Laundry Liberation

After almost 11 years of marriage, I'm finally doing my husband's laundry. I started last night. Why do I want to take on more chores, when I can't keep up with the kids and house work as it is? For many reasons: First, it needs to be done, and I'm already doing a couple loads each day, so throwing in one more, or adding to what's already going in, isn't that big a deal. Second, it's one of the easiest chores in the house. We don't sort much, so you just throw it in the machine and let it go. Then put it in the next machine. Then fold or hang and put it away. Simple. Third, it can get me a little "me" time. I find the folding especially rewarding, almost meditative - I can sit and relax, fold things up, daydream a bit. Also, our laundry area is next to the kids' play area, so Ii can sort/fold/whatever while they're playing. Okay, the older one plays, the newborn sits in his swing and coos. But someday he'll play there too. And lastly, to take some stress of the hubby. I'm sure I complain a lot, but he really does a lot, and this is one thing I can do for him, and that I enjoy and am good at, to make his part of family life easier, and hopefully, better. He goes to work, takes time with the boys, does the cooking, cleans the baby bottles, takes out trash, and changes the bed linens (odd, but I'm really short and have trouble at this one). So Ii am liberating him from laundry, and I'm happy with that.

Contentment

I'm content, for the immediate moment. I suppose that's all one can hope for: contentment, happiness, whatever you feel like calling it. I actually prefer contentment to happiness - I think happiness can be lost easier, and it's a much bigger let down. That doesn't mean I'm not truly happy as well, I'm just not bouncing-off-the-ceiling happy, the almost manic type of happy. Not too fond of that; it tends to mean I need an adjustment to my meds.

Why am I content? The hubster is on his way home, the toddler is sleeping in his crib, the dogs are quiet, and I have a newborn sleeping on my chest. I am watching what I choose on the tube, have a huge glass of water next to me, lunch is on it's way, some laundry has already been completed, and unless my bladder or a child decides to change that for me, I'm not moving until the hubby gets home.

Erm, nix that. The baby just peed - I can feel the heat of it even through the thick cloth nappie. Now to decide if I should let the sleeping baby lie, or risk waking him with a diaper change.

Stayed tuned for the next exciting installment... yeah, right.

The beginning of, well, the beginning.

So... Where to begin? I'm not much of a blog reader. Really, I couldn't care less what people across the globe, that I've never met and never will meet, think or say about their lives. And in theory I don't care what any of them - of you - would think or say about my ramblings. But I've been having trouble collecting my thoughts lately, or resting my mind because it's always too full and racing around, so I thought I'd try some journaling like I did back in the good 'ole days of my youth. And while I'm not a very good typist, I'm even more out of practice at actual pen-and-paper writing. Plus this thing has spell-check! (In case you can't tell, and I know it doesn't always translate well in print, that was me being facetious. Get used to it, it happens a lot in here.)

Since I'm doing this for myself, and am telling myself I don't give a crap what anyone else thinks or says, I'm going to be totally open and honest with my thoughts, feelings, or whatever strikes my fancy at the time I type. This could be anything from a list of what I did that day, to philosophy, music, sex, or even the consistency of my boys' poop. If you'd like to leave a comment - good for you. Feel free. I may leave it, or (I have yet to look through all the capabilities and commands here, but I spy a link for "Comment Moderation") I might delete it. Especially of it's mean. Especially if it's especially mean. Especially if it's especially mean and I don't like what you have to say. I mean it.

Okay. Right. So that's the end of the beginning. I think I'll go begin something else.