Misery loves company

**WARNING: Post may cause stress and anxiety. Contains graphic images.**

Before I jump right in, I need you to go get a cup of coffee, or juice, or water, or straight Kahlua or vodka, whatever ... to help ease you into a post about ...

LAUNDRY.

It's ok. You can go. Your page view still counts and that's really the only reason I have a blog so ... What. I thought this is the era where honesty is applauded???

ANYWAY. In Virginia we had an upstairs laundry room and to anyone who would listen I would be all like:

Since our laundry room is UPSTAIRS it's so hard to do laundry with the kids downstairs! I guess I could do it at night but I am sooooo tired from surviving all day that it's the last thing I want to do. It just doesn't get done.

Here in Texas our laundry room is downstairs and to anyone who listens I'm all like:

I hate laundry. It's the bane of my existence. There just aren't enough hours in the day to do it. It just doesn't get done.

So, for those who were wondering and waiting with baited breath as to whether I have been doing laundry now that it's downstairs, the answer is NO. Largely, because I've realized that laundry is completely counter productive. It's a vicious cycle and our society is so backwards that being naked isn't allowed laundry problem solved guys. Also, because the life cycle of laundry in The Parker house looks like this:

Phase One: Laundry is taken to Master Bedroom - folding and sorting takes place. Child has started destruction.

Phase Two: All sorting is destroyed, folding is unrecognizable. Child is in process of taking every folded item out of basket and off of bed.

Phase Three: Child is successful in creating a tornado of clothing. Parents get 100 extra points for being able to spot child among destruction.

Phase Four: Parents proceed to drink and cry and make an "Empress Face" while doing so.

I know. They are just children of the corn being children of the corn. I make a billion steps forward and they take me back to B.C. Hell, at least you don't have to wash loin cloths. They make #thestruggle so real it hurts.

Remember this post about Spring Break and how we just basically went to the art museum? Well, this picture has become my heartbeat song:

Maybe gold body paint while doing laundry would make it more ... better???

The only difference between this picture and reality is that I'm not golden.

So, if you have gathered that what I'm putting down is that I don't enjoy a majority of what it takes to be a stay-at-home-mom, then you are picking up EVERYTHING.