Dearest Child,
So, as we're waiting to get THE phone call that your birth mom is in labor, I've been checking and triple checking to make sure we're ready to go. The bags are packed, lists have been made, and the arrangements have been made to ensure that our dogs don't starve while we're gone.
It's in this frantic "Are-you-ready-because-I-think-I'm-ready-but-I-guess-we-won't-really-know-until-he-or-she-is-here-if-we've-prepared-everything-oh-boy-it-really-could-happen-ANY-TIME-and-gosh-darnit-that-reminds-me-that-I-need-to-go-to-the-Highway-Patrol's-Office-to-see-if-we-installed-the-carseat-right" mode that a new fear struck my heart: the laundry.
I'm so scared that we'll forget one of the "must-haves" in our frantic mad dash out of the house that will follow THE phone call (I don't know why, but whenever I make that statement I must put extra emphasis on "THE" because surely it will be unlike any other ordinary phone call). For example, it might seem logical that our camera is one of those things that MUST go into the overnight bag when we go to the hospital. Your father took it today to take a picture of this boat and he got the two minute lecture of how important it is that the camera make its way back to its original spot on the counter lest we forget it and be the worst parents EVER because we didn't take pictures of our precious little one in the hospital because HEAVEN FORBID it should NOT be where it's supposed to be when we make the aforementioned mad dash out the door to the hospital.
But back to the laundry. The thought of rushing out of the house and accidentally leaving clothes in the washer to ferment and smell and get all gross strikes fear in my heart. Allow me to explain: usually, laundry is an all weekend event: one load goes in the washer while another goes in the dryer. This cycle is repeated six or seven times until all of our clothes are dry, folded and smelling Downy fresh. Like most people, laundry is something that is done on the side when I've got other, more important things going on (like updating this blog).
While I was repacking your baby bag the other day, the thought occurred to me that, in that prophetic mad dash out the door, we might not remember that there's a wet load of laundry waiting to go into the dryer. Granted, I don't think anyone would blame us if we did forget: who in their right mind honestly thinks of laundry after getting word that they need to get to the hospital NOW because their son/daughter is on his/her way? Right. Not what one would typically think about during that exciting time.
Which is why it is entirely feasible that laundry could be left for days on end to get all gross while we're in the hospital. It's also why I have taken it upon myself to worry about it now because chances are I won't be worrying about it when THE time comes. At any rate, I've managed to appease my fears by washing clothes little by little. Once a load is washed AND dried, I put the next load in. It takes twice as long, but it puts my laundry fears to rest.
I know--I'm cookoo. But you still love me and hopefully (if my plan works), you won't be brought home for the first time only greeted by the rancid smell of sour towels.
Lots of love,
Your mommy
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