There’s a Giant Stormtrooper Glaring at My Laundry
The other day I walked into my kitchen to find a giant stormtrooper toy regarding my laundry.
It’s clean laundry. And it’s only one of four baskets of clean laundry waiting to be folded and put away.
I may or may not have said, “Don’t you judge me, stormtrooper.”
And I may or may not have said, “This is not the laundry you’re looking for.”
I definitely texted this picture to my friend Alexis. Poor Alexis. Always the recipient of my strangest pictures.
Well, that stormtrooper is still regarding and the laundry is still living in the basket and I am still finding socks for my kids to wear within one of the four baskets in the moments before packing everyone up to go to school.
It’s kind of normal around here.
Well, not the stormtrooper. He’s just here for a couple weeks before I send him off to live with one of my nephews.
But the laundry and the dinners on paper plates and the mystery splotch on the floor…they’re kind of normal.
Please, please tell me you have the same kind of normal. At least part of the time.
A few weeks ago, I was at my friend Karee’s house (remember her? She’s the one who warms up her mugs). We were talking about what’s normal as far as houses go. I realized that, really, I’m in good company.
We’re approaching a crazy, whack-a-mole time of year. We have parties to go to, we’ve got kids who are days away from Winter Break. We have last minute presents to buy and things to wrap. Traveling and cooking and baking and frosting and…
…and…
…we’ve got all the rest of our stuff to keep up with too.
Hey, how about we take a breather. Decide to give ourselves a little grace, a little break. Buy some paper plates. Bring home a couple frozen pizzas. Let that mystery spot stick around for awhile…it’s not hurting anything…maybe. If you need to, crawl under the Christmas tree and look up at the lights for a few minutes. Dance to Jingle Bell Rock with a couple kids (seriously, it relieves a good amount of stress). Eat a cookie without giving a second thought to the calories/fat/sugar/GMOs.
LOG OUT OF PINTEREST. Really. That place only makes me feel like a slacker. And it also makes me feel super hungry. Like, crazy hungry. But only for fancy food.
This is the time of year when we have one of two choices. One: We can choose chaos and get lost in running from thing to thing, resenting all we have to do. Two: We can choose wondered and get lost in all the beauty this time of year represents (ie, redemption, generosity, compassion, mercy, joy, laughter, salvation).
Which am I going to pick? I think I’ll go with option two.
And, in light of that, I’m going to pretend that my stormtrooper friend is merely guarding my laundry, not judging my lazy housekeeping skills.
susiefinkbeiner.com 
Sounds exactly like our house. Laundry baskets galore filled with clean clothes. We probably have a storm trooper or two around here, too. Merry Christmas to you and yours. 🙂
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I’m glad to be in good company, Krista! Merry Christmas back to you. I hope it’s wonderful.
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I routinely have a pile of clean and a pile of kinda dirty laundry.
Then again, I rent a room and have it decorated more like a teenager than a….much older person.
I have no excuses.
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Ha ha ha! You crack me up, Sarah. And you aren’t a “much older person”. Just slightly older. 😉
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I love the line: “This is not the laundry you’re looking for.” You’re too cool!
That’s going to keep me chuckling for a long time!
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Happy to provide a chuckle, Peter! 🙂
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I’m sending this to my daughter who can relate to this on a daily basis. A four-year-old and 18-month twins make a lot of laundry, not to mention their mom and dad! This is life. The dishes don’t all fit in the dishwasher. Who cares if the beds are made? Who goes upstairs anyway? The mudroom is the place for all of the shoes owned by every member of the family, even it they are outgrown. Susie, I won’t even go into my own life. I’ve spent the majority of the past 2 weeks at my daughter’s house with a sick daughter and 3 sick kids. As long as the laundry is clean, who cares if it’s wrinkled and the kids’ socks don’t match? Merry Christmas, sweet friend!
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