My son got socks out of the treasure box in his SK classroom for reading ten books. I have never been so thrilled with a treasure box item. Socks! That match! And it was a set of three.
"That will last for at least a week," I thought happily. I have a real problem with socks. There are five of us in the family, so I have five different kinds of socks. I don't know where they end up, but it is not in the same load of laundry. I have a huge basket full of unmatched socks. It drives me crazy to keep on top of what I call 'the sock situation'. And it is a situation. I am barely hanging on, here. Socks 1: Jen 0.
Laundry in general is a real problem. Lately I've been fishing silly bandz out of both my washer and dryer. You know you're a parent when you have crayon marks and stickers all over the inside of your dryer, and pennies and rocks in the bottom of your washer.
You also know you're a parent when one of the happiest thoughts of your day is that it's pizza day, and you don't have to make lunch. Is there anything better? Anything more wonderful than the realization that you don't have to make sandwiches that day? When I'm running around in the morning making three breakfasts and signing agendas and checking whether it's library day so I have to return a book, and setting out clothes and those annoying socks, and then I remember about pizza day, it's a great moment. I always think with a huge sense of relief, "Thank GOD it's pizza day! That just made my day!" I don't want to say the sun breaks out of the clouds...but it does.
When my son was four he was helping me make pancakes. I let him pour the batter and flip a pancake all by himself for the first time. He said proudly to me: "I'm really becoming a man now, aren't I Mommy?" I answered, "Yes, you are. Now if you can just learn to do laundry and sort socks...there is nothing more manly than that!"