Growth as Measured in Fractions

Before the girls were born, I remember washing all their teeny-tiny clothes.  I had so many items, but they made for such a small load in the washing machine.

It was a fun exercise to work through how I wanted to organize everything.  I enjoyed setting up their closet and deciding how I wanted to fold their onesies and pants, their burp cloths and blankets.

(You may know I’m a bit of a control freak when it comes to folding laundry.  If I’m going to wash and fold, then it must look pretty when I put it away.  I want to be able to appreciate my work!)

The girls had a dresser in their room, but they had so many wonderful shelves in their closet.  I decided to buy plastic bins to use as “drawers” on their shelves.  This system has worked incredibly well.  It allows easy access to everything, and when I need to switch out their clothes for the season, I simply put the bin of long-sleeve pajamas on a higher shelf and bring down the bin of short-sleeve ones.

I know this system won’t last me forever, though…at least not with smaller size bins that I have.

When the girls were infants, I folded their knit pants in half side-to-side, and then in half again, top-to-bottom.  I’m not absolutely certain, but I believe I got three stacks of pants in one bin.

It wasn’t too long before the size of their pants increased, and I went down to two stacks per bin, still folded in half.

A couple of years ago, I had to start folding their pants into thirds in order for them to fit in the bins.

And this year?  My B is still wearing mostly size 4 pants, so I haven’t had to make any adjustments.  My A, though, is wearing size 5…and some of those will flash an occasional ankle.  The last pants I bought for her were actually size 5/6.  ACK!

And yes, those LONG britches are too long for thirds.  I’m now folding some of A’s pants into fourths.

As if it weren’t enough for me to see their growing shoe sizes…their increasing height, coming close to my chest…their blossoming vocabulary and number prowess…The Universe just won’t let me forget that my BABIES are growing up, as further evidenced by my laundry piles.

The next thing I know, I'll be asking my girls to reach something for Mommy on a higher shelf...at least I think they'll surpass me in height, which will have its advantages!

Letting Go My Hold in the Laundry Room

When the girls were infants, I was a nutcase about most everything…including laundry.  I treated each and every stain (and there were a lot of those!)…including stains on washcloths, burp cloths, and bibs.

Eventually, as we were nearing the point of needing a second mortgage to finance our OxiClean consumption, I began to let the burp cloths and washcloths slide.  And later I even began to let the bibs go.  [I have always maintained a laser focus on all outerwear, though!]

Once the laundry was done, I had a complex system for sorting, folding, and putting things away.  The craziest one was probably my washcloth classification.

On average I had six or eight different brands of washcloths.  I sorted each brand into piles.  And then I organized the piles by preference.  My very favorite washcloths were on the top of the pile, followed by my next favorite…the bottom of the pile was home to the washcloths I didn’t like very much, the ones that – if I did laundry frequently enough – I wouldn’t even have to use.  Score!

It’s only been within the past year that I abandoned my washcloth classification system.  It’s actually made a positive difference in the time it takes to fold the girls’ laundry!

Over the past few months, I’ve been having the girls “help” me in the house from time to time.  It’s still much easier to fold laundry after hours, when they’re in bed, but I do it during the day occasionally so they can have a hand in it.

I’m so proud of myself for turning over the washcloth stacking duty to the girls.  The pile of washcloths is now a far cry from its heyday three years ago, but it works.

The washcloths are stacked…not very neatly…and not even facing the same way…and certainly not grouped by brand.  Baby A did sort them by color one day last week, though, and I couldn’t help but beam.

The next frontier is the girls’ sock bin.  Baby A has just learned to “ball” socks together.  By three-year old standards, I think she does an excellent job…but there go my beautiful, uniform rows of socks.

Deep breaths.  I can do this.  One day, I might even turn over the silverware drawer.  Maybe.

Fabulous Friday!

We’ve had our share of rain this week, but we did enjoy a bit of time outside, including a really invigorating jaunt with the jogging stroller. I think it was December 30th, or there about, the last time we did that…way too long! I’m very thankful for that, and so many fabulous things this week!

1) Baby A has been pretending to fold laundry, and she is some kind of serious about it. She buzzes around like it’s her JOB to fold the little doll blankets in the den. And she really does an excellent job of it, matching the corners almost perfectly…that’s my girl!

2) The girls have been really into crafts lately, which just makes me smile. We’ve done lots of water colors, crayons, and stickers. I got out the girls’ scissors one day, and I was so surprised how well they did! Baby A, in particular, cut a piece of paper into about six strips, all by herself. I can foresee our crafting hitting new levels soon!

3) I let the girls help me in the kitchen on Thursday afternoon. I measured out everything to make Strawberry-Kiwi Shortcake, and they had a lot of fun dumping everything together and stirring. They were beyond excited to tell Daddy what they’d made. He was teasing them, calling it “Tall Cake”, though. Baby B didn’t find an ounce of humor in that. She was very defensive over her “Shortcake”.

4) After a particularly good nap on Tuesday, I decided to treat the girls at the yogurt shop. Daddy met us there after school, and we had a sweet time together. I then tempted fate and stopped by the grocery store to pick up a couple of things…sans stroller. I’m so thankful to report we had a successful trip!

5) Baby A woke up early a few days ago, and so she was already downstairs when I got B up. Baby B and I were alone in the bathroom, and I just couldn’t resist telling her how cute she was…sitting on the potty with her bed-head and super-soft fleece pajamas. “And I’m sweet!” she added. “Like a dessert!”

6) Baby A was trying to tell me something one day, and I just couldn’t understand what word she was getting at. She finally said, “Seep!!! A little lamb!” It’s happened a couple of times where she’s offered an explanation for something, which just amazes me.

7) A very sweet friend sent the girls a couple of new CDs for their birthday. They are in.love. with one, and they request it most mornings after breakfast. It is amazing to me how quickly they’ve picked up on so many words already. And I just love how Baby A asks to dance with me to the first song. She wants me to pick her up (which is rare), and dance around. I very happily oblige.

Hope you had a fabulous week, as well!

Leave No Sock Unturned!

I’m a little freaky when it comes to socks…specifically the girls’ socks. In my almost three years of parenting two rambunctious girlies, I’m proud to say I’ve never lost a one!

One of the most useful pieces of random advice I got when I was pregnant was to wash all those itty bitty socks in a lingerie bag. It works like a charm, ensuring the dryer doesn’t “eat” any of those dainty little socks. And it makes sorting and folding laundry a little bit easier, too.

I’m no supermom, but I do seem to have a supernatural sense for finding errant socks. My girls are champion sock-puller-off’ers, especially in the car and in the stroller.

I learned early on that the side pocket in the door of the backseat is a prime spot for dropped socks. That’s always my first place to look when I see exposed piggy toes in the car. Failing that, I strain to look between the car seats. And failing that, I will climb into the backseat (using my amazing pretzel-like contortion skills), until I find the missing sock(s).

I’m usually pretty good at recognizing when the girls are messing with their socks when we're out and about. I’ll try redirecting their attention / reminding them that big girls wear socks and shoes / threatening to never let them out of the stroller (as you can’t walk without socks and shoes). If those measures don't take, they just have to go sock-less...and I have to ignore the looks of disapproval from some fellow shoppers.

There was only one time when I didn’t catch the action as it happened. We were at Target, and I noticed we were only sporting three socks as I neared the checkout. Forget that it was close to nap time. I retraced every step until I spotted that tiny little sock amid the kitchen wares.

My crowning glory happened a few days ago. A year ago (I think), I found a hole in one of the girls’ socks. I threw it away and saved the widowed one in their sock bin. Last week, as I was pulling on B’s socks, a hole ripped in the toe of one. My mind immediately raced to the lone sock I had been saving. Following the next load of laundry, I reunited one sock with the other…oh, the satisfaction!

[And I know you’re wondering…the girls’ socks are nothing extra special. Save a couple of cutesy striped pairs, they’re otherwise from Walmart and Target. And while the girls’ feet have grown over the past couple of years, we still seem to be wearing the same socks. And no, I’m not that cheap, but I can be that stubborn!]

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Through the Eyes of My Laundry Basket

I once read that you can tell a lot about a person from their laundry room. (Well, I didn’t actually read that, but I’m pretty sure it’s true.) The girls are only 15 months old, and I realize that my laundry basket has already experienced quite the ride.

Before the girls were born, I meticulously washed each sweet little gown, every precious dress, and all the tiny pairs of socks, separated into many, many loads, by color. I remember thinking those newborn onesies were so tiny, and then I washed them, and they looked even tinier! Doing the babies’ laundry then was so novel and so much fun…and I felt so organized, folding everything just so.

For the first few weeks after the girls came home from the hospital, even amid the sleepless days and nights, my vigilance remained. I treated the smallest stain, even on burp cloths and wash cloths.

Eventually, as my hands began to dry from the OxiClean, I abandoned the need to treat stains on burp cloths and wash clothes, but my focus remained keen on any and all outfits and bibs.

When the girls were four months old, we began feeding them solids. The laundry evolved from having spit-up stains to giant globs of sweet potatoes and green beans. For the sake of my dry hands, it was at this point that I “invested” in some cheap-o onesies and bibs that I wouldn’t mind getting stained, although I continued to relentlessly pursue stain removal on all outfits. I also discovered that, by washing out the bibs immediately after the food fight (or, uh, meal), they required less treatment.

It was in the baby food phase that my wardrobe had to change, too. After having amassed an impressive collection of yoga pants and tops, I took to wearing the grungiest t-shirts and sweats I could find. The girls’ ability to blow sweet potatoes and green beans could leave quite the “impression”.

Eventually, the girls became pretty proficient with the baby food, and – while I wish I could say I broke them of the habit – at least I learned to somewhat anticipate their food blowing and seek cover accordingly. I began to dress them in outfits again, and I dusted off my yoga pants from the bottom drawer.

As with so many things, when I begin to feel a rhythm in one area, something else changes, upsetting the apple cart, which of course results in saucy apple stains…

Over the past couple of months, the girls have graduated to “big people food”, and a little more recently, to feeding said “big people food” to themselves. And so they’re back to wearing the cheap-o onesies. I’m still in yoga pants, as meatballs don’t lend themselves to “blowing” in the same way that pureed sweet potatoes do.

But I fear that the next chapter in the Tales from the Laundry Room may involve me mending some holes in the knees of my yoga pants. I seem to spend a lot of time these days crawling around on the floor cleaning up thrown (or, uh, inadvertently dropped) spaghetti.

So what’s next? I guess only time – and my washing machine – will tell.