Now I'm pretty neurotic about clean, sweet smelling towels (and sheets ironed with a linen mist), so I typically wash them every three days. Apparently that is not good enough for my children, it's every day for them. This morning as I looked into the dirty clothes hamper and saw the very towels that I had hung in the bathroom last night after folding them from the dryer, I began to feel annoyed--ok, not annoyed, down right irritated. I leaned down and started to pick up Sarah Katherine's with the intention of throwing it back into her room where I would then berate her for leaving it on the floor. But as I was bending down, out of nowhere tears came to my eyes. You see, last week we went on our first college tour, and I saw my eldest blossom. I saw her walk across grounds at UVA, and I could picture her there. I could see it in my mind, and I know she will be walking the grounds of some college campus in two short years.
So I put that towel back in the hamper and lugged it to the laundry room where I will wash it again today and probably again tomorrow and the day after and the day after. In two years, I will wish I was washing her towels, her clothes, her sheets, and in six very short years all four will be gone. My laundry will massively decrease; my heart will be bursting with pride while it breaks. I will miss them terribly--even their towels.
PS--it helps that my wonderful husband just bought me an extra large washer and dryer!
