Dirty Laundry

I have proven to myself once again that I am a strong woman. I am capable of rising above my strong sense of smell and my acute gag reflex. My three man-children are home this weekend and all three of them took me up on my offer to do their laundry. My eldest son paid to fly in a extra large bagful for the occasion. The smells, a pungent mix of sweat, dirty shoes and mildew and God know what else, layered together in piles of clothes and towels that probably hadn’t see the light of a clothes washer in quite some time, were nothing short of overwhelming. The dubious, edgy t-shirts gotten along the way, I decided not to ponder about too much. I asked them to empty pockets beforehand so that I had no mysteries to unravel and stress about, long after they head back to work and college. Luckily, they complied.

It’s funny how your perspective changes on doing chores, like laundry, for your children, once they are out of the home. I actually, in some weird way, kind of enjoyed the experience (clothespin on my nose and all). And my sons’ warm appreciation for it was certainly at levels I wasn’t used to experiencing when they were all living at home. Old fashioned family days, with all six of us together, just doing our thing, swimming, eating and drinking, playing with the dogs, eating and drinking, playing games, playing pool, eating and drinking, teasing each other playfully, watching movies, eating and drinking, falling asleep on the couch, are just so far and few between now. Those types of days that felt like they would go on forever and ever, are now such a novelty and a gift. I was filled with so much love, and pride and gratitude for this family, that my husband and I created yesterday. Maybe that is the blessing of our children growing up and creating their own adult lives. We all just seem all the more acutely aware of the mutual appreciation that we have for each other now, and for the blessing of our many happy family times and memories. The grumbling about the chores and the expense and the worries and the exhaustion, that abound when raising a large family, gives way to allow gratitude and gratefulness and mostly a quiet thankful awe of it all, to rise to the top and to see everything, even smelly loads of laundry, in a beautiful, new light.

All of the dirty laundry is clean and refreshed now. The adventures my sons are experiencing in their new lives, sometimes far away from us, will be encapsulated in the new rounds of foul-smelling laundry that they will inevitably bring home next visit. And I will welcome it all, with open arms, gladly and giddily.