Laundry laundry laundry, and it’s never ending sequels…

We’ve learned some things as a family of eleven when it comes to laundry.

Number one being if you want to make sure it gets done, do it yourself.

There is a chance if you put it in the dirty laundry basket at ten PM on a school night that it will show up clean and dry and fresh in your clean laundry basket in time for you to wear to school the next day.

There is also a pretty good chance it won’t.

Also if you come into your mom’s room when she is half asleep at ten PM and whisper ‘Mom will you put my clothes in the dryer when you wake up?’, there is a chance she will and you’ll have your favorite jeans to wear the next day.

There is also a chance she could be up in the night with babies and toddlers or any age kid, and sleep right through her alarms. Or hit snooze. Or just completely forget.

I have learned that folding clothes is a waste of my time.

I’ve learned that if I fold the clothes neatly and precisely and teach the kids how to organize their drawers Marie Kondo style, they will think that is so neat for about thirty seconds.

And then they will rummage and scrounge and dig and crumple and toss those clothes on the floor, the chair, the bed, the lamp, and the desk, the very next time they are looking for something to wear.

Hence wash, dry, fling.

When the clothes come out of the dryer I fling them into piles and flop them into their respective baskets.

They sometimes even toss them right back in the dirt laundry basket without wearing them when it’s time to clean up their rooms.

I have learned that I can charge them for non dirty clothes in my laundry, and that rarely happens anymore.

‘Who put this shirt that I clearly remember tossing in your clean basket less than 24 hours ago, and have not seen on a body since, in the dirty laundry?’

‘You can pay me a dollar for wasting my time’ ‘Oh you have no money?’ ‘Perfect I am sure there is a toilet that needs scrubbed.’

And no matter how many loads I have done and how many shopping trips we take, there will always be someone standing in a towel saying ‘I HAVE NOTHING TO WEAR!’

We have learned that a preteen girl who has ‘nothing to wear’ is not someone you can reason with, and arguing with one is just begging for tears and tantrums.

I have learned to hide some clothes just for these instances.

‘Oh lookie here a brand new pair of black leggings just sitting on this shelf waiting to be worn by a ten year old with nothing to wear!’

Or if a sister wants to wear another sister’s pants or shirt or dress I can use a new piece of clothing as a bargaining chip, ‘If you let her wear that dress, I’ll give you a brand new pair of leggings.’

Anything ‘brand new’ in a large family if highly coveted. Brand new doesn’t last that long and we are used to thrifting and hand me downs.

Even new socks. Or especially new socks. Especially when they start to care whether the socks match.

One thing I learned is not worth my time is mating socks. All girl socks get tossed in a basket, if you want sock mates, help yourself. We have found hoarded sock pairs in all kinds of random hiding spots in the house. If someone knows of a pair of matching socks, they will go to great lengths to get them.

‘I will give you TWO Dynamitas and half of my bite size Twix, AND you can sleep in my room tonight!’

I love it. Every bit of it.

I love seeing my 14 and 15 year old boys doing their own laundry, not because anyone is making them, or there is a schedule or task chart around it.

Just because they want clean clothes and they know how to go about getting them.

It also saves them from having to search for their clothes, because I usually guess when it comes to which pants or socks or undies go in which boy’s basket, and then I over hear them saying ‘I have your button up shirt, do you have my belt?’

What I also love is knowing that other moms are doing it the same way.

I had a conversation with a stranger while I was getting groceries once.

He commented on my ten pound bag of chicken breasts vs his two pound bag and said something about how I must have a few boys.

I told him yes a few boys and a few girls for a total of nine kids.

‘I was one of nine boys.’ He told me.

And asked ‘Do you have a padlock on your refrigerator?’

His mom did.

We chatted for a bit about large family life and it came out that his mom had taken ALL the boys socks at one point and put them in the bathtub with PURPLE dye.

Voila. No more searching for sock mates.

That is my kind of mama.

Wash. Dry. Dye. Fling.