I'm starting to think that the Diva should be taking care of her own laundry. My reasons are many.
First: I keep inadvertently washing items that aren't laundry, like hangers and lip balm and hair elastics. Also, the hamper has become the place where she puts the clean clothes that she doesn't want to bother hanging up, working under the assumption that I will then wash them and hang them. Which is how it usually works out because I can barely keep track of what I've worn during any given week, much less what she has. Still, I'm noticing a trend of suspiciously clean garments in the obviously dirty bin.
Second: to get to her hamper, which lives in her closet, I have to cross her bedroom.
Actually, getting to the closet is a breeze because you can see all of the dolls, CDs and jewelry you are about to step on. It's the walking from the closet with the hamper that's tricky because you are effectively blinded. I shouldn't have to wear steel-toed boots to run a load of wash, for Pete's sake.
Third: because of the above point, putting clean clothes away is epic. Homer would have written an ode or two about the journey from door to dresser to closet.
Fourth: and this is the Diva's opinion, because I am mean and I hate freedom.
Lately, I will enter the octagon that is her room long enough to grab the dirty stuff, then leave the newly cleansed garments in a pile outside the door for her to put where they belong. So far, she has done as required and, miracle of miracles, hung stuff up without being nagged.
For the record, I kind of like doing laundry. It is my favorite household task, if only because my required input in the process is minimal and the reward is great.
If the modern washer hadn't been invented (and didn't have the cool door on the front where you can watch the soap suds spin), I'm certain I'd feel less happy about this chore. For now, however, it's not one I've been looking to hand off. Unlike, say, scrubbing the downstairs bathroom. That one I'm thrilled to be rid of.
The other factor that keeps me from handing the chore off is my own doubt. I'm not certain she can be trusted to do her own laundry.
This would be an easier call to make, mind, if I had some kind of guide book to how old a kid needs to be to do certain chores. Asking my own parents how old I was when I started to do various things has been no help, mostly because they can't remember anymore. I understand completely. Kids destroyed my memory, too.
The Diva is an easily distracted nine, which renders me certain that she should not be trusted with any job that involves anything sharp, like mowing the lawn. Ditto any chore that requires any level of accuracy, also like mowing the lawn.
Vacuuming and dusting are well within her wheelhouse, even if the grime higher up that five feet tends to be missed.
But I'm just not sure about laundry. There are a lot of stairs between her room and the basement, especially when you are carrying a heavy hamper. I can almost guarantee that she'd add too much soap, no matter how many times it was explained that doubling the recommended amount of detergent won't make them any cleaner for any longer.
Also, the temptation to lure her brother into the dryer might be too great.
It must be said that part of my hesitation stems from my love of my high efficiency front loading washer. While I'm well aware that attachment to tangible objects is the route to all suffering in Eastern religions, my well-being is contingent on my washer's well-being. If it were injured, I would feel its pain.
Yes, this is very sad. That doesn't make it any less true.
My husband and I spent many, many years in a washerless wasteland, where were wandered the streets in search of a washeteria or schlepped heaps of garments down to communal coin-op machines in basements.
The arrival of our first washing machine was a day of great rejoicing. And I swore, like Scarlett O'Hara, that I would never go washerless again.
It's a First World issue, admittedly. But I really like my washing machine.
Which is why I hesitate to turn the Diva loose with it, no matter how much I loathe her personal laundry situation.
I should let this go. I know that. Kids need to be able to wash their own underpants before they leave my house. Sooner, preferably. The problem, like so many that crop up during parenting, is mine.
Adrienne Martini is a freelance writer, instructor at the State University College at Oneonta, mom to Maddy and Cory, wife to Scott, and author of "Sweater Quest." Her columns can be found at www.thedailystar.com/parentingimperfect.
Parenting Imperfect
I just don't know if I can turn over control of the washer quite yet
- Parenting Imperfect
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I'm relieved it's not just me
For the last few years, I've been convinced that I'm just harder on things than other people are.
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A tactical error in the handoff
My kids are lucky enough to have half of their grandparents within a three-hour drive.
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A potentially quiet afternoon interrupted by a dog and a balloon
The kids spent most of Martin Luther King Jr. Day bickering.
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The dog is a getting to be an expert at training
This sentence took 20 minutes to type.
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Bad things can happen when trends are no longer trendy
When I was a kid, it used to drive me bonkers that my mom didn't know anything about the most important things in my world. She had no idea what a friendship pin was or how you'd make one. She couldn't name any good band, i.e., the ones a pre-teen would listen to like Duran Duran or Wham. And she didn't find Robert Downey Jr. nearly as dreamy as I did.
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Letting go can be more difficult for me than the kids
And so we enter the silly season, the one in which all of us run around like chickens without noggins.
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Despite all the fighting, sometimes the kids get along
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Going to church about much more than religious talk
After a good five years of fully intending to go to church but never quite making it out of the house on a Sunday morning, we've been attending since the beginning of the year.
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Lessons learned from puppy a lot like those from kids
And so our first summer with a dog closes. Lessons have been learned, as I suspected they might. In case you are pondering a similar addition to your house, here are a few of them.
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Summer and the wonderment of caterpillars, butterflies
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Beware the Zombie Squirrel
This is a story about Zombie Squirrel.
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Strangest days are right before the school year ends
This month's column may be more scattered than usual. As I write this, we're in that limbo between when I'm off for the summer and when my kids are. It's one of the strangest times of the year.
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Diva finally got what she wanted for half her life
I am weak.
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A parenting phobia that will leave you scratching your head
One of my two worst parent phobias came to pass last month. Even simply typing its name makes my head all swimmy. The Diva, as happens to kids her age, succumbed to lice, passed along by one of her fellow fourth-graders.
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Oh, how the worries change as the children grow
Most days, we are all just trying to do our best under really challenging circumstances.
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Newborn phase would be much better if there were deadlines
Friends of mine just had their first baby.
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Bathing children shouldn't have to be this hard
I just hurt my throat while yelling at my children.
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The Christmas crunch is getting to be way too much
There are two reasons that I would like to be Canadian.
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The Kingdom of the Mouse offers lessons and true magic
Some opportunities simply fall into your lap.
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I'm relieved it's not just me
