The Dirty Truth

Hey, it's a long weekend...no work, all play. What do you want to do today? Apple picking? Topsfield Fair?Hey, how about 14 loads of laundry? Doesn't that sound like fun?

When you live with 2 high school age teens, the equation looks something like this.

1 day x 4 wardrobe changes x 2 rejected outfits x several pairs of yoga pants that were worn for 27 minutes each x my sister's clean clothes that "fall" into the hamper = "I don't know how we have so much laundry, mom! But it's definitely not our fault."

Sound familiar to anyone? I have tried every imaginable tactic to fight against the assault. I have tried making my daughter's do their own laundry. Don't even ask how that went (said the mother in the too tight sweater). I have fined them for putting clean clothes in the laundry. I have threatened to take cell phones away and I have ranted until I couldn't stand the sound of my own voice.

I'm still losing the battle. I'm ready to beat myself over the head with a bottle of fabric softener.

So I guess it's time for some guerilla warfare. (And a lot of Tide and Wisk). I figure what my daughter's don't know won't hurt them and I'm sure they have this same philosophy with me so...right back at ya!

I am now doing midnight runs and taking things out of the hamper, folding them, and returning them to their drawers. (minus the underwear of course, that would be just gross). But jeans, sweaters, towels - yup, they are all fair game. I figure two can play at this game. Childish? Maybe.Hey, I don't mind doing laundry but washing clean clothes or entire outfits that were worn for 43 seconds is just silly and time consuming and certainly not cheap when you get the water usage fees. Then there's the societal guilt that is imposed when you get the electric bill that says that you use way more energy than your "cost-efficient" neighbors. They even give you the little graph with the line that is way above the rest that is marked "YOU" (you gluttonous pig).

Gee thanks for that. It's quite an honor to be me.

I know that my approach would qualify as bad parenting and here's the thing: I don't really care. If it frees up time for me to watch a movie with my husband or have a glass of wine, well sign me up. I mean I love my kids madly but I'm not going to let a couple of teens take the spin out my cycle. 

There it is: the dirty truth.