Tiny socks

Laundry.

the bane of my existence

Before having a baby, Phil and I both had our "professional" clothes that we'd each take care of separately. If one of us was doing a load, we'd put in the others' underwear or casual/easy-care clothes to top off our load. It was a simple way to say "I love you, dear". By this measure, Phil loved me more. A whole lot more!  There were weeks upon weeks that I'd be wearing dirty clothes if it were not for all my husband's love. Because...

I. hate. doing laundry.

Right now, even as I type this I can hear the dryer humming along in the basement. That annoying alarm will go off any minute now and wake Ransom from his well-fought-for sleep! The machine itself mocks me. It advertises right there on the top where all the controls are "alarm activated system!" I'm pretty sure it has an exclamation point. I'm too lazy to go down there to check, but there it goes, BEEEEEEPPP! ugh. Sorry Whirlpool...this is not a feature to promote. Its not a selling point in my book.

Anyhow, back to me hating laundry.

When we started getting baby gifts from friends and family, lots of people wanted to give Ransom clothes. Why?, I guess because clothes are cute or something. To me, its the baby inside the clothes that is so cute and the clothes are just... more laundry!  I remember saying to Phil so many times, "Oh. my. gosh. not only do I have to try and find my socks in the black hole that is our dryer, but now I'm going to have to find minuscule baby socks too!" I seriously stressed out about all the tiny socks that were soon going to permeate my life!

Now, after collecting a good number of tiny clothes that go along with mine and Phil's loads of laundry -- all of which I do now because apparently I'm just so full of love (its actually because Phil is in his intern year of residency!) -- I can't help but chuckle to myself when a tiny sock falls out of a pair of Phil's pants. A tiny sock that is not suppose to be in his load of clothes. Funny how that happens. Tiny socks creeping up all over the place.

I think about how these tiny socks have changed my life. about how these tiny socks hold those precious tiny feet that I kiss every time I change his diaper. about how these tiny socks will one day no longer be tiny...how they will someday (not that far away) be big and smelly socks just like his dad's.

Yes, I hate laundry.

But finding these tiny socks amidst the heaps of sorted laundry...makes doing this mundane and loathsome task not so... either of those things.

Bring on the tiny socks, I say.