Good Kids

On the day of the shower, when my world was all going to shit, while I was out and about, the kids decided to be helpful.

Mom and Bean shrugged it off.

So sweet that they want to help and surprise Mommy.

I know my kids better.

They wanted something.

But that's not the point.

The point is that they:

Cleaned the living room.

Vacuumed the dining room.

Cleaned to kitchen.

Did laundry.

However

They washed a huge load of their laundry with half a bottle of bleach.

Fortunately Bean jumped in and fixed it as much as he could, but I have no idea how he did. I think the conversations went like this:

Oliver: Bean, is the bleach supposed to smell that strong?

Bean: Umm... Why?

Oliver: Well we did laundry and the bleach smell is really strong.

At which point, Bean leapt out of wherever he was sitting for damage control.

And I do have to say that I admire my husband's self-control, because no yelling whatsoever happened here. No children were injured and no anger was vented.

The death toll was: 4 of Oliver's school shirts, 1 of Tallulah's play skirts.



And there will be housecleaning for the rest of the week if they want new Webkins.

My Greatest Enemy

Laundry is my enemy. I hate it. The worst part about it is that I could do all of the laundry today and there would be another massive pile to be done on Tuesday. You're never finished.
And maybe I could stand it if all I had to do was sort it and then wash it, but people think you're a slob if you don't put the laundry away!!



And then there's that.
I mean, of all the things to wash towels are probably the easiest, at least they are to fold, but this is ridiculous - that's two weeks.
Like four - maybe six, of those are me and Bean's. The rest are Oliver and Tallulah's. It's like they need a separate towel for each digit. It's insane.


I can't wait until they're tall enough to reach the washer. I'm never touching their laundry after that.