6 a.m. Saturday morning
I yawned as I dumped a bag of stinky, wet baby clothes into my washer. The smells coming out of that bag could be used as a weapon! And it was only a few days’ worth of clothes.
My morning began early–not by choice but because my poor little guy was sick. His crying was followed by vomiting and diarrhea as he lost everything he ate the day before…all over himself and me. After we cleaned him and changed his outfit, he lasted about another half hour before he vomited again. Then, he made it almost 45 minutes before it happened again. Thankfully, that was the last time!
While changing my p.j.’s yet again, it occurred to me how blessed I am to have a clothes washer. It’s old, ugly and doesn’t match my dryer, but think of all the laundry I’d be doing by hand if I didn’t have it! This morning alone, I thought, Eli made at least two loads. That would take me hours to do by hand, but instead I get to dump it in a washer and let the machine wash the nasty away.
A few days after Eli was born, I wasn’t quite so fortunate. We had just moved into our new house but had left our washer and dryer behind as part of the sales agreement for our old house. So, there I was — one-week-old baby producing laundry like he was born for that job…and no washer in sight. Hubby thought he remembered seeing a washer in the storage container outside his dad’s shop, so we dug it out and plugged it in. It was dirty and scratched, but it worked!
We’re still using that machine and it’s still hanging in there, thanks to hubby’s fix-it job when it stopped agitating over the winter. As much as I dislike doing laundry, how much worse would it be if I had to do it little-house-on-the-prairie style?!