Through the stages of motherhood, there are so many changes we must adjust and adapt in the care of our children. From caring for their every need to sending them off to college or beyond, each stage has its challenges and rewards.
As this dynamic process creates itself and morphs to fit the current stage of life, there are a few things that remain constant. The constants are questions like “Mom, where is my (fill in the blank)”, or “Mom, what’s for dinner” and then there’s, laundry.
From the beginning to the ending of our motherly existence, our constant companion is laundry. With three active children, our laundry room stayed as active as our kids and worked hard cleaning and deodorizing play clothes, school clothes, uniforms and the occasional dress-up items.
We were blessed by hand-me-downs from dear friends and family as we too tried to bless others with the overflow of outgrown garments. The most care was taken for sports uniforms — wash cold, no bleach, air dry — we all know the drill.
Each year I’d line up three uniforms for most every season and sport without giving it too much thought. I was too busy to realize at the time that the extra duties and demands the extra laundry brought would soon be gone as three uniforms turned into two and now only one.
As each child left home, so did their laundry. Somewhere in the packing and moving, I found the laundry room a quiet place, oblivious to the population decline in our home. Where I once had three or four loads or more daily to wash, dry, fold and readied for wear, I now might have one or two a week.
I missed the chore because the mounds of clothes meant everyone was home. This week our middle child found his way home from the Naval Academy. It’s his first visit home since Christmas and just like Christmas he came bearing gifts — laundry.
When he gave me his sweat-stained uniform and clothes, I had to pause a moment to take in the significance. His hard work and effort to train in the protection of our country was embedded in those fibers. Each thread was woven and sewn to the standards of millions of other miliary uniforms, but this one covered our child — it was special.
That load of laundry didn’t seem like a chore; it was an honor that I will treasure. He and those who raise their hand and swear under oath to protect and defend our nation are owned a special gratitude, because they volunteer when they aren’t required.
They’re held to a standard beyond what society requires. That extra burden is marked in the wearing of the uniform, and they see it as a privilege.
He mentioned that his visits home will likely become fewer and farther between since his duties will require him to travel beyond our borders when he isn’t studying and training in Annapolis.
His laundry will be done by a stranger, someone who doesn’t know anything about him and probably won’t take the time to connect the dots of duty, work, sweat and blood that his uniform will wear as proof of his commitment because, it’s just laundry for them.
Soon, he will leave and take his laundry with him. Our laundry room will return to churning out clean uniforms for our last child in her senior year of high school. That is the normal progression of the responsibilities of motherhood — keeping the normal function of a home running until the duties are mothballed and dormant waiting for the next visit.
At that time what once was a chore, becomes a treasure.
God bless our children and God bless our troops and all the laundry they both create.
Rhonda Baisden lives in Kenai and is blessed with three incredible children and a remarkable husband.
