Typical

At any given moment, this is what the floor of my bedroom looks like: two loads waiting to be folded, one load waiting to be put away.


Or the floor of the living room: yet another 2 or 3 loads waiting patiently to be folded.


Or the floor of the laundry room: usually one load in the washer, one in the dryer, one waiting to be brought upstairs and one more waiting on the floor for its turn through the dizzy machine.


I am perpetually behind on laundry.

On Sunday I was a Good Mother. I changed all the bed linens, mine included, and remade all the beds. Shaun breathed deeply when he slipped his feet between his sheets and pushed them to the end of his bed and said his bed smelled like the sun. Somehow I felt like it was a better sleep than all the others. Clean sheets will do that to a person, you know.

Then Shaun came in our room this morning and said he had dribbled pee in his jammies. There was only a small amount on his sheets, Craig informed me this morning, but it was enough to have to wash the fitted sheet again. While I was stripping Shaun's bed, Craig started telling me about how he had woken up last night in the middle of the night and was completely soaked with sweat. So soaked, that he had to towel off and then place the towel on his side of the bed so he wasn't sleeping in damp sheets. So I changed our sheets, too.

Today I was not a Good Mother. I forgot about Shaun's bed and instead of putting new sheets on his bed at bedtime, I straightened out his top sheet and told him to lay there, promising to remake his bed in the morning. I still haven't remade my bed.

And I wonder why I'm always staring at a pile of laundry.