I was so excited about the first load of laundry in this story, I hung it on the line. And then took a picture.
I’ve been working nights for more than ten years. During that time, we’ve added 6 kids to our family, for a total of seven. Laundry started out being primarily my responsibility, with unloading folded baskets of laundry delegated to whichever kids were capable of delivering piles where they needed to go without unfolding everything again.
As our family grew, I taught my big kids how to do their own laundry. That starts at age seven. That leaves me responsible for laundry for my husband, the four Littles, myself, and whatever family laundry is generated, including bedding and towels. It ends up being a minimum of two loads a day on most days.
On weekends that I worked, I understood that whatever shape I left our laundry room in when I left for work, it would be the same or worse when I came back to it later that weekend after sleeping off my shift. That was ok for a long time.
If you missed them, here are Parts I and II of the saga. To recap, we moved into our house in 2008, and were inspired from the get-go by our tiny but lovely kitchen from our first apartment as a married couple when we lived briefly on Long Island.
Little by little, I pulled the kitchen apart and put it back together again, with help from my family. And I painted. Again. And again. And again.
At this point, the kitchen wasn’t getting a lot better without tearing everything out and starting over, but I kept pushing. I trimmed my open shelving out with 1x pieces of wood I had lying around to prevent dishes from being pulled out accidentally, and to make the edges look beefier. I made matching curtains for all the windows using fabric from Joel Dewberry’s Heirloom line called Opal in Dandelion. It’s no longer in stock, but I mention it because the fabric matches the kitchen perfectly, and I like all the words: Heirloom, Opal, Dandelion. 
Our house got featured on Design Mom in March of 2014, which was fun, and helped me up my photography game. But I have trouble leaving well enough alone.
My two middle littles are often up to no good. At 5 and 6 and a half, they are always scheming and dreaming, and don’t always think about the consequences. Consequences of things like, pouring water in a trash can with apple cores and diapers in it and letting it sit for a week (talk about a home brew), or drawing tiny people with speech bubbles above their heads that say “Mom” on the trim work all over the house, or bringing a little container full of bugs into the house and losing track of it.
Then, sometimes they come up with fantastic ideas. Like the quiet time last week when they completely detailed their room, including dumping out drawers, refolding everything, and putting it away in neat little stacks. I was so impressed, I told their dad. He then congratulated them and offered to have them organize his drawers for a little cash.
The summer of 2015, I bought and read Marie Kondo’s The Life-Changing Magic of Tidying Up: The Japanese Art of Decluttering and Organizing, along with everyone else on the internet.
I have lost count of the number of garbage bags of stuff that went out the door as a result of reading it, but I would guess not less than twenty. I have never thought of myself as too sentimental about stuff. Yet I was storing craft supplies that I “might need” someday, excessive amounts of hand-me-downs for the kids, and a number of items in my own closet I was holding on to for the wrong reasons.
I hate feeling tied down. I thought about what would happen if we ever moved. I wouldn’t have time to deal with all our stuff. I’d end up throwing it in boxes and bringing it along even though it wasn’t worth keeping. Keeping the toys picked up had become onerous. My kids’ drawers were overflowing. My kids weren’t capable of keeping up with their own stuff themselves, and I couldn’t live with the disorder.
Resentment tends to build, and it lingers. We often to think of it as a feeling we have towards others.
A game changer for me this year was realizing that resentment isn’t a feeling toward anyone. It’s just something I’m experiencing.
