Washing as extreme sports: Greetings from Mount Washmore!
Always out with the feeling: blogger San, 34
© privateThis text is an excerpt from Blog Family Friendly by Blogger San, a photographer with three children. Unfortunately, she has since given up blogging. Here you still read her great text about washing:
The bad B-word
One may not think it possible, but I also did not have children.
At that time, childless, I lived in a shared flat: old building, parquet, fourth floor, no elevator, no washing machine.
If I had anything to wash at that time (on average once a week), I drove to a laundrette. This laundrette had a pint-sized pizza shop in the neighborhood. I thought that was great. Because while I was doing my laundry, I read and ate a small artichoke extract cheese.
The washed laundry I threw in the dryer completely (always everything.) Looking back: very bad.) And when she was finished, I folded her and drove home. Once there were two parts that needed to be ironed, I quickly ironed them.
After a total of three hours at most, my clothes are back in the closet and the shrink-matted wool sweater in the trash, that's good. For a week.
A family later that changed.
An example:
Imagine any morning during a regular school week. The night before, the child / children were proud of their own foresight regarding the morning, urgently needed time saving clothes. Weather Adapted. Clean. Matching. Wrinkle-free. Yeah.
It's half past eight. The second child who is about to leave the house is still in the bathroom.
Then call it. The child.
And complains that he has been selected a white T-shirt, although it is today and just under any circumstances whites could wear, as it helps on this day in the school garden, with the requirement to have on the body, suitable for budding, what really be everything allowed, apart from white.
Aha.
I suppose elsewhere you go now to the wardrobe in the nursery and grab a T-shirt in non-white.
Elsewhere.
In THIS house breaks at 7.30 clock to the question of another T-shirt, the naked panic.
The clothes that would be immediately available in the closet this morning are flutter dresses (too cold), turtlenecks (too warm), t-shirts in non-white, but in 128 (too small) and bathing suits (so please).
Whether we buy our children no clothes? In seasonally sufficient quantities? And many colors? And, worse, not metric-adjusted?
BUT! I shout and pound my foot. This is what we do! Every season we buy clothes in huge quantities and colorful and in the right size! There are these clothes! Here! It just is not in the closet! She lies ... she does ... SHE MAKES THE FOUNTAIN OF MOUNT WASHMORE !!
And he is incredibly huge! But that's not all, he also has a brother! The much more incredible and much bigger, the much less to be conquered Bügelberg! I won!
At 7:35 on a normal morning of a regular school day just wanting to wear a T-shirt other than the one planned would need in this house either washing and drying first, or at least the ironing of the desired, but that does not matter because both are not up for debate at this time!
How can this happen? Why do not I come to terms with our own house mountains?
Uh. Like right now? Apart from the fact that we are 5 people? And that, strictly speaking, it's not mountains, but rather mountain ranges that run all over the house? And that ironing is really for me. the very last. is?
Well, the washing itself is not really dramatic. Dramatic yes, after all, I do not want to lose my jammer status, but not at all HAM dramatically. Since you can throw on the way to the office or in bed or anywhere ever a momentum in the machine. The wet lump of pink pants will find the way into the dryer or on the drying rack in a rather unspectacular way.
But then! The now following misery is on the one hand ushered in by the high, relentless, I-am-ready-you-can-me-off-open-and-empty-now-now-now-now-now-beeps of the tumble dryer. A beep, moreover, in a frequency that my husband allegedly can not hear. 20 years playing the drums would have certain areas of his acoustic perception ... Yes. CLEAR!
On the other hand, the pieces that I have distributed on drying racks, eventually dry and bother me not only in terms of space, but also because of the color unbalanced overall concept.
Piles of freshly laundered, dry laundry now pile up in or next to baskets on the couch or in the bedroom and want to be further processed.Yes, are they spinning? As if not someone had "Mama!" I have not realized that there is no more food left in the house at all (that I like) / I do not have a workday in the office / I do not mind the chaos in the house "Just pass up!" / I have not already collected three new clothes mountains from the children's rooms / I'm not visiting / I do not do much better and just do not feel like doing it!
But is folded the same? And ironed too, if you do not always accumulate so much ...
FLAP! I do not like the "bad B-word" so much, I do not just have mountain ranges, I even have my own summer and a winter hanger pile! What is that? Well, you wash, for example In January, something that is not needed again so quickly, then it no longer fits the temperatures, but remains lying, lying, lying and lying there until it is cold again and then needs to be ironed out, but technically not longer fits. The same in July. I'm sure. Pfh.
Because of the sometime total hopelessness with regard to a successful attempt to ram my flag to the top of the laundry mountain, I made myself a birthday present last year: A charming lady, who was recommended to me by my friend, has three more here on a Monday afternoon overflowing baskets picked up with ironing. On Tuesday afternoon, she brought everything back to me, perfectly wrinkled and folded or hanging on hangers.
I have left 47 (in words: seven-and-fourteen) minutes of laundry in five different wardrobes. And then I could not close the doors anymore. Boh. Ham we many clothes, so, considered in one (!) Place.
Yeah, my husband says. Then do not wash so much.
WTF?
Yeah, I hear someone whispering back there, maybe he's right? Maybe everything that was once worn does not have to go straight into the laundry?
Hello? Kindergarp shorts, for example, I release only by shaking the dirt. And if a part, except underwear (double hello: WE do NOT deliver these only 19 times in a year), if a part is neither dirty nor smokeless, it will be put on a second time. I'm not stupid.
Yeah, but you can also take on additional work yourself. Who wants white everywhere - a white couch, 1000 white pillows and sheets and also in the garden (!) White damask tablecloths (!!) and carpets (!!?)?
I want that. Because that's my home, too. And my living-aesthetic feeling requires a lot of whiteness. But I do not wash these things every day. Every day I wash "the other one".
Yes, good. But it can not be that immense, is it?
Hm. Let's see. A normal Wäschepensum can be excellent on the basis of the last weekend log. Been noted.
Saturday morning I was at the sport. Why everything that I was carrying, urgently needed to be washed, I do not know.
In the afternoon we drove with the children to the DirtBike train. Dirt bike track. Dirt Bike. Dirt.
The fact that I refreshed myself and moved back again was not due to the fact that I ran for the first half hour on the Dirt (!) Bike track next to the youngest, until it was no longer possible "Why is not a children's track here? drive a children's train! " but rather bravely and alone with a monkey tooth over smaller hills, but also because I was allowed to take pictures at a party and did not want to adapt to the motto, but to the occasion. And besides, I just came from the dirt ... ihrwisstschon. Between bikes and party we grilled. On Sundays we were invited to a dreamlike party, in the garden, in known summer temperatures, with a lot of delicious food and bathing fun and lawn with the remains of the bathing fun and on the way home another ice cream from our favorite cafe. In the evening my husband went to the sport. Like Friday too. Why the things he was wearing ...
In other words, sweaty, dusty, smeared and stained clothing will definitely be washed by me. Any questions?
Yeah, but you do not do something like last weekend every day?
MARKET TIMES, to whom is this held? When we are not biking or barbecuing or in the summer garden, the children go to the farm for a fantastic birthday. They paint with brush colors. The cat spits. No matter, because ANYTHING IS ALWAYS! No sooner have you manfully overcome and decimated the mountain a kleeeeines a bit, infected a child with a MaDa virus. Or should simply consider optimizing the distance between the plate and the mouth when eating. Or should, just said worked flawlessly, then DO NOT wipe the mouth on the shoulder, but better on the napkin ready. Or, with a full cocoa mug, you stumble over a carpet fold in the direction of color-neutral sofa walnut.
Or - San processed (even on Saturday of the last weekend) elderflowers, accidentally overflows everything and can only wipe the hot, sticky syrup with tons of soaking dishcloths from the hotter stove plate before it burns and burns completely, pours into the hurry in addition to the brimming Prosecco glass on the pants that stood there and she needs to work motivation at half past one in the morning, while she throws the hood in horror and earnestly hopes that the smoke that is inevitably given when caramelizing elderflower syrup , not even the fire alarm activated. Jaha! So go here!
Anyway, the cycle of washing in this house is endless, and I am firmly convinced that the hamster of Sisyphus must have felt the way I feel about it.
Oh, by the way: on that normal morning of a regular school day, I ran into another nursery. The Buddelkind could leave the house in a gray AC / DC shirt. That of his brother ... Oh. The dryer beeps.
Text by Sandra Schober on familienfreundlich.blogspot.de
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