People warn you when you become a parent that your children will
be grown up before you know it. And most parents of young children,
swamped in a sea of diapers and baby Tylenol and butt wipes don’t
listen. And even if they did listen, they wouldn’t believe it.
After all, those babies they are holding are tiny. Helpless.
Dependent on their parents for everything.
People warn you when you become a parent that your children will be grown up before you know it. And most parents of young children, swamped in a sea of diapers and baby Tylenol and butt wipes don’t listen. And even if they did listen, they wouldn’t believe it. After all, those babies they are holding are tiny. Helpless. Dependent on their parents for everything.
And then one day, those very same parents look up and realize that there haven’t been any diapers or baby Tylenol or butt wipes in the house for a very long time. And in fact that little baby who depended on them for everything is now a teenager. And that’s when the parent – er, me, in case you were wondering – looks up and realizes one thing.
I have not taught my child to do his own laundry.
I know, right? How did I not teach my son how to do laundry? I mean, it’s not like I don’t look at piles of dirty laundry every single day of my life. And it’s not like I don’t do at least one load every single day of my life. So it’s kind of weird that I have not yet taken my son under my wing and taught him the many mysteries of stain removal.
And the worst part is, I can see my future. If I don’t teach Junior to do laundry I am destined to be that mother whose child comes home on the weekends with a duffel bag filled with stinky clothes and expects that when he leaves, the duffel bag will be magically filled with the same clothing – only not stinky.
Yeah, I am so not going to be that mother.
But I have many obstacles in my quest to teach laundry independence. For one thing, Junior is very much like his father. Harry has not done laundry since we were young and dating. One rainy Sunday afternoon he took my laundry to a local laundromat. When my laundry returned, it had been shrunken to half its normal size.
So because I have a close, personal relationship with my clothing and I like it when it actually fits, I have never allowed Harry to do one load of laundry again. And yes, I’m pretty sure he planned this out in advance.
Anyway, that is why neither Harry nor Junior does laundry. Heck, for all I know, they don’t even know where the laundry room is. Oh sure, on some level they realize that there is a mysterious room in our house where dirty clothes go in and then are miraculously de-stinkified and folded so they can wear them and start the process all over again.
And there was that one time that Harry ventured deep into the recesses of the laundry room to determine whether or not the washing machine was terminal. But other than that, I think they view clean laundry as something that just happens. To be fair, I don’t know where the barbecue lives or how it works, either. I just know that raw meat leaves our home and comes back medium-rare.
But still. It all comes back to laundry. I should have started this training sooner. My sister started training her kids to do laundry very early on. And they are now stain-free adults. And she never had weekends where dirty clothes were dropped off at her house.
So you know what? I am starting the laundry training now. Because Junior is growing up fast and I really don’t want to be that mom whose son drops off his laundry at her house.
Of course, first I have to program the GPS in his phone to find the laundry room.
