If you know me at all, you've likely heard my description of our laundry room. At any given moment it looks like Tommy Bahama and Ralph Lauren are having an affair with the Brooks Brothers! The men in this house don't understand the meaning of wash and wear. It much more closely resembles wash on delicate for 33 minutes and dry for 13 minutes before hanging for 4 hours then drying for 13 more minutes to wrinkle release around here. My guys have great taste in clothing and while they always look good, I'm beginning to think I need an advanced degree in cotton management just to wash their clothes! Couple that with the fact that if you've taken a trip to the mall recently, you know mens clothing isn't cheap. Words like sale and clearance don't translate across the mens aisles like they do for women.
A few weeks ago I added a small dry erase board near the dryer to remind me how many items need to be removed at the damp dry buzzer (lest they shrink, fade, wrinkle, get too hot--the list is endless)! And this is the note that met me mid week when I least expected it, smack dab in the middle of the ordinariness of motherhood.
The best job I've ever had is also the hardest, most challenging, often frustrating, highly rewarding, extremely thought provoking, utterly overwhelming, at times disappointing, extremely nerve racking, most heart pounding job I've ever had. There are days I want to scream. There are days I cry. There are days I laugh. Then this shows up and reminds me there are days I kn
ow to my core why I do what I do, and why I love it so much...
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