In theory, all dirty clothes would get placed in the hamper, then brought downstairs every few days. The clothes would all get washed, and all socks would get evenly paired together. The hamper would then get refilled with clean clothes and carried back upstairs, and everything would be promptly unloaded into the proper drawers and bins, which are even labeled.
In theory, there would be no clothes on the floor, no socks in the lego drawers (??), and no clean clothes mixed with dirty clothes in piles scattered about. There is an ease and certainty to these theories that make them....impossible to follow?? How is that?
I don't mind airing a little dirty laundry (no pun intended) by telling you that clean clothes come back downstairs mixed with dirty clothes. And that for every eight socks I put into the washer, I get seven back from the dryer. And that I've found Sunday school clothes in the pajama drawer. (gasp on that last one.) I've got more laundry issues than I can say grace over.
And yet, for all the almost-cuss words I mutter while sorting and folding and hanging and shuffling outfits about, I'm oddly sentimental about my kids' clothes. I get sad when they outgrow certain things because there are memories attached to them. I loved how handsome Max looked in his western Wrangler shirts. I remember the exact outfits Emma wore when she took her first steps and celebrated her first birthday and climbed up the slide at the park for the very first time. And I remember the "I Love Guinea Pig" tee shirt that Hayden got for Christmas years ago and wore to bed every single night forever and ever. Maybe it's my sentimentality that makes it hard for me to clean out closets and get rid of clothes.
Or maybe it's sheer laziness.
Either way, when days like today roll around they are positively overwhelming. Today I sorted through MANY boxes and piles that have accumulated over time. I've been putting it off because I knew I'd get sad sorting through all of Emma's baby outfits, and I was so right!! Her fuzzy little sleep sacks, and her little smocked church dresses, and her tiny little footie pajamas were so fun to hold, and almost impossible to put into the resale box.
I don't even know what to say about the boy clothes. I swear the outfits they put on before breakfast no longer fit them by the time the supper bell chimes. They have looooong legs and biiiiiig feet, and it seems like it happened overnight. Anyway, today I picked and gathered and fluffed and folded, and at long last loaded my parcels and shoved off to the resale shop, where I was offered a poultry sum for four laundry baskets full of sentimental memories.
But, the closets are now clean and organized and ready for (bigger) new clothes for fall. And the hamper is stationed properly in the corner, looking hopeful. And because I have a sickness that can never be totally cured, I have one of these tucked away safely on the top shelf...
.....and of course, the I Love Guinea Pigs tee shirt hidden in a special place too. I also got a little head start on preparing for fall, which is important since temperatures plummeted from 105 to 101 today, so we're clearly flirting with imminent sweater weather. The way the resale shop works is you sell six items of clothing to earn enough money to buy one. :) Oh well. I got this cute little sweater for Emma, and two pairs of Nordstroms jeans for the boys for $6 each.
I just hope they don't outgrow them by dinnertime.