a confession

And now, a confession.  I am teased often about my anal housekeeping habits.  I always respond the same ~ if I weren't organized, I'd lose my head.  And my keys.  And my planner.  And my shoes... well, you get the picture.  BUT.  One thing, which I alluded to recently, that I am not the best at is laundry. 

I do keep up on it and I have a good system for keeping it organized, that's not the problem.  I am not a good laundress.  My mother, on the other hand, is a laundry queen.  She loves ironing.  She is a bleach fanatic.  The woman bleaches and washes sneakers regularly.  Everything she owns looks brand new and is always sparkling white.  Sometimes, the smell of bleach in her house makes your eyes water.  But, unfortunately, I never learned this "talent" from my mother.

In actuality, Mom never taught me one single thing about housekeeping.  I was raised in a sterile environment with plastic on the furniture, white carpeting, glass and mirrors everywhere.  Mom worked all day and apparently, after Rick and I went to bed, she stayed up all night cleaning, because there was never a thing out of place. Honestly.  Before I married Doug, I had never cleaned one toilet, washed a window or done any other housekeeping skill, other than washing dishes a few times and there was that one pair of jeans.  (And I didn't do that right, ask Mom.) 

The reason that I had never done any of those homemaking chores was because Mom wanted them done "right".  "Right" meant her way and her way was the only way.  Heaven forbid that we fold a towel wrong.  So, she did it all herself.  I'm here to say...BIG PARENTING MISTAKE.  (This is not a Mom-bash.  She taught us lots of other good things, such as hard work ethics, go the extra mile, be generous and kind to strangers, help those in need.  She just didn't want anyone doing her housework!)

When I married Doug, it didn't take me long to discover that an ugly ring develops in the toilet if it's not cleaned often, that ovens get dirty, floors need mopping regularly and so on.  I went to our little town library and checked out every homemaking book I could get my hands on.  (As I recall, there were three...one of which was my first Homemaking Bible, Daryl Hoole's "The Art of Homemaking".)  I read these books cover to cover and took notes and read them again.  And I learned.  I asked questions and observed every woman who I admired for their homemaking skills and learned more.  I took classes on homemaking and home management and got proficient enough that after a few years, I was asked to teach the classes.  I'd learned something well enough to teach it.  Cool beans.

I digress.  To this day, I have never mastered laundry.   I'm just plain and simple not good at it.  Again, I get it done efficiently.  I have an organized laundry room.  But.  My socks and unmentionables are never look like new.  Gracie's zebra striped shirt turns grey after a few washings because is it a dark or a light?  White collars on hot pink... well, I just try to not buy things like that.  I'm more of a solids gal.   And then there was this little faux pax, about five years ago, that I'm still horrified about.  I didn't realize that I'd left a tube of red lipstick in the pocket of this special white dress.  I tossed it in the dryer to get out any wrinkles and ten minutes later, this was what I found!  I still cry when I think about it.  
 
Back to the big confession. I have a huge laundry phobia.  Silly as it may seem.  After over 14 years of serving in Relief Society Presidencies, always in the Homemaking department, I have neverwashed the Relief Society tableclothes.  Not once.  Ever. I have always managed to "allow" someone else the "privilege".  For those reading this who are not LDS, you should know that the Relief Society tableclothes, used at most church functions that involve food, are near sacred.  (Not spiritually sacred, but as in prized, cherished, treated like gold.)  The Relief Society President gaurds and protects them with their lives during their tenure.  They loan them out with great reservation and near sacred covenants that you will gaurd them the same, while they are in your possession. I've never lived in a ward that this wasn't the case.  (Justifiably so, because they are expensive and it would be easy to lose track of them or have them not cared for properly or be unavailable when needed.)

So, two weeks ago, when I called our Relief Society President to ask to use the tableclothes for the stake dinner that I was decorating for, she brought them over almost immediately.  (She's a loving, gentle lady and, she didn't even ask for one of my children as collateral.)  She carried them in, folded neatly in a clear storage container, labeled "Smithfield First Ward Relief Society" in permanent marker on the lid.  I cautioned the whole family to not touch the bin, as soon as she left.

Two days later, as soon as the big Stake gathering ended, I gathered them up, along with the help of a member of our Stake Presidency, making certain to count and double count and checking for any serious spots that might need immediate attention, then, put them back, in a bundle, into the storage container. When we got home, Doug carried the container down to the laundry room for me.  And.  For the past ten days, I've stared at it with fear. 

I've been mortified to wash the tableclothes.  I'm 53 years old and seriously afraid of these 12 round pieces of sparkling, white polyester.  What if I permanently set a spot in the dryer?  What if one gets torn in the washer?  What if there's a tube of red lipstick in the dryer? I even considered asking Mom to wash them!

Last night, I stayed up far too late.  It was after two when I climbed into bed.  Doug gets up at 3:55.  I had a good two hour nap but when we woke up, for some reason, the tableclothes were on my mind.  "What if Nyla drops by this morning to pick them up?"  They were just screaming my name from the laundry room.  I got up, went downstairs, removed the tableclothes from the container, checked every inch of every one of them for spots, took a deep breath and washed them. In hot water.  With a little bleach.  Then, I tossed them into the dryer, after checking it for crayons and lipstick or any other foreign objects, and dried them for only a few minutes, for fear that they'd shrink and be more like doilies when I took them out of the dryer.  I folded them neatly and returned them to the bin to return to our kind and wonderful Relief Society President.  All is well.  I really do need to get over this fear.  

So, why do I write this diatribe about tableclothes.  A few thoughts come to my mind:

• We let ourselves worry about the lamest things.  Most of our fears are never come to pass.  There really are enough serious issues in life, why do we let ourselves get worked up over the trivial.
• When we have a fear, the best way to conquer it is to just do it!  Rather than letting something paralyze us, move forward.  Take it on!  What's the worst that could happen? 
• Learn from your mistakes.  Mistakes, generally speaking, don't kill us.  Even with all that red lipstick on my beautiful white dress, I'm still alive.  And I know I won't make that mistake again!
• Teach your children how to work.  Zaylee,  who is barely three, sets the table every night.  Last night, when I said it was almost time to eat, she went straight to the drawer and pulled out the placemats, set them in place and continued to set the table, down to the salt and pepper.  Never be afraid to teach your children age-appropriate responsibilities.  Everyone can and will benefit from their knowledge and skills.
• And last, but not least, if you've ever had a desire to write a book, "How to do laundry well " is a great topic idea.  I'd buy it.

Enough said. 

If you stumble, make it a part of the dance.

Comments

[Holly F.]

Oh, that made me laugh about the table cloths. I didn't know enough to be scared, the few times I ended up washing them. Now maybe I will be. :-)

(It seemed like when Carol was R.S. Pres., she seemed quite happy to pass the washing off to me whenever I volunteered. Now I know why.)

[Katie]

I am laughing so hard because I was in charge of the table clothes when I was in the presidency. I do have to say ours had special instructions I always told those who used them to give them back to me dirty so I could wash them the right way- only in COLD- no bleach, it would turn ours yellow. And only with dreft degtergent- only spray and wash on the spots. Low heat in the dryer. SO weird. I should have just written out the instructions and let others do it now that I read this but oh well. I am finally released - yahoo! Now it is someone elses worry:)

[susan]

did you keep that robe? is it still hanging, hauntingly, in your laundry? that would explain a lot if you did

[Pamela K.]

LOL! It's funny. My mom still to this day will not let anyone touch her laundry. She is extremely OCD about it. So, I never learned how to do laundry growing up. It was much trial and error when I first got married, too. Now, I really do not mind that chore. Just, please, do not ask me to do the ironing. :-P