5 Essential tips to avoid laundry pile-up and bring peace to your home.

I love doing laundry! And I always stay on top of my laundry because I love to do it so much. No piles of clean or dirty clothes in my home!

BAH! Who am I kidding? Does that happen? Ever? Does anyone do that? I’ve never even experienced the feeling of a load a day that gets washed, dried, folded and put away in the same day! Well, maybe once a long long time ago…

I don’t know about you, but I’ve struggled endlessly with a huge and very nasty laundry monster. Come on, admit it! You do it too! We all have at one time or another, and for me it’s been so frequent that at one point I considered buying a bigger house so the beast would have a room of his own.

Despite the best of intentions, life often gets in the way and our responsibilities can be overwhelming. It is only the most energetic and organized among us who never has the occasional pile of laundry lying around. It’s bad enough when it’s a pile of dirty laundry, but my troubles have always been with clean clothes.

We know how it’s suppose to be done, and beat ourselves up regularly when we don’t live up to that ideal. But with a busy schedule and 5 million things to do, it used to be common for me to bring the freshly washed and dried basket into my room to be put away later. Most of the time I didn’t have time to follow through, and it would sit there. Committed to washing a load every day to keep the dirty pile under control, I’d wash another load and the same thing happened. And another, until the pile was larger than me and tackling it felt like I was about to climb Mount Everest. Without the view! Sometimes I would fold the clothes as they came out of the dryer, but leave them in a neat pile in the basket to be put away later. Guess what? More often than not, those neatly folded clothes became non-wearable wrinkled mess again from me pawing through it to find something to wear.

I’ve even tried piling the clothes on the bed, thinking that would FORCE me to put them away before bed. Unfortunately I would often get busy and/or distracted, then find myself ready to collapse in my bed…but DAMN! There is a mountain of clothes in the way! So, I would move them to a chair, a bench or any other surface I deemed appropriate at the time. I finally decided I wouldn’t do that anymore. That pile of laundry looming made me feel so bad about myself, like I was failing as an adult.

Believe it or not, after years of struggling with this I finally come up with a solution that works for us. That’s the key, you must have realistic expectations and find a solution that really works seamlessly in your home.

This is what works in my house:

1. Hang everything I hang all t-shirts, tops, pants and carpis. If it can be hung on a hanger, it is. The only things I fold and put away are shorts and pajamas and sheets and towels. I have a small portable “closet” hanging bar in the laundry room so clothes get hung directly from the dryer. Usually that’s where they live until I wear them again. I’m ok with that.

2. Basket/hampers for everyone. We each have one in our room. Dirty clothes go in and clean clothes come out. It really isn’t that simple, and yet it its!

3. Delegate: the kids do their own laundry! That’s right, slave labor, baby! I started having them help me put laundry away years ago when they were really small. When they got bigger, I would hang and fold and they would put them away. By the time they were 8 and 11, they were hanging, folding and putting their own clothes away and within a year my older daughter was doing the laundry as her “chore.” Skylar, who is 10 now, knows HOW to do it but she’s much smaller and has difficulty reaching all the way to the bottom of the washer. She’ll do it if asked, or if there’s a specific thing she wants to wear that’s dirty, but she asks her sister for help. They don’t always do a perfect job, but I am very proud of the job they do. I like an organized closet, with clothes hanging grouped by type but Skylar doesn’t really like to be that tedious. She prefers to just hang everything together. I may come in and move some things around to help her find them later, but having them clean and in the closet is better than in any pile! I get a weird sense of satisfaction to look in their closets and see neatly hanging, organized clothes. I feel like I’m teaching them something I missed as a child that will make their life less cluttered and stressful when they are on their own someday.

4. Pick a day to wash I usually only do laundry once a week, on Sunday. I treat it as something we must do to prepare for the week ahead and make a big production out of it. However, there are times when we go through more laundry than others and I’ll throw a load in throughout the week. Or better yet, I’ll text my kid and ask her too!

5. NEVER EVER TAKE CLEAN CLOTHES OUT OF THE LAUNDRY ROOM I’m absolutely serious, this is key and like the ONE hard and fast rule in my house. The clean clothes do not come out of that room unless they are being put away or worn. I’ve had people say “I can’t do that, you must have a huge laundry room!” but no, I don’t. There is barely enough room to walk, but if I wanted to walk I’d go to the park! I’ve learned that the clothes may pile up in there, but it’s far better to have three smaller separated mountains in that room (we all avoid it like the plaque anyway) than to have one giant one taking over my bed, bedroom or sofa. I have the girls put their clothes away on Sunday nights usually, but if not their baskets sit neatly in that room until they do.

This system works really well for us now, but it took years to figure it out and get to this point. I hope you find some of these ideas useful for your own home! Good luck and happy washing!

Saturday Sillies - you make me sick!

Welcome to the new installment to my blog, Saturday Sillies. My plan was to find the most bizarre thing I could find on the internet to share today. I know there can be some doozies out there, lots of hilarious stuff to get you laughing and uplift the spirit for the weekend. But, the most bizarre thing happened to ME yesterday! It wasn’t funny in the moment, but afterward I got a good laugh.

Anyone who knows me knows I have a terribly unhealthy view on relationships…I know it too. I don’t want one. Ever. I will never be the girl who pines away in loneliness and dreams of Mr. Perfect. Nope, not gonna happen. I don’t believe in Mr. Perfect for starters, I can’t stand the idea of being controlled, and I have little girls whose safety I would never risk so that I can have some fun. Not to mention the old adage “I don’t need no man!”

A series of bad experiences and a case of relationship PTSD (no, I’m not kidding!) is the reason for my refusal to participate. However, as I learn about myself and why I see the world the way I do, I am coming to understand, or at least I can acknowledge the possibility, that not every man is bad, and it is possible to have a great romantic relationship. I know the girls will learn from me what to expect from the men in their lives. So, I’m coming around. Slowly. Not that I will ever want one, but I can at least see it’s possible. To that end, I have been in observation mode, watching the people I come in contact with, evaluating them and asking questions about their current and past relationships.

I’ve also mentioned I’m conflict-avoidant, but I haven’t told you that it isn’t just that I would rather not have conflict. It is much more serious than that! I have a physical reaction when I’m in conflict with someone, which I believe has to do with my feeling of losing control. It’s like a fight or flight response, adrenaline courses through my body, my blood pressure goes up and I start sweating. My pulse races, and I feel like I’m overheating. Although I have no interest in men or relationships, I have occasionally met a person I felt attracted to: I’m still alive, after all. Sadly, the few times it’s happened, my body reacted the same way it does in a conflict situation. It hasn’t happened in a long time, so I thought it was no longer a thing.

Anyway, yesterday I had what I thought was a sinus headache all morning. Unfortunately I didn’t have any sinus medicine or ibuprofen with me, but I figured it would go away on it’s own eventually, which it seemed to be.

A gentleman from out of town called with some questions and wanted to come by my office to pick something up. When he arrived I was immediately struck by how handsome he was, but only in a general way, not the Ima faint because he’s so gorgeous way. We chatted, and I took some photos of him in case my editor wanted a story written about him. He was so nice, outgoing and engaging but again, that was just an observation.

Turns out he had been dropped off at my office while the people he was with ran an errand. I was stuck with him, and he sat down at my desk to chat. The first thing I noticed was that my headache was getting worse. It got so bad in fact that I couldn’t seem to concentrate on anything. I was looking for an old article to show him, but I couldn’t find it. My head hurt so badly by this point that I could hardly see the screen, and the dates and file names were all jumbled, I couldn’t make sense of them at all.

I finally gave up trying to find the article, explaining briefly that my head hurt very badly, making it difficult, and I would try again a little later. I was miserable and really wanted him to leave, but as I sat there listening to him talk about his degree, his career experience and current wonderful job in local government where he lives I couldn’t help but think: he’s good looking, educated, successful and really, really nice… Then I began to sweat. Profusely. It felt like someone had a blow torch aimed at me, seriously. My head was pounding, and I was dripping sweat. My ears began to ring, and I became almost overwhelmed by the strange feelings I was having. At that point I actually put my hand to my sweaty head, and I’m looking at this guy thinking “he’s cute for sure, but dang I don’t feel like I’m having a reaction to him, what the heck is going on?” At that moment my stomach lurched and I realized I was about to be sick. I ran as fast as I could, leaving him sitting at my desk alone, hoping desperately that I would make it to the bathroom in time.

I never get sick like that. Like ever. When I came out of the bathroom, cutie patootie was still there. Thankfully he had wondered off and found someone else to talk to. He is such a nice guy that he didn’t even look at me funny. He never missed a beat, smiling and chatting with anyone who would listen. But I was mortified, and so very relived when he finally left. I’m not sure if it was the headache, a reaction to him, or what, but it didn’t happen again after he left. If that’s how I react to having a conversation with a good looking guy, I guess it’s a really good thing I’m not hoping for a relationship! LOL

Do you have a funny or bizarre story you’d like to share? Please do, I would love to read it!

Mom part duex - the good stuff!

Yesterday’s post Mom’s birthday – why I dreaded it was real. And real long! It was also just a brief outline. I’ve been thinking about her all day, about the fact that even a flawed diamond has multiple facets that gleam in the light.

I want to write a follow up to share all of her great qualities. It has been so many years now since I experienced this part of her, I don’t often think about it. The good side of her also had a huge impact on who I am, and there are even some ways I’m proud to say I’m very much like her.

By focusing on the positive I am in no way justifying the other things, I’m simply shifting perspective. As I’ve said before, we all tend to remember bad things. The truth is, it is more involved than just a tendency. We’re wired to remember painful things as a safety mechanism to prevent repeating mistakes that hurt us. Additionally, all of us have both good and bad characteristics, it’s the nature of humanity. Mom was no exception. Back in the day Mom was a hippy chic who wore long flowing dresses and had really long, perfectly straight blonde hair. Everyone knew her as Dallas, even though that wasn’t her given name. She carried her baby (that would be me) around in a wicker laundry basket. She had tons of hippy friends, too, and they had parties and get-togethers all the time. There was always tons of food, tons of liquor and us kids running around in varying degrees of dress and covered in dirt, but oh so happy! The smell of patchouli reminds me of those fun days and those (mostly) wonderful warm, yet incredibly quirky, people who were in and out of my life as a child. Mom is definitely where my creative genius comes from, she could make something stunning out of nothing, She was not stingy with her time, either, at least not when I was younger. She sewed my clothes and made wonderful things for me. Like the chunky wooden puzzles she made when I was very little by painting scenes from Robin Hood onto plywood. She used a saw to cut out random shapes for the pieces. I still have them both because she thought to mount them and keep them safe all these years. One year she spent months building a dollhouse from scratch. She used cardboard and duct tape (you can make anything out of duct tape!) to make the basic two story structure, and furniture for all the rooms from cardboard, as well. She used craft sticks to finish all the pieces to make them look like they were made of wood. I still have the little dresser with an attached mirror and working drawers, made from matchboxes with brass brads for knobs. The stairs had craft stick risers, and she framed tiny art prints for the wall. She used clay to make doll sized dishes, firing them in our oven, and she sewed curtains and bedding. I played with that doll house for years, and it was far better than any plastic store bought one could be. At Halloween she always made amazing costumes. Once she made a dog costume, hand sewn from brown and white fabric. I remember she used a toilet paper tube to form the nose and I thought it was hilarious. Another case of the apple didn’t fall far from the tree! For my own kids I once created Widget from Wow Wow Wubsy using a pizza box, paper towel rolls, and pink felt. Another thing she was awesome at, that I also happen to excel at, is school projects. She was always so helpful and creative when it came to making projects, whether it was a Greek amphitheater for a drama project or an induction contraption for the science fair. I have continued that tradition with my kids. Last year I taught Skylar how to paper mache’ when we created a pink piggy bank for her history project and I helped Cameron make an Egyptian diorama, complete with “stone” columns and plants.

She insisted I learn to work on my own vehicle, too. She forced me to learn to change starters and alternators. I learned to change my own oil with tears in my eyes, but I learned nonetheless. She instructed me in tune-up’s and tire changes so I’m comfortable with a spark plug gapper and a lug wrench. As a woman I’ve found knowing how to do these things, even if I choose not to, empowering. I recently changed my own side mirror and the lens cover on my brake light, and I give her credit: I was able to do those things because of her and youtube. A sexist mechanic has a harder time hoodwinking me too, since I know a thing or two!

We used to visit my grandparents in Connecticut regularly, every year if she could manage it, and we always spent some time in the city (New York). On one of those trips our hotel was far from Manhattan. I can’ remember exactly where it was, I think it may have been Brooklyn? Anyway, the subway station was several blocks from the hotel, and we found ourselves walking through this not-so-great part of the city in the middle of the night after enjoying an evening at the Blue Note. There were some shady looking characters lurking about, circling us in a threatening manner. My mom, being the bad-ass she was, picked a bottle up from the street, and broke the bottom off against a concrete pilon. Flailing the the broken bottle in the air wildly, she snarled something to the effect of “Bring it on, I dare you!” I don’t remember exactly what happened after that, but I do remember staring at Mom in wide eyed amazement once we reached our hotel safely. When our relationship was at its rockiest, she jumped the fence into the North Florida fair with me. I can’t remember how it came about, or what I said to convince her to do it, but I will never forget her climbing into the back of an open semi and launching herself over that fence into the fair grounds. I’ve come to the conclusion that it was her way of trying to forge the gap between us when she had no clue what else to do. She did what I wanted her to do, against her better judgement (I hope), because she was trying understand me and find some bond with her crazy teen…even though she could have gotten hurt or arrested. I’m sorry, but no matter how cool I am I will never EVER do such a thing with my kids! Although she could be difficult and harsh at times, I certainly have many scars from her mistakes, my Mother also taught me to never give up and that I am capable of doing anything I set my mind to. Thanks to her I learned to think outside the box, to see a creative path to a solution for most things, just like she did and to “fake it till you make it.”

Thanks for that, Mom.