How To Discourage Your Partner From Doing Laundry

Although we went to Cyprus with only hand luggage, we still somehow came home to a shockingly high Mt. Laundry.

Even Mike was taken aback when he saw the pile of clothing. And that's saying something. Mike is great at helping out around the house, he is a pretty good washer-upper, a super-duper vacuumer, and, most importantly, a fantastically hands-on dad.

But so far in our 11.5 years of marital bliss, Mt. Laundry has been my personal peak to climb. A solo conquest. For him to have even noticed the laundry speaks volumes about the sheer size of it.

And so it was that yesterday morning, as I was trying to catch up on an endless number of work messages that had accumulated while I was holidaying 'sans Internet', Mike set about teaching himself the art of sorting clothing and operating the washing machine.

Bright and insightful people would no doubt have encouraged this behaviour, perhaps even been thankful. Apparently, I am none of these.

First, I complained when he came to ask me how the washing machine worked, because I was chest-deep in panic emails from people who evidently cannot function without a Scandinavian translator on hand at all times.

Then he was told that he'd sorted the clothing wrong. In my defense, I was really thinking of the boys when I redid the sorting. I would have looked fine in the resulting pinkish hues.

But I digress.

After thinking about it for a while (not lightning fast, this one), I did apologize for being cranky and went back to my work mess.

I wish the story ended there. But nope, there's more.

I am ashamed to admit I also proceeded to correct the way he was hanging up clothing (that's right, we have no dryers in Norway) and the way he was packing the new load in the washing machine too tightly.

My pièce de résistance was this morning, when I criticized the way he was folding the dry clothes and putting them on dusty surfaces in the laundry room.

No wonder Mike finally had enough and told me so. In hindsight, I can't believe he even lasted as long as he did.

So now I am eating humble pie, while Mike will soon be enjoying lots and lots of chocolate bought by yours truly.

My name is Heidi. I'm a control freak.

Boys' clothing

I'm the first to admit that I am not a great shopper. My ideal shopping experience is walking into a store and finding exactly what I am looking for "right there" in front of me, on that very first rack. Right size and everything. Then I like to carry it over to the cashier who is a) at her station and b) ready to serve me. I know, I am bad, bad, bad. Shopping can bring out the worst in me. Especially when I am shopping for boys' clothing in a girls' clothing world.

A few years ago I walked into a well-known children's clothing store one fall afternoon, looking for a snow suit for Christopher, then a toddler. I had been lured in by the snazzy looking outfits modelled in the front store window - fashionable little tots with the ultimate in cool winter gear. As I entered the store, I was instantly dismayed that all I could see was girly pink and frilly clothing. Not a good look on my little man.

I turned around to look for someone who could point me in the right direction and immediately saw a cute teenage girl with a big smile on her face, tiptoeing her way over to greet me. As I inquired into boys' winter wear, she happily danced over to show me a tiny section of boys clothes, albeit with some admittedly good-looking coats and jackets. When she realized I was browsing through the rack looking for two piece suits, she sang out "We're not carrying snow pants for boys this winter." Still with that big smile on her face. Riiiiight...no problem, I'll just tell my 3-year-old to avoid the snow, then, this year...?!

Nowadays, my biggest headache is Christopher's opinions about the clothes he wants to wear. Being "cool" has become much more important, and our definitions of "cool" rarely match. I'll bring something home that I am sure he'll love, and it'll be a dud for some obscure reason. He has developed a passion for two or three shirts, and unless I catch him, he'll wear them over and over and over again. Apparently there is no conflict between "cool" and "filthy".

He also has a very interesting way of getting dressed in the morning that is slowly driving me over the edge. He will get up in the morning and put on the clothes he wore the day before, which are in a pile on the floor next to his bed (can you sense my blood pressure rising...why are those clothes there in the first place? Should they not be in the hamper??). Only then will he go and have breakfast. After breakfast, he will go back to his room, take the dirty clothes off and dress himself again with new clean clothes, trying first to pass the old, filthy but "cool" shirt off as clean. After getting caught, he will also change his shirt. Now, bear in mind, this all gets done with the speed of a sloth....slooooowwwwlllyyyy, and only because I am prompting him every step of the way. I tell you, my patience gets a workout every morning.

I have suggested what I thought were rather obvious alternatives to the current situation - that he either a) has breakfast in his PJ's and then puts on clean clothes, or b) gets dressed right away in clean clothes. No change so far. Sometimes I just don't get it!

Benjamin, meanwhile, cares nothing about what he wears. A few months ago, he would have happily walked around in his PJ's or underwear all day. That's now past, and he likes to be dressed, but is fine with whatever is at the top of the pile. The thing about him, though, that never ceases to puzzle me is how he always manages to put his clothing on backwards. I mean, he clearly has a 50/50 shot at getting it right. With his bad luck, I just hope he never makes it to Vegas.