Parenting to Reduce Laundry

There have been Sundays at my parents’ house where the kiddies get dressed before we go swimming, then change into t-shirts and sweatpants to wear to and from swimming, then before I can stop them change into still other clothes after swimming, and then of course put on their pajamas at bedtime. These episodes result in quite a bit of excess laundry. (I know I don’t always have to wash things that they’ve only worn once, but they have just gotten into the habit of putting their clothes in the hamper. I’m afraid if I propose that not all clothes need to go straight to the hamper, no clothes will go straight to the hamper.)

This Sunday at my parents’ house, I made up some ground. The kiddies sat around in their pajamas for most of the morning and early afternoon, waiting for a signal to get dressed (pajamas, I might add, that they were wearing for the second night in a row – woohoo). When I realized around 1:00 that we were not going to get out of taking them to the swimming pool, they finally changed into their bathing suits, and then put on their terry cloth cover ups and a pair of sweatpants (with their winter coats on top of that getup, they looked very fashion forward).

When we were finished swimming, they changed into t-shirts and sweatpants. Since our only other planned activity was driving home in the dark, I decided I wouldn’t bother making them put on nicer clothes. We were planning to leave after dinner, so we would only be stopping for a bathroom break, and one thing I can say about the rest stop at the Chesapeake Bay Tunnel Bridge is: it is always deserted.

Because we are so lucky, it snowed and sleeted and rained on and off for most of our trip home. We didn’t arrive home until almost ten at which point even they did not have the energy for many bedtime shenanigans. Since they were all in comfortable clothes already, we just put them to bed without changing into pajamas.

By my calculations, that is a potential laundry savings of up to 12 outfits. As it turns out, the fewer clothes in the laundry yesterday, the better.

It's Not My Fault

They are just not that cute anymore...

Actually, they are. I don't know why I've got writer's block here, I just do. For some reason known only to the school system they've got half days for the rest of the week and Monday off, so maybe all that togetherness will help me come up with something to say.

Our Weekend with Mrs. Bear

Every weekend a lucky girl from Lauren's class gets to take home Mrs. Ted E. Bear for a visit (a lucky boy takes home Mr. Bear - I guess they are estranged). On Sunday evening the lucky parents of the lucky girl get to write an entry in Mrs. Bear's journal about all of the fun things Mrs. Bear did that weekend. This entry is supposed to be dictated by the kindergartener, but when you read the journal, it is obvious that the parents are doing most of the story telling. I don't mind cleaning up the grammar and organizing things a little bit, but I do try to get Lauren to remember the things that she did with Mrs. Bear and tell them to me.

On Lauren's first turn she was very excited, loved changing the bear into her pajamas and back into her clothes, and she carried her all around town. It helped that she spent most of the weekend in the car with nothing else to do but play with the bear. When we sat down to write the journal entry, she was very enthusiastic and carefully decorated the page when we were done.

Round 2 was not so successful. I think part of the problem was that when Lauren returned Mrs. Bear the first time, something was going on at school and she did not get the full-blown journal reading and heroine's reception that previous bear/care-takers had. The other, larger part of the problem is that Lauren doesn't want anyone, ever, under any circumstances, to tell her what to do. When her teacher says, "Lauren, you can take Mrs. Ted E. Bear home for the weekend and play with her," Lauren's gut reaction is, "You can't make me play with her."

Therefore, all evening Friday Mrs. Bear stayed in her little tote bag. Midway through Saturday morning, Lauren remembered her and changed her into her pajamas. She took her outside where she was "helping" take down the Christmas decorations (and then forgot and left her outside when she came in for lunch). At bedtime, I asked her if she wanted Mrs. Bear in her room and she responded with a rousing "NO!" On Sunday morning she came into my room to inform me that she had taught Mrs. Bear how to do a flip in the air. That was it for Mrs. Bear. I propped her up on the table so she could watch the kids doing a craft, but Lauren didn't so much as glance at her.

Sunday night we forgot all about the journal, so Monday morning before the bus came I sat down with Lauren to attempt to write the journal entry.

Mommy: So what did you do with Mrs. Bear this weekend?

Lauren: I don't know.

Mommy: Didn't she go outside and watch you take down the Christmas decorations?

Lauren: No, she was in the wagon and she couldn't see what we were doing.

Mommy (head beginning to pound): Well I'm going to put here that she watched you. What else did you do?

Lauren: Nothing.

Mommy (teeth beginning to clench): What about when you taught her to do a flip in the air?

Lauren: Okay.

Mommy: Well, what did you do?

Lauren: I just flipped her.

Mommy: And she watched you do your spin art on Sunday?

Lauren: I don't think she was really watching.

Mommy: I'm putting down that she watched you.

Lauren: Can I have some more Smart Start?

So I filled half a page of the journal (unlike the 2 full pages everyone else had) and then told Lauren I was going to tape on of the spin art pictures to the rest of the page for decoration, because we didn't have time to debate how and when she would decorate the page in the 4 minutes before the bus came. Hoping to avoid a repeat episode of "My Boring Disinterested Weekend with Mrs. Ted E. Bear" I (calmly and matter-of-factly) suggested "Why don't you tell your teacher that you want to skip your next turn with Mrs. Bear since you don't seem to like playing with her or telling stories about her?"

I think that is what I suggested. Apparently what Lauren heard was, "Why don't we chop off Mrs. Bear's head, pull all of the stuffing out, and then kick her to the curb and run her over with the car?" She immediately began to wail (in the I'm-not-really- seriously-that-upset- but-if-I-keep-this-up-long-enough-I -probably -could -work-myself-into- a-tizzy voice that is her specialty) "NOOO!!! I will play with her next time, Mommy!! I will!! I promise!! Don't tell my teacher that!!"

Hah, a likely story. I'll keep you posted.

Christmas Card Schedule

Christmas Card Photo Shoot: December 18

Christmas picture dropped off at Walmart for reproduction: December 19

Christmas cards, address and return address labels finished: December 20

Lame Christmas letter copied: December 24

Christmas card envelopes labeled and stuffed: January 5

Christmas cards mailed: January 8 (maybe, it’s raining outside)

Total days in production: 21 (or maybe 21 and counting…)

Eagle Eye

Yesterday morning, before he had even changed out of his pajamas, Marty came into the kitchen, looked up, and said, "Can I have one of those?"

The average person looking at this picture might first think that he was asking for one of those Christmas candies, inexplicably being stored in a huge plastic tupperware container within reach of all short people in the house. That was not what he was after.

He also did not want any gatorade, a bottle of wine, a clove of garlic out of the wicker basket, a magazine to read, anything from the spice rack, a stack of small plastic tupperware, or a cookbook. Within all of the clutter in, on, and around that shelf, it took Marty only a split-second to spot what somehow has become a coveted treat in this house.

If you look very closely on top of the orange and red Big Book of Grilling on the second shelf, you will see a small blue and white box. Inside the box are nine snowman Peeps that we bought right before we left for Christmas and forgot to take with us.

For some reason, short words that describe treats, like Peeps and Dibs, are very hard for him to remember (while words like "educational" roll right off his tongue). When he tries to remember what those treats are called, he comes out with just about every one syllable word except the right one. But although he couldn't remember what they were called, he did remember that they were (to him) delicious, and he was willing to stand there and point until I took them down. I suppose I could have made him wait until he came up with the right name, but I did have other things to do yesterday, so in the end I got them down and let him see them.

(And yes, he did score a Peep while still in his pajamas, but in my defense I made him plow through a whole bowl of grapes first.)