Laundry Chair is no more.
It’s still there, but it hasn’t really been used for clean clothes in weeks, possibly months.
Did I finally develop better systems? Better time management? A greater sense of pride in my home? More self-discipline?
One day, Adelaide started grabbing all the clean laundry out and chewing it all up. Then she did that all day, everyday, until I had the chair all emptied of laundry. I would give it a few days and try again. Tossing a few loads onto the familiar cushion. Immediately, Adelaide would go over to destroy our fresh laundry.
That’s her chair. She circles it dozens of times a day. She often tries to stand at that chair. And if there’s anything in it, she eats that thing. Her arms are now long enough to reach the very back. And she will reach, rake, and go straight to her mouth with whatever was occupying the space.
I’ve read books and articles and blogs about laundry and housewifery and time. Turns out all I needed was to lose a cute pair of Elizabeth Mae’s leggings to her neurodisabled sister’s jaws. Just like that, I started folding each load as it came out of the dryer. And I realized that I could fold and put away a load of laundry in minutes.
Of course, we’re in a new season. Graham and Bess do chores. Graham helps fold and put away laundry. Bess helps Godzilla all the piles and reminds me why chores are difficult with a 2-almost-3-year-old. But we all pretend she’s helping. It’s still better than losing the clothes to Adelaide’s mouth. Where they must be retrieved and rewashed.
“Mama, you never put laundwy in Laundwy Chair anymore. What we gonna call it now?”
“Wicker Chair? That’s what Daddy and I called it before you named it Laundry Chair.”
Dave bought it for my birthday before we were married. Stored it at his parents’ house before we were man & wife, sharing a home. A wicker chair that we thought would be for snuggling and reading and whispering little love nothings. And it did. And it also held laundry for a season. A season when we were navigating a new normal. A season where 14 loads of clean laundry would pile up before a marathon folding session.
Honestly, I could easily still be in that season. But a 4-year-old did what no one else could do. She required me to rethink my lack of systems. She caused me to problem-solve. She put me on a crusade to Save Our Socks. The days of piling clean laundry were over.
Laundry Chair went back to being just plain, old Wicker Chair. But it’s really Adelaide’s Chair. A name we will never use, since it would cause an immediate territory war amongst the Ballew kids. I keep that chair empty now for my own sanity…but mostly because I enjoy watching Adelaide use it to grow stronger. And that makes all the folding worth it.
Goodbye, Laundry Chair
Laundry Chair is no more.