The earth must be shifting. Or Jupiter’s up in Saturn’s business or whatever it means in the planet world when things are miraculously out of the ordinary. I know this because I’ve kept up on laundry for—wait for it…Two. Weeks. Straight. This has only happened to me, like, maybe three times in my history of housewifery. And now that I’ve got this groove going, I’m obsessed with not losing it.  Like if I see one pair of underwear in the hamper, I want to hand wash them, dry them with a hair dryer and slip them back into a drawer before they multiply and I lose control again. I actually thought I had a great idea when I skipped the laundry basket all together and started putting the clothes I took off right into the washer to sit there until I had a full load, but Brett caught me. “Babe, the washer isn’t a laundry basket.” I can’t think of one good reason why not, but he’s got the whole age-and-experience thing going for him, and he’s way cleaner than I am, so when it comes to matters of order, I don’t really have a leg to stand on.

Every life category seeps into the next, and there are big things you can learn from just about anything. So, Laundry. Life lessons in that basket, there are.

Like what?

Let’s start with an easy one:

Socks get lost. Deal with it. 
In the scheme of the world’s problems, we’re talking a very low ranking here. Which is exactly where most of the things over which we get bent out of shape belong—with the socks. When I feel myself getting frustrated and designating energy to something in life, I want to ask myself—“Is this important or is this just another sock?”  Don’t give energy to the socks in life. Save it for the vintage sweaters.

Stop Overanalyzing and Get to the Bottom of the Basket
The biggest problem I have with accumulating laundry is follow-through. I’ll start sorting and washing clothes, starting with pulling out the favorite things I wear most, but I can never follow through to empty the entire basket because once I pull out my favorites, my enthusiasm is shot. The bottom of the basket where all the weird odds and ends build up is what kills me. I stop. I can’t deal. A Christmas-themed cloth napkin. A sash for that one dress I never wear. A pillowcase. Two mismatching socks. A doll dress (how’d that get in there?) A table runner. A romper that doesn’t fit Nella anymore. A shirt I think I hate but I’m not sure. A pair of pants with a little tear that I plan on sewing some day when everything else I’ve ever wanted to do gets done.

It’s too much decision making. Where do I put it? Do I sew it first? Do I iron it first? Do I put it in the Goodwill bag? Do I give it to a friend? Do I save it in case someday I wish I would have kept it?  I end up just leaving it in the basket and walking away with the sad realization that I quit.

The thing is: You can’t stop. You have to keep going—finish the laundry!—and the only way you can get to the bottom of the basket in life is to STOP OVERANALYZING and MAKE A DECISION. The fate of the world is not dependent on whether the belt to that Halloween costume ends up in a closet or the garbage. You just have to do something with it so that you can complete the task and move on.
Listen: Bitches get shit done. Don’t make small decisions more important than they are.

You Can’t Hide Stanky Laundry. 
Thought you could skip a rewash and the heat of the dryer would destankify it? Think again. When things stink in life, it’s a sign to clean it up. Spraying perfume ain’t gonna hide the stank. Face the facts. It stinks (hey, it happens). Deal with it. Do the work.

It’s Hard for Everyone.
Think you’re the only one who can’t keep up? You’re not alone. There are plenty of other women out there who pray company doesn’t accidentally open the laundry room door, mistaking it for the guest bathroom. Laundry is hard for everyone. Take comfort in the fact that you belong to a village–a tacklin’-laundry, raisin’-babies, pickin’-up-preschoolers, contemplatin’-dinner-recipes, self-analyzin’-ways-of-doing-things village. Whatever you’re facing…you’re not alone. The Laundry Village unites and supports you.

The Less You Have, the Easier the Wash Load.
Too much stuff = too much laundry, and buying extra laundry baskets ain’t fooling anyone. If folded clothes don’t fit in the drawers, you have too much stuff. Pare your closet (and your kids’ closet) down to most favorite, most worn things, and laundry will be much more manageable. Plus, it’s great incentive to do laundry when you’re running out of things to wear. I’m not naturally wired for simplicity and organization, but when I create it in life, everything’s easier and more manageable.

If You Love Your Wardrobe, You’ll Like the Laundry Job More
When I invest in quality clothes that I really love, I want to take care of them. Hanging pretty blouses to dry and folding that favorite pair of jeans I’ll want to wear tomorrow is a lot more fun than tackling a basket full of stretched-out impulsive sale buys. Likewise, life is a lot more pleasant when we choose to spend it with people and events that truly make us happy and build us up. Even the hard work doesn’t seem so bad when it involves good things and good people.

Tackle a Load of Towels to Give Yourself a Break
If all laundry looked like a load of towels, how wonderful life would be. Three easy folds and they’re done—and they all go in the same closet. Some days, all I can handle are the towels. And that’s okay.

Break the Rules—Wash Something that Says “Dry Clean Only” (gasp!)
Ooooh—dangerous. But I’ve done it many times—a delicate wash and a lay-flat-to-dry—without ruining a dress. Not all rules are meant to be followed.

If You Try and Enjoy It, You Just Might Like It
Put a rainbow on it. As much as I say I hate laundry, I admit I enjoy a nice Saturday morning when I try to like it. Brew a pot of coffee, use a favorite detergent, clip clothes to an outside laundry line and watch them flutter while they dry in the sun. Set up the ironing board, turn on You’ve Got Mail, smile and hum as you press wrinkled cotton. Line up hangers of ready-to-wear favorites and delight in the satisfaction of knowing you worked hard; it’s done. I like to think of not-so-fun jobs less as labor and more as ritual. A lot of times, it works.

I should also add that I started this post last night and at post time, there’s a new heap of clothes, already wrinkled, on my bed that need to be put away. 

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And speaking of getting things under control, Lainey’s very into accessories right now, but we’ve had a hard time keeping them together. They either get lost or pushed to the bottom of a drawer where they’re forgotten, so we made an accessory rack this past weekend. We used a 24-inch towel bar (spray painted it red), simple shower curtain rings and painted clothespins. The small key chain-style shower rings fit perfectly into the holes of wooden clothespins.

Voila.

Sharing another voice here today, so cozy up. Pillows, coffee, coconut cake. Whatever it takes.

I’d like you to meet Chrissy Kelly. Introduced through some mutual connections, Chrissy and I e-mailed back and forth a few times this year until we finally met in person at Write Doe Bay on Orcas Island in April–first with an introductory hug over drinks and music and later that night in her cabin with a much tighter hug and a string of funny stories. Chrissy is warm and funny with a God-given gift for making people feel seen and heard. She also writes (at Life With Greyson & Parker), takes beautiful pictures, shares the journey of raising children with special needs and celebrates a life with a half-full glass (clink!).

I love that when you click on her blog, it says in bold letters at the top: A Blog Changing the World. 
I wrote her today: “I love that your blog says ‘a blog changing the world’. That’s ownership. The people who will truly change the world are the ones who aren’t afraid to say ‘I’m changing the world.'” 

She wrote back: “Do you know what’s funny? It used to say ‘A Blog TRYING to Change the World. But one day–after over a year of writing–I realized how easy it is to change just one world and therefore change the whole wide world. I know because kind people and teachers and moms have changed mine.”

Amen to that.

Thank you for bringing your world-changing voice to this space today, Chrissy.

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The End of the World, The Beginning of a New One
Chrissy Kelly

I’ve always been a glass half full kind of gal. Sometimes the hope for a silver lining is the only thing that shines brightly enough to lead the way. That tiny flicker of light – that hope – was all I had on my first steps as a mother. I was so unrelentingly bad at first – and no matter how hard I tried, the power of positive thinking was not making me a better mom. Everything overwhelmed me – midnight diaper changes, sleepless nights, whatever the hell swaddling was – I was terrible at all of it. Nursing refused to come naturally – my boob was supposed to keep another human alive? My son Greyson cried every single time I pulled a onesie over his head and every time I placed him in his car seat. The moments I actually did something right seemed separated by days in a row of doing everything wrong.

I’ve tried and failed and quit plenty of things in my life – learning to play the guitar, painting, running. But children aren’t a pair of roller blades you can hide in the closet after you’ve fallen down for the 1,000th time – I really didn’t have any other choice but to keep at it, imperfectly and with love. And it was hard at first, to love something at which I was just so incredibly inept- that was new for me. But I loved so big that I didn’t mind the fact that my mothering instinct didn’t kick in right away. I was willing to try and learn for the most amazing little boy in the world. And after so (SO) many mistakes, mothering became my sea salt and caramel. A buzzing Friday afternoon and a Saturday sleep-in. I loved it and hated it. I was amazing and terrible – always at the same time. I focused on what I was good at and worked to let go of feelings of doubt and inadequacy. It never came anywhere close to flawless, but there came a time when I finally felt confident in the rhythm Greyson and I established. Motherhood made me realize the only weapon I had against my human imperfection was perspective.

A couple of years after we welcomed Greyson into the world, I had another little beautiful boy named Parker. This time, everything was much more straightforward. I was a whiz at onesies, car seats and nursing. I never did master that darn swaddle (has anyone but the amazing hospital nurses?), but I was much more forgiving with my shortcomings. My allowance for my imperfections didn’t give them the power to hold me back.

Then, just as I started to feel comfortable in this new world with two itty bitties, it became evident that my first-born son Greyson had autism. I felt like it was the end of the world. And in so many ways, it was. I constantly shook with fear. I wanted to stay in bed all day. I cried my eyes swollen and ate only so I could nurse baby Parker. I desperately searched all over for something or someone who could promise I would laugh again, but I couldn’t find it. The life we had created, our happy and imperfect little world, had shattered. In its place was a mysterious but surely tormenting future full of questions I could barely ask let alone answer: What will happen to Greyson? Will he go to college? Live on his own? Will my son ever find love?

Life had to keep going. Like no-other-options had to keep going. I read everything I could on autism. I had to start Greyson on every therapy and change his diet and get my PhD in Early Childhood Development. I was a beginner AGAIN in this new world of Special Needs. This, combined with the terrifying future I couldn’t stop thinking about, was too much to cope with, and I found myself quickly moving towards a different, parallel world. I constantly imagined what life would look like if Greyson didn’t have autism. In this corresponding daydream everything was just right and easy. Parallel Greyson asked me for second helpings of pancakes and called me mama and haggled for later bedtimes, melting me with his big beautiful eyes while asking for one more drink of water. Parallel Greyson doesn’t have to go be in Speech Therapy right now, I would think. We’re at the zoo with the rest of our friends. I imagined our days free of schedules, tantrums and tears. Parallel Greyson (and Parallel Chrissy) tortured me constantly, smugly rubbing my nose in their perfect, unencumbered world before then reminding me how terrible I was for even imagining them in the first place.

And then one day I remembered my good old friend and my greatest strength: perspective. It had been missing for so long that I thought it was gone forever. I missed it so much. I thought about how I would feel if my husband Michael was constantly wishing me to be someone else. To be something else. Things I couldn’t ever be – like taller or a better cook. (Trust me, I’ve been working on that one forever. This is as good as it’s going to get, folks.) I thought about how horrible that must feel, to be compared constantly to what I am not through absolutely no fault of my own. I thought about how mean that would make him for even considering the comparison. I love Greyson more than anything, and I want to be the good in his life, not the scowling pessimist I felt like I had become. I knew right then we had to move again. We’d made it through the end of the world, but this parallel world was no place to raise two little boys with Special Needs- aka Super Powers, either.

One day, a few months after Greyson was officially diagnosed with autism, we made our final journey into the real world. The dull pain of staying the same was hurting so much more than the sharp stabs I felt moving forward. I was ready to fully mourn and let go of the child I expected to have in my head. I was ready to stop the comparisons and the what-if daydreams. I was officially ready to fully accept, without any conditions, the real and beautiful boy God had given me – the one lining up his toy cars on the living room floor and wailing when he didn’t want to put his shirt back on, the one spitting- just to watch it’s trajectory off our balcony and jumping with everything he’s got on our tiny little trampoline. I realized I need him to teach me the world so much more than he needs me.

Although his actual birthday is in June, one day in August five months after he was diagnosed, I decided to celebrate Greyson’s birth and the boy he actually is. He is my wildest dream come true, and I needed to honor that for all the goodness it holds. We went down to the winding San Joaquin River near our home in the Central Valley of California as an act of baptism. We waded through the cool waters, a stark contrast to the stifling heat, and I fully committed to let go of the comparisons. I vowed to kick my addiction to the parallel world. I was finally willing to love and accept our actual life and all the gifts I have been given, to wash away all the other worlds through which I’d stumbled through- and needed at the time, and to give thanks for the very real world in which I was a proud mother bursting with nothing but love for her beautiful sons.

Just last month my youngest son Parker was officially diagnosed with autism. Although I kind of always knew, it still stung. It was hard, but as with Mom-ing, it’s been much easier for us the second time around. I never had any other expectations about who I thought Parker would be and I love him just the way he is. There was no Parallel Parker poisoning my imagination – there was only the teeny blond boy with the puppet mouth who falls into our favorite frog pond every now and then. If I could wave a magic wand and take both boys’ autism away, I would. But since I can’t, I focus on reality. I’m committed to living in the real world. Don’t mistake this assurance to mean I do this perfect now or never take a tiny little trip back through any of our old worlds sometimes. I just know what’s important to me, and I know what makes me happy- this is decidedly it.

The best gift you can give your child is the gift of a happy you. Happiness must begin with you, so I work hard at it. Some days REALLY hard because it’s not coming naturally. I’ve realized in life, the happier I am, the more happiness I can also create and then share. I do everything I can think of to live in the present, deeply rooted in the reality of today. I also focus on the many blessings we never would have known had we not been on this path. We’ve had astonishing experiences and have met so many remarkable people along the way. My boys love the trash truck, and our garbage man Frank waits until he gets to our house to take his lunch break. He loves my boys as much as they love the truck- which is a heck of a lot.

I’d never expected a trash collector to have such a profound impact on my life. In fact, almost everything about motherhood often surprises me with good. The jarring discrepancy between my expectations and my daily life used to paralyze me with fear. “I’m doing this wrong,” I’d tell myself. And in reality, I was- it was just a matter of perspective. Now I look at my two itty-bitties, absolutely perfect in their imperfections. They could never be wrong. They, like all of us, simply need to be loved for who they truly are.

The end of the world doesn’t have to be bad, I’ve discovered. Sometimes it just means it’s the beginning of a new one.

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Read more of Chrissy on her blog: Life With Greyson & Parker
Connect with Chrissy on Facebook.
Find her on Instagram: @lifewithgrey

Enjoying these random things…

* The spam mail I got today from a company called The Unincorporated Life and the fact that I read it twice as the Unicorn-ated Life. Horns unite. And sparkle hoofs.

* Dash walking. I hear flat feet slapping the tile in staccato rhythm all day long. It’s better than Pandora.

* Sriracha sauce. Romaine. Topped with dry albacore tuna. Topped with parmesan. Topped with light caesar dressing. Topped with sriracha–liberal application. Best lunch ever.

* Following Rachel Brathen @yoga_girl on IG. Her affirmations are like a soul juice cleanse…with a side of hot sauce. Yer welcome.

* Discovering my spirit animal. I took a real legit test as in 15 questions I found on the Internet. Dude. I’m a HAWK.  I knew it. I Believe I Can Fly is my jam. Here’s the drawback of hawks though: “A brilliant visionary, you sometimes forget the mundane details of life like eating, sleeping or paying bills” which made me laugh hard because truth is funny. That’s why I surround myself with Owls and Cougars and Foxes and Spiders.

* Celebrating our 7-year-old this past weekend. She wanted a pool party with classroom friends, so we spent the entire day Saturday in the water. She’s seven but she still has her infant cheek dimple, and I love that.

Our pool cake was super easy–a regular white cake with buttercream frosting (cooked two cake mixes in three round pans and stacked), topped with a Jello Jigglers pool. I followed Jello Jigglers recipe for blue Jello, let it set in greased glass cake pan overnight, cut pool shape with a butter knife and lifted it out with no problems and laid on cake top. Pool tiles are York peppermint pieces (sold in a bag), life rings are wintergreen Lifesavers with piped red icing and palm trees and lawn chairs came from Michael’s.

* Memorial Day adventures. Mini golf (in which Dash channeled the cutest old man golfer ever) and panning for gems at Congo River Golf.

* Our summer excitement build-up collected in this little video of happy summer things. Thinking about summer, A.A. Milne said it best: “Well,” said Pooh, “what I like best,” and then he had to stop and think. Because although eating honey was a very good thing to do, there was a moment just before you began to eat it which was better than when you were, but he didn’t know what it was called. — A.A. Milne

Song: In the Summertime by Mungo Jerry

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This week I’m over at BabyZone with the coolest beach toys for summer (we love the dinosaur bones digging set and the cupcake maker!)

…and over at eHow with a list of great kid entertainment activities to pack in your travel bag for road and plane trips this summer (the Find It! Game is the bomb, the end).

Short week for us with yesterday’s holiday, so Happy Tuesday, Happy Tomorrow. And if “happy” seems a goal just too far off for your tomorrow right now, take baby steps. Just be nice to yourself.