mummy and a mind

The musings of a mummy trying to make the most of her mind

The neverending washing mountain

on 23/10/2012

I hate the neverending washing mountain! Or rather, I hate that it is neverending.

Of all the chores that I have to do, the one that seems to take up the most time, but also to be neverending and never get done, is washing. I include in washing, sorting, washing, drying and the dreaded ironing (well I say ironing but at the moment it doesn’t really get done but more on that later).

There are four of us in my house. Two adults, a toddler and a baby. How on earth can such a small amount of people make such a huge amount of washing? And when did I get enough red stuff to fill a whole wash by itself, daily?!

Every morning when I get up one of the first things I do is sort the washing. I gather up all the separate piles from the house (husband’s pile, my pile, nursery pile, baby pile, sheets, towels, kitchen pile (teatowels, oven gloves). Then I sort the big pile into little piles, the notorious red pile (which actually is very pink, despite the fact that I swore when I had a daughter I would not dress her in pink all the time!), a white pile, a dark pile, which when it gets too big evolves into a black pile, blue and green pile, and a denim pile. All the while my lovely daughter is trying to help but for every one item I put into a pile, she moves two into the wrong pile, and my delightful son just takes great pleasure in snatching piece after piece from the piles and throwing them randomly around the room.

If I ever manage to get a complete pile I quickly try to grab it. If I am not quick enough daughter decides that it will be fun to throw herself on the pile, and stay there! So when I manage to manover the clothes out of her way and into my harms I make an dash for the kitchen. Except on the way I drop something, usually a sock or a bib (we have these in every pile). When I bend over to pick up said item, one or both children, think it is a game and either snatches up the item or pulls at the pile, causing an avalanche of washing to land on their heads, causing tears. After a bit of consoling I try again, grab all the stuff and maybe this time get to the kitchen, stuff all the washing in the machine (and sometimes daughter even picks up strays and puts them in). I put the powder in the drawer, while attempting to hold back my baby boy who is desperately fighting to get at the cupboard of chemicals. Nearly there, just the conditioner, which always manages to leak on the floor, shut the drawer and press on. Quickly press the buttons, beeep, ERR 1, you what? On and off and start again. This time it works. Right everyone out the kitchen, into the lounge, on the way trip over something, oh no that should have been in the wash (this typically happens with a red wash when it is something that can’t go into another wash).

So assuming the washing gets done now we have to dry it.

Now I live in England, in Greater Manchester, one of the rainiest parts of England. (A story I was told at uni was that the people that bought the Granada television franchise did so because the area it covers was one of the rainiest, so they thought that the people would spend more time indoors and watch more television). If I am lucky to get the washing hung on the line, it rains, or it is windy and it all blows of the line, of course landing in a muddy patch. My favourite one is the ‘Shall I get the washing in when I see clouds?’ question. It always seems to be if I think, ‘No, they’ll blow over’ I turn around and it is chucking it down. Or if I sprint outside get all the washing in, the sun comes out again. At the moment, although it is only October, it’s cold. Sunday was beautifully sunny so I put the washing out first thing in the morning. By the time the sun set and I had got it in… it was still wet! Now I would put it all on the radiators but it just makes the house feel so moist I hate it. And, if I do put it on the radiators it is a prime target for baby boy and his favourite thing to do, clear the decks, washing everywhere!

I was going to mention ironing, but really, with a toddler and a baby, no chance. Ironing is a late night affair, done as required.

So from first thing in the morning, till last thing at night, I am surrounded by washing. And when I wake up tomorrow, I have to start all over again.

Being a mummy and a mind, why can’t I think of a better solution?

The neverending washing mountain

The neverending washing mountain!


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