Airing My Dirty Laundry In Public.

The bain of my stay at home existance.  The thorn in my side, the pain in my domestic aspirations.  Ugh the trials of my laundry.  Yes, I am going to lament the state of my laundry. 

Ok, the reason I decided to write about this started with a comment somone made to me recently when they found out how large our family is.

"So...what is that like?  Like, if your making dinner how many chickens do you cook?"

This is my reality, so....it's my reality, but many people just can't imagine what its like to live with so many people.  So I have decided to do some posts on just what its like from a logistics standpoint to have a super sized family.

The first thing I will tell you about my laundry is; it is insane.  I'm not trying to exagerate but really insane. 

We produce at least 15 pairs of dirty underwear everyday.  Ok, your doing the math, 11 people in the family...15 pairs of undwear?  I'm not going to shock you with the details, lets just say that kids are gross, especially the ones that are potty training, and those recently potty trained..ish.  

105 pairs of underwear a week, holy bleach loads daddy.  Can you say comando Fridays?

154 socks per week!

When I first started staying home I very quickly decided that if the kids could find any two clean (or reasonably clean) socks on their own then that was good enough for me.  The thought of matching socks and delivering them back to assigned drawers, fantasy.  So matching socks and my kids, nope. Maybe on Sundays and special occasions, somtines if we are going to someones home that has a shoes off policy.   If I say your socks need to match, they ask what's the holiday.  Our socks go directly from the dryer into a large yard waste sized bin for communal storage and then its good luck to ya.

How many loads?  4-5 loads per day, ugh.  The little ones rarly make it through the whole day without a costume change, then there are all the dance clothes, towels, sheets, and don't even get me started on why kids need to get a new dish towel every time they spill something in the kitchen.

I am awsome at getting the loads sorted, washed, dryed and then I have a problem.  The folding, never enough time.  We just call it "the pile"  Dad I can't find my team jacket, pants, coat, bra, whatever..."check the pile"  This is the 6 foot tall mountian of clean stuff that grows outside the laundry room door during the week.  (at this point, please someone say they can relate to this) It grows and spreads down the hall as the kids paw through it looking for school clothes until Saturday when we get to this......

 

help. me.

Its more like fresh straw tossed into a stall for the farm animals!

Note, that this pile does not include any blankes, sheets, towels!  The kids always fold anything square or rectangular first even though I will never let them wear a comforter to school....or a wash cloth for that matter.

So there it is, super size family laundry.  I don't have a double set of washers and dryers so my fantsies of clothes that you just compost after one use, colors that don't bleed, kids that don't spill or pee, cotton that doesn't shrink and tropical climates where all but the minimum of clothes are usless,  will continue. 

Oh, and I cook 3 whole chickens at a time.

Potty Mouth

I haven't blogged about the adventures of my large family lately, even though they give me lots of stories I could share.  They don't leave me with lots of time!  This I had to share.

We have been working on potty training for about a decade straight around here, OK not really but it does seem like it.  I'm sure that I have reached some sort of lifetime record for most poopy diapers changed, at one point we had 5 in diapers and one developmentally delayed teen in pull ups!  Holy Crap! Literally.  You get creative disposing of that many diapers..... that's another post.

 

Well, Bits has been working on potty training for almost a year and we are finally having some success, with kids who have a history of trauma it just seems to take longer and be a more difficult transition.  She is three and a half and is finally getting the hang of it. 

This is big news, in the whole community

Recently I had to attend Gellys IEP, this is a meeting with all the service providers at the school for kids who are in Special Ed classes.  No sitter, so the babies were coming with me.  The last IEP meeting the babies came with me too, about 10 minutes into that meeting both of them pooped and filled the small office with a stink cloud that you could almost taste and probably clung to everyone's clothes for the rest of the day, gak.

So when we made it through the entire meeting this time with Bits sitting in the chair next to me and Jack-Jack playing quietly in the stroller, I was thinking, yeah, who's the dad! I'm so awesome, check out my perfectly well behaved non-poopin kids.

Then Bits took control of the meeting. All the paperwork had been signed and there was some chit chat going on as people began to get up.  Bits had waited patiently and sensed here moment.  She put her hands on the table and says, "everyone"  pause until everyone is looking at her, "so... I am totally pooping in the toilet!"  She looks around the room, glowing with pride.  Nobody says anything so she continues,  "sometimes I puuuuush (making a grunting noise) and make a giant, giant daddy poop!  throwing her arms wide!

Me:  Uhhhh.....

Sideways glances at me as they all try not to show on their faces that they just imagined me on the toilet. 

It was at this point that the Speech Therapist jumped right in with enthusiasm and says, "I love to poop on the toilet!"

Bits giggles and turns to the Principal, where do you poop?  She answers that she loves to poop on the toilet too!

We all then proceed to spend the next few minutes talking about where we poop and how much we all love to poo, no seriously this really happened.  And in a totally non creepy way...It gave me so much more confidence in Gelly's teachers.

The combination of a three year old with a personality as big as the sun and a bunch of Special Ed providers, that really get kids, made our poopy meeting kind of touching.  If they could recognize that my three year old needed this fecal fan club (that was funny) and jumped right in to encourage her, they were going to do a great job for my Gelly too.

It did encourage my little potty mouth however...

We have now talked about pooping with everyone at the pre-school, the cashiers at the IGA, and Safeway, all the parents at the bus stop, strangers in line at Goodwill, and just about anyone who will make eye contact with Bits. 

Yesterday she yelled, at the top of her lungs "I POOP IN THE TOILET!"  several times at the drive-thru order screen while I was ordering burgers.  They didn't hear her, so she had to yell some clarifying details when we pulled up to the pick up window.  "THERE'S NO POO IN MY PANTIES, JUST PRETTY PONIES!"

I just smile and ask for extra napkins.

Just Speak Calmly....

Yesterday I had to make a trip to the craft store to replenish some supplies for a batch of jewelry I'm making for market.  Usually not a big deal, half hour trip, even if I have a bunch of babies in tow.

Most of the time when I go to a store with lots of little ones I get lots of "your brave" or "oh, dad is babysitting today" and honestly a lot of "wow, your kids are very well behaved" This was not one of those days.

I knew I was pushing it.  The kids are all getting over sore throats and sniffles, they were tired, but I really needed to get some stuff and I was already out after dropping Buggy off at dance so I went for it.

I was in the bead isle when things started to go wrong.  I had just found the clearance section and was rooting through the bargains like I was looking for truffles and Jack-Jack started crying.  Bitsy had taken his bottle away. Jack-Jack was in the child seat part of the cart and Bitsy was in the basket, Cardo Man was walking; and I had already told him about 21 times not to stand on the edge of the cart, he could tip it over. 

Anyway I told Bitsy to give Jack-Jack is bottle back and she did, after she used her teeth to rip the nipple off.  I didn't catch is little act of defiance until Jack-Jack started crying again when he dumped the entire contents of the bottle in his own face, soaking himself and the floor under us.

I say, "Bitsy, that is not nice, give me the rest of Jack-Jacks bottle."

"no! you can't say it to me!"

"Bits, give it to me please" (just speak calmly Capable)

"NO!"

At this point she throws the nipple at me and a bottle of red paint I had put in the cart earlier and begins to howl!

Keep in mind that Jack-Jack is continuing to scream his little head off because he is soaked in milk and his precious nipple is missing.

It is now that Cardo Man switches from "Can we buy this? Can we buy this? Can we buy this?" to "Dad, Dad, Dad, Dad...."

"Cardo wait a minute..."

Cardo bouncing up and down on his toes "DAD, MY POOP IS COMING OUT!"

Really?

I have a milk soaked screamer, a paint throwing screamer and one who's "poop is coming out"  and a extremely young sales associate asks  "Hi, can I help you find something?'

Yes, yes you can ,I need about 10 more pounds of patience and you might need to get a mop because we just spilled milk all over the floor....and my boy taking a dump next to the milk puddle....Sorry.....smile.

As we are running to the bathroom Bitsy's tantrum has continued to escalate to the point where she starts to slap at her own face so I need to restrain her hands.  We make it to the bathroom before the poop comes out but now we are in a strange bathroom and the little prairie dog has gone back into the burrow, ugh.  It is really echoey in the bathroom and Bits has now switched from a wailing cry to just a wahhhh, wahhhh, wahhh cry of rage.  Jack decides that sounds pretty cool in the bathroom so he joins in. 

Cardo man finally does his business but now Jack-Jack is trying to stand up in the cart and fall to the floor.  So I end up with Jack-Jack over one arm and balancing cardo over one knee while I wipe his hiney with the other hand.  (note: at home he can wipe his own hiney but this public toilet was just too far off the ground and the seat was too wide for him to do it without touching the toilet seat to prevent falling in, and I have a problem with little hands on public toilets seats, so I did the wiping, don't judge....there are germs!) Bitsy, still yelling.  While am washing my hands I see Cardo in the mirror going to stand on the edge of the cart, AGAIN!  I seriously told him about a gazillion times not to.  I whip out my super ninja moves as the cart starts to go over, and catch the basket of toppling babies.  This scares Jack-Jack and he is once again crying, and I am getting there myself.

We come out of the bathroom and it appears they have assigned the young sales associate to follow the crazy guy with the yelling kids through the store.  This just firmed my resolve to finish this shopping trip no matter what.

15 minutes later with kids still yelling we head to the register to check out, you know the only register open with the brand new cashier who can't figure out how to ring the coupon and then calls the manager who is on break so you get to know your line neighbors, yeah that register. 

 My kids have been yelling for about 20 minutes in this store, still are yelling, and the people in line are thinking "Just get out of here!"  The group of three elderly asian ladys behind me are shaking their heads and pointing fingers, there faces are pity, dissapointment, and angry accusing shame.....stop looking at me!

The general consensus of the store staff and shoppers is clearly this guy is not qualified.

That's when its my turn to pay, the cashier asks are you a member of our rewards program?  No, I am not.  She gives me the little talk, I say OK, sign me up (you do get a coupon for $5 off).

She asks something else, Bitys is still yelling so  I say sorry what?  Oh, email address.

Now she can't hear me and says sorry would you repeat that I didn't catch that email...

So I stand there with milk spilled down the front of me, breaking a stress sweat from the screaming and the rest of the line just wanting me to go away.  I pause, look at her and then all the customers behind me watching my little struggle; and in a very loud,  but very calm voice I say;

"Its  CAPABLE......FATHER......AT.....G......MAIL DOT COM."

Cashier, raised eyebrow.

Me, "well, most days anyway." 

And collect my $5 coupon.