Wednesday, November 01, 2006
Laundry that Torments Me
So now I've officially moved into adulthood in all its monotony. As a work-my-butt-off-at-home-raising-my-son Mom, my daily struggles are far from the topics of dealing with office politics, and keeping my resume current. My big challenge lately has been laundry.
I've pretty much always been the laundry-doing half in our marriage, which for the most part is just fine. My husband is a teacher, so occassionally he'll have a pen mark on his pants, or a small coffee spill to deal with. I've got those stains down pretty well. (Pen marks come out after a good dousing of hairspray. Coffee just needs a cocktail of laundry detergent and dish soap -like Dawn NOT cascade.)
Now we've got a soon-to-be two year old. He's a pretty mellow kid overall, and is about as far from the "Pigpen" Peanuts character as you can get without having serious issues. But he's discovered all sorts of things lately, and his clothes have become a storyline for his latest adventures. I think I missed out on the stain removal class in home ec. My mom also forgot to pass down her stain removal expertise. I sit and look at a little white shirt with a Jackson Pollock design of avocado, water paint, Halloween candy shell, and a few mystery components, and I'm at a loss. I treat the whole thing with laundry detergent, scrubbed with a little scrubber brush. I wash it, and check it before I through it in the drier. Some stains are gone, but many remain, though faded from their prewashed glory. I rub two stain removers on the still wet stains, wash only whites and add a little bleach. The stains come out of this experience more faded, but holding fast. I give up for today, leave the wet shirt on the washer and move on with my day.
Little do I know that this stubborn shirt is now talking to my own clothes as they hang out together in the laundry room. Now the otherwise average stains on my favorite white shirt no longer come out. And because I know they usually do come out, I don't check the shirt before I through it into the drier, and the stains are set for life.
I guess I'll either inhabit the basement laundry room like a mad scientist, or my family will wear our stained clothing with our heads held high. The stains are clean, we are clean, and gosh darn it, people like us!
I've pretty much always been the laundry-doing half in our marriage, which for the most part is just fine. My husband is a teacher, so occassionally he'll have a pen mark on his pants, or a small coffee spill to deal with. I've got those stains down pretty well. (Pen marks come out after a good dousing of hairspray. Coffee just needs a cocktail of laundry detergent and dish soap -like Dawn NOT cascade.)
Now we've got a soon-to-be two year old. He's a pretty mellow kid overall, and is about as far from the "Pigpen" Peanuts character as you can get without having serious issues. But he's discovered all sorts of things lately, and his clothes have become a storyline for his latest adventures. I think I missed out on the stain removal class in home ec. My mom also forgot to pass down her stain removal expertise. I sit and look at a little white shirt with a Jackson Pollock design of avocado, water paint, Halloween candy shell, and a few mystery components, and I'm at a loss. I treat the whole thing with laundry detergent, scrubbed with a little scrubber brush. I wash it, and check it before I through it in the drier. Some stains are gone, but many remain, though faded from their prewashed glory. I rub two stain removers on the still wet stains, wash only whites and add a little bleach. The stains come out of this experience more faded, but holding fast. I give up for today, leave the wet shirt on the washer and move on with my day.
Little do I know that this stubborn shirt is now talking to my own clothes as they hang out together in the laundry room. Now the otherwise average stains on my favorite white shirt no longer come out. And because I know they usually do come out, I don't check the shirt before I through it into the drier, and the stains are set for life.
I guess I'll either inhabit the basement laundry room like a mad scientist, or my family will wear our stained clothing with our heads held high. The stains are clean, we are clean, and gosh darn it, people like us!
Labels: clean, laundry, monotony, Pigpen, stain remover, stains
¶ 2:29 PM
