On Laundry

I'm not normally very obsessive about my clothes. I have my 'uniform' of jeans and black tees plus a few other random pieces, and as long as they smell decent and don't have any spills, messes or other disasters on them I tend to follow a 2-day rule about wearing them.

Lately, however, the 'other disasters,' read newborn bodily fluids, seem to happen so frequently as to necessitate multiple wardrobe changes in a day. And I just don't have enough clothes to be doing that without doing laundry all the time. But The Little Boy, as sweet and mellow as he seems to be, is prone to fits of puking, peeing and pooping for hours on end, damaging his mood and soaking me in yuck, so doing laundry all the time is just what I end up doing.

And that's just my stuff. There's also The Boy's stuff, covered in dirt, sand and food; Hubs' stuff, covered in the same stuff as my clothes but in smalller quantities; and the mountains of The Little Boy's burp cloths, swaddling blankets, sheets and clothes that end up soaked and need washing everyday. Then there's stuff from the rest of the house - linens, both kitchen and bath, and slip covers etc. It's just a lot of stuff. A whole lot of stuff.

Don't even get me started on what it'll be like when we start using The Boy's old cloth diapers on The Little Boy. I would be more terrified of that change if we weren't still using cloth diapers on The Boy, who stubbornly refuses to fully potty train(but that's another post), but the sheer number of times a day The Little Boy requires a change in a twenty four hour period and thinking of another load of laundry a day makes my left eye go twitchy. I'm just not Type A enough to enjoy, or even tolerate well, needing to do several loads of laundry a day.

The day I began writing this I had somehow escaped being showered in vomit and pee and having mustardy newborn poop dribbled on me in a diaper blowout. The following day, yesterday, I had chunks of cottage cheesy stuff spewn all over myself before I even made it out of my jammies.