Dirty Laundry

Daily arguing. Sure, stress, deadlines, piles of laundry, blah-blah-blah...these pose real opposition, but I cannot shirk responsibility for failing to get along with those whom I care for most. I refuse to villainize obstacles. Resistance and challenge is needed for growth. I want to welcome these challenges with grit and fortitude. How do I do that?

Step 1: Flip the script

Mundane-ness...Mundanuity? The state of being mundane is my home state. We are a house of 5. Hungry mouths x5, scheduled activities x5, laundry x5. Multiply all that by seven days a week. Racing through the same sets of endless routines, week after week after week, after….I’ll stop. Point is, sometimes I lose sight of the bigger picture. I get overwhelmed by that mountain of stinky sports bras and vinegar-jock-funk because there’s also sweaters climbing the stairs toward over-stuffed drawers. My husband’s nice still-to-be-washed-on-a-delicate-cycle shirts hung over my side of the rack because his is already covered.

Then comes the audacity to criticize my laundry-handling:

Exhibit A: “You can’t wash jeans with other clothes – they won’t dry and you’re just wasting money and time.” “At least I’m doing it, don’t give me shit about how I’m doing chores unless you want to do them better...”

You get the picture, not pretty. My sweet husband was not wrong, about the jeans thing, but I had chosen to include them anyway to just get them done already. I was going to run the dryer a second time, screw money and the environment, I guess. I’d imagined his voice chastising me as I added them, making it all the more annoying to hear the words in-vivo. Shut up about that!

Why won’t they just listen the first time?

Stop nagging me!

Nobody cares that I’m exhausted!

These thoughts become inundating. They are crappy thoughts and I don’t want to feel like crap. I’m not in control of these other four beings; I need to maintain control of me.

Again, how? Find a Positive-Opposite.

Why won’t they just listen the first time? Help them

I won’t have to tell the girls twice to clean off the stairs if I help them do it the first time. Don’t get me wrong, they are going to do the work, but I can follow through when I give a command.

My husband – if I’m tired of repeating myself to him...why don’t I just stop? I don’t love tripping over his man-panties in the dark every morning but is it a real problem? No. Is he going to change if I keep putting them in the basket for him? No. Does it matter? I think, no. I know I helped him, I care about him. He helps me in so many ways (but also, Babe, if you ever read this, would still totally love to not have to pick them up for you).

Stop nagging me Act Sooner

Back to the jeans. Really, this is an easy one, there are 2 options: (1) I can be confident in my way, regardless of efficiency, and tolerate hearing his opinion (everyone is welcome to one). (2) I can apply feedback, eliminating the need for future feedback. Much easier to say write, then to do. I think perhaps next time I’ll separate the jeans.

Nobody cares that I’m exhausted! Show myself I care: Give myself time

My family gave me some loving “oh boy, see you after your journey” teasing upon announcing I was diving into a new writing project. Nobody said a thing about my slacks and dresses waiting on the couch to be hung. I have to remember to thank them for that.

Queen of mundane-ville. Except, not. I’ve worked my ass off for the routines that compose my normal, I’m proud of them, and I freaking love my family.

I don't want to sound like the couple from exhibit A. I’m not in control of these other four beings; I need to maintain control of me.

I want good: to feel, to do, to think, good.

Expending my efforts on positive feels good.

When I help my children eat better: Stop eating junk food Find healthy things they like, then supply them

When I clean up after my husband serving the kids cereal Wipe up the milk there’s roaches! Thank you for feeding the girls, go team!

Choosing the positive opposite feels good.

I guess it’s really a one-step direction.

As for the laundry, it’s only one load behind but I am fairly certain it was I whom just broketh the machine, perhaps I never mention that in my out-loud voice.