Each Thursday night a group of writers gather on Twitter to wait for the week’s Five Minute Friday writing prompt. The writing challenge is just that- a challenge. Create word art in five minutes- share your story, share your soul. Hit publish without looking back at your work for edits.
This week’s prompt is: Laundry
My husband is the laundry king in our house. On Sunday afternoon he starts tackling the piles. Down two flights of stairs schelpping a heavy basket, into the scary basement he goes. Always encouraging our four year old to come along side him and work together with him even though doing so means it takes him four times as long. He sets a timer on his phone and then back down he goes. Schellping our four year old with him to assist in the turn over.
He folds in front of football, basketball, hockey, or whatever other sport is on. The four year old matches the socks. Together they put things away, sometimes things are never in the right drawers. Last week I found half of the baby’s pants mixed in with the preschooler’s shorts and the preschooler’s pajamas were mixed in with his tee shirts.
I silently correct things and put them where I want them to go. Because I realize I’ve never come out and said I want xzy to go in this specific drawer. And because people can’t read my mind.
My husband wasn’t always king of the laundry. When we were kids (aka 10 years ago) we’d let it pile up until we had NOTHING to wear and then spend an entire Saturday hanging out together at the laundry mat dreaming about becoming real grown ups and owning our own washer and dryer. We didn’t have two cents to rub together, but somehow we managed to save enough to buy fancy HE front loaders.
It wasn’t until my body was so swollen and heavy with our first born that Mike became the king of the laundry. I could no longer carry it up and down two flights of stairs.
I put my big girl panties on and asked for help instead of suffering physically for the sake of clean socks.
*Disclaimer here- This took longer than five minutes to write because I was interrupted three times. Once to wipe a hiney, once to change a diaper, and once to feed a hungry preschooler. Carry on mamas.
Want to play along? Write on your blog for five minutes and link up with Lisa Jo Baker.
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