Blast from the Past Saturday

Every Saturday, I post a previous post, usually from about a year ago (although I might go back further if I feel like it). Enjoy!

Today's post is my very first post on my blog. Of course, it's a frustrated parenting moment. And it involves laundry. I vowed I would never do it again, but sadly, I had to repent of my vow, and I now do a load a day. Luckily, I can do it in the luxury of my own home. No longer must I truck up and down two flights of stairs, with a 2.5 year old, an 18 month old and while pregnant.

Image by Shirley Glennon, original can be found here.

From May 26, 2005:
I Am Not Going to Do Laundry Again

I am not going to do laundry again. We are just going to wear stuff once, then throw it away.

I've been doing laundry all day. First off, I hauled four loads down to the laundry facilities (about a block away) with Xander while Max was asleep. I put the quarters in, then started the machines. I forgot the soap. No way to stop the machines. So I literally RUN home, with Xander in the stroller, grab the soap, run back. Did I mention it was $2 a wash??? It's too late. Let machines run without soap (they are front loading and lock). Come back later after David drops off some more quarters. He leaves again for his second job. Start machines (this time with both boys and soap). Then come back (still with both boys), change laundry. Go back again (both boys come again). Fold laundry while I'm there. Boys "help" by putting socks in the trash. Fish out socks. Max won't leave the dryer doors open. Xander starts this too, smacks Maxton in the head. Crying. Somehow manage to get us, the four loads and the stroller back to the bottom of the stairs. Boys will not come up the stairs. Run one basket up, then run down (luckily they were occupied by playing under the stairs). Convince Xander to go up stairs, Max will not budge. Take basket of laundry out of stroller, put stroller away under stairs, grab Max, throw him in the basket on top of the folded laundry, go up two flights of stairs. Get Max out of the basket. Now they will not come inside. I threaten, bribe, cajole. Nope. Put basket on couch. Grab boys and march them inside. Then I managed to get both baskets to our bed where they will be safe.

Now I am eating a huge bowl of ice cream and ignoring my children.