I went to load my washing machine today.
As usual, I was sporting way more laundry than could possibly fit in the machine at once, and trying to find that perfect balance of filling it JUST enough to avoid any additional loads, while not causing the machine to freak out.
It occurred to me how similar parenting is to doing in the laundry.
The mental load of watching the laundry pile up before your eyes is like the mental load of motherhood. The feeling of bliss when you have both machines running and there is nothing you need to do, it feels like the rare moments we have after school drop off or when the kids fall asleep and we can just melt into a chair and feel the pressure soften.
The weight of anxiety that drums when the dryer buzzes and you know it’s go-time (Or leave it in there for a couple of days but still hold onto that weight knowing it’s there.
Like when you hear your child calling to you, or the school calls in the middle of the day, or you get a text from the babysitter.
Mindful parenting feels a lot like folding laundry.
You put the human touch on each and every item in that basket, then gently tucking each item into our child’s dressers, sending love and compassion to your children through the fruits of your daily labor.
And just when you feel amazing about getting it all done, you look in the laundry basket it’s like nothing had changed at all. Another full load of laundry awaits.
It’s continuous, it’s draining, and it’s heavy, but we still put our hearts and souls into it anyway. Because we must.
And because it’s worth it.
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