I know I am not the first wife to raise this question… but I just want the answer to be made clear! Where in the world do the socks go? For as long as I have been doing laundry there has always been a basket of socks missing their match. Do they run away from home? Are they being flushed down the toilet? Do they go to underground sock parties and never return? Are they being eaten by the washer? Do they mutate themselves into the countless T’shirts I can’t seem to remember buying? Does the dryer suck them into a giant black whole that leads to the Twilight Zone? Or are they building up a secret sock army preparing to take over the world? I really think its time we solve this mystery…
One of the many things in our home that has been affected by adding 4 children is the size of the homeless sock basket. I forever have a pile of socks that have lost their partner and it drives me absolutely insane. It doesn’t help that Blondie is determined to wear socks that do not match. This absolutely kills me because I am so anal about socks that not only do I manage to match them up, I try to find the “right and left” ones… seriously. I buy big packages of socks that all look the same, and then when I fold them, I try to judge by the stains on the bottom or the way they are stretched just how they were originally put together. In fact, when Blondie was little I catered to her aversion to sock seems, and bought her special socks that didn’t have those annoying “lines” in them… and now, she won’t repay me by simply wearing socks that match, socks that I spent hours folding together.
Santa’s sleigh delivered lots of new socks this year, so today, I am going to do what I have threatened to do for several months- I am THROWING AWAY the homeless socks. I will ring in the new year with an empty sock basket… ahhhh, the joy is always in the little things!
Along with freeing myself of the sock basket, today I am “undecking the halls”… So, in order to accomplish this monumental task, I decided to take the little ones to daycare this morning. See, we are desperately in need of an Extreme Home Makeover, but for some reason Ty Pennington refuses to return any of my calls despite the fact that I often stalk him on Twitter. We are what I like to call “square footage challenged.” Our house has slightly less than 1,500 square feet, and not one good closet in the whole thing! Big projects just don’t go over well with so many little people under foot, which makes me extremely grateful for daycare. I have to unhang the stockings, unstring the tinsel, undecorate the tree, and undo all of the other little things I did to spread the Christmas spirit around our humble home… I’m sure I will spend my entire day wrapping things in bubble wrap and packing them away. But it would be impossible to accomplish if I were steadily passing out fruit snacks and managing the play-doh box.
The daycare has a strict rule that you have to drop off by 9am. Since I already pushed my luck once this week, rolling in at 9:06, I figured I had better be early today. So I got the little ones up at 8 and started the “getting dressed” routine. Finally, by 8:52 we were ready to head out the door. No time for moving car seats around, I decided to leave my beloved out-of-gas-anyway Yukon sitting in the driveway and opted instead to drive the big ugly van. And guess what?
Yep, it wouldn’t start! Again! (Someone, under the age of 6, must be turning on lights in there or something!) 8:54, time is running out, so I load the little ones into Old Whitey. Now, Old Whitey is a Chevy z-71 4×4 that has seen better days. For some reason, my husband had to have this truck. It belonged to a good friend of ours for many years, and when he decided it was time to park Old Whitey, my husband decided come hell or high water he would end up with that old beast. Then a series of horse trades (something my husband is famous for around these parts) left him without a truck, and sure enough, Old Whitey came to live here. Of course this year he’s required a new dash, a transmission rebuild, a starter, and a new motor, so suffice it to say I don’t love Old Whitey as much as the hubby does! I see Old Whitey as the money pit, but for my hubby and the 5 boys who live in this house, it’s all about the rumble that old truck still puts out!
I don’t know how many times I’ve had to hear the story about how last year, during an ice storm, there was a big van stuck in a ditch, and an even bigger Dodge Ram 3500 was trying and trying to pull it out. The driver of the Dodge laughed off my husbands offer to help, and an hour later, when he saw them still stranded, he offered again. This time, Old Whitey got the last laugh and he easily pulled the van out of the ditch. For my hubby, that makes Old Whitey worth his weight in gold… So with less than 6 minutes to spare, I cranked Old Whitey and headed towards the daycare. It didn’t take long for me to realize Old Whitey’s next expenditure shall be a new set of break shoes… However, we managed to pull in at 8:58! Happy faces all the way there because we were riding in style (boy style) in the rumbly old 4×4. The daycare ladies laughed, assuming I still hadn’t found my keys (yesterday’s crisis- my 12 year old son left town with my car keys in his pocket, a fact I discovered 5 minutes before I needed to pick up the kiddos). But no, I am interesting enough to have a brand new emergency every single day! Even with all the chaos of the morning, we made it! By the hair on my head, that’s how I roll! Now, off I go to undeck these halls before that daycare closes!