"MOM! You didn't spray the spaghetti stain on my shirt and now you RUINED it!"
So says my 11 year old daughter after I spent the entire night washing, drying, laying out the shirts she doesn't want dried, and hanging her laundry. Apparently in all of the making sure her soccer uniform made it to the wash, perusing her room to find dirty clothes that somehow got lost on their way to the dirty clothes basket, and "right-side outing" (pretty much) EVERY skirt, shirt, pair of jeans and socks I missed looking for stains on her (now right-side out) clothes. What can I say? She caught me. I am the world's worst mother.
I try to look for stains on my 3-year old's clothes before they go in the wash (emphasis on TRY.) I try to catch stains on clothes before they go into the dryer. I remind my kids when I SEE them spill something to make sure they stain spray before putting said clothes in the dirty clothes basket (or on the floor of their rooms which is a more popular option.) But somehow, somewhere I missed a spaghetti sauce spot. I'm not really sure how because it's not like I have anything at all else to do, but it happened.
I know that she is probably devastated because it is one of her favorite shirts (from Old Navy - with a cute panda bear. Watch for it at Watch Me Grow soon since she grows so fast her clothes only fit her for like 2 weeks - IF I am able to get the stain out, of course.) And it's probably also very hard on her because she bought it with her very own hard earned money. Oh wait. No. No, that was me. Alas, these are the trials of an extremely messy almost 12 year old girl. Especially one with an obviously inadequate mother.
She has always been particularly hard on her clothes. I had these funny assumptions that by this age she would care a little bit more about her appearance and be able to keep her clothes in a little bit better condition, but as usual I was very, very wrong. Let's just say that very few of her clothes are in consignable condition. Very. Few. If you have never met a 6th grade girl who despite owning more jeans than I do, still manages to put holes in all of her knees, let me know. I will introduce you.
Alas, I digress. Suffice it to say that while going through (tons of great) clothes that came in to be consigned today, it hit me. Call it inspiration. Call it a seriously wandering mind, but I have decided to stick Shout wipes in her backpack. And maybe in the pockets of all of her jeans. And maybe have a decorative bowl of them in the middle of the kitchen table. OK, probably not that, but definitely in her backpack. It's called shifting the burden of responsibility. Welcome to the world of worrying about your own stains, girlie. Hope you enjoy it.
I'll keep you posted on how well it works out for us, in the meantime, only my 3 year old is allowed to criticize my laundry abilities. And he'd be happy to wear his Cars pajamas every day.
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