My children are allergic to putting their dirty clothes in the dirty clothes hamper.

They have to be.

It must cause them great pain and agony to place a dirty sock or shirt into the appropriate basket.

Even if the appropriate basket is close enough for them to touch, even if the basket is closer than the floor, they will still, the majority of the time, drop their clothes on the floor beside the laundry basket. 

The clothes then sit there, nuzzling the basket, leaning against the basket, getting cozy with the basket, mere inches from the basket, but not in the basket.

Not in the basket until yours truly picks them up and puts them there.

I don’t understand. I suppose I should be grateful that the clothes have actually made it to the laundry room. Most of the time their clothes sit in apparent designated spots in their rooms:

-12-year-old: Little pile behind the bathroom door
-9-year-old: Little pile at the foot of the bunk bed

-Twins: Everywhere. Just everywhere. They must be in motion when they discard clothes because they leave a trail versus a pile. If Hansel and Gretel had left a trail of socks and shoes, they would have certainly found their way back home.

So, perhaps I should rejoice when the dirty clothes have made it down stairs and into the laundry room.

Granted, I feel I must say that this isn’t a magical moment. I have to ask and remind and ask and sometimes threaten to get them there. 

“Please bring your clothes down, I’m washing dark dirties”

“Did you bring your dirties down?”

“I want to start the laundry, bring your dirty clothes down” 

I might see a child walk by and ask specifically, while making eye contact, “Do I have your dirty clothes?”

“Seriously, you will not get to (go to a friends house, watch a show, have dessert, etc) if you don’t bring your dirty clothes down!”

This could span over an hour’s time. My children have the gift of distraction on their side.

As I am asking for their laundry, I am also dealing with:

Twins. Spills. Breakfast. Spills. Dishes. Spills. Twins. Potty training. Spills. Is that water? (you get the picture).

Finally, after my reserves are empty and I am walking back to the laundry room after cleaning up the third milk spill of the day, I just start the load. I know that I will be doing this all over again in a day or two.

And do not even get me started on my husband’s laundry habits.