself! When I finally discovered that the diaper was leaking, it was an "ah ha" moment. Unfortunately, that moment didn't come until my brain actually had the capacity to have such a realization and by then, the night was over and it was too late.

It could be worse; much worse. I could live some place without disposable diapers. I could lives somewhere without diapers. I could live some where without washing machines. So, in the grand scheme of things, if my oldest daughter isn't a diaper genie, I can live with it. What I can't live with is a world without children, even if it means my son soaks me instead of his diaper. There are much worse disasters.