Laundry Revelations

There are all sorts of posts out there, lists, about "7 Ways to Know Your Man Loves You" and "How to be a Happy Wife", etc.  They flood Facebook and other media sites, and some of them are pretty good and do actually make you think and reflect.  Some of them are just a way to pass the time though, if not just completely humorous and sound like it's probably marital advice written by a teenager.

I did read one, though, that was a woman talking about the holes in her husband's boots.  She said he had worked so hard at providing for her and their kids that he wore holes in his boots.  I saw so many share this article and then everyone started posting actual pictures of their husband's boots to show the wear and tear on them.  This lead to a man posting a picture about his wife's shoes, who happened to be a nurse.  The concept of everything was sweet, and I know every spouse loves a good shout-out post from their other half.

Even though I read all of these and saw all the hype, I never did go home and actually look at my husband's boots or even mention it to him.  I may have sent him a "thank you for working so hard for us and our family" text, but that's not unusual for me to do anyway.  I just kind of mentally tucked it away, and smiled because I am thankful to have a hardworking man.

Then, one day as I was doing the 503rd load of laundry that week, I pulled out a pair of my husband's work jeans - something I do on a regular basis, all week long.  This one time, though, something struck.  It struck a nerve out of the blue and it physically stopped me right there in the laundry room.  Jason is 6'2 - he's a big guy - so his jeans are longer than half my body, and they're heavy.  All of a sudden, I felt like I was holding this pair of jeans like a treasure.  They felt so big in my hands...not big as in "he needs to lose weight" big, but big like "my husband is my protector" big.  I stared at them while all sorts of mental images came flooding in and out of my mind.  I saw my husband wearing these jeans working in the hot summer, the cold winter, rain, storms, any kind of scary weather when a wife would want all of her crew accounted for under her roof, and my husband is usually the one leaving to go work in it.  I pictured myself standing in front of him, 8 inches shorter than he, his arms wrapped around me in the most protective and strong, yet gentle manner.

All of a sudden, I was thankful.  Thankful I could start a 504th load of laundry, because it meant that I had a family there to dirty up so many clothes.  Thankful and laundry rarely go in the same sentence together, I know.  Most of the time I want to scream obscenities because HOW CAN JUST 5 PEOPLE MAKE SO MUCH DIRTY LAUNDRY IN ONE DAY.

Before Carson was born, I remember every detail about the very first load of his laundry I did.  I can remember some of the outfits, the way it smelled, the way that tiny little pile on our bed was made up of so many tiny little baby clothes.  Even now when I fold Carson's clothes, sometimes it makes me smile because they're so little compared to everyone else's.  It's a nice reminder that even though he is growing like crazy, he's still my little (big) baby.  Another revelation while washing clothes...

I did myself a favor and vowed to not fold one piece of clothing on Mother's Day.  I gave myself a nice pat on the back for even washing and drying clothes on Mother's Day and then let them sit.  Oh, how I wish you could have seen the MOUNTAINS of clothes the day after. "Thankful for laundry" wasn't even on a radar anywhere in or around my universe that day. 

So, no, I really don't go home and look at Jason's boots, and I have never really ever considered it a privilege to do laundry. I don't go home every day after work and jump with excitement and shout "Oh boy I get to wash more clothes today!"  On that particular day though, if only for a minute, I did.  If I can provide clean and wrinkle free jeans, shirts, baseball pants and school uniforms to the ones I love, then that's one way I can provide for them.  That's one way I can return the favor to the four people that do so much for me.  You know, when they're not arguing or being teenagers and toddlers and I'm not in a stress-induced state of mania and feeling no pressure to raise up 3 humans into society. 

Happy Laundering everyone!