I Need a Laundry Fairy

I’d like to preface this blog with the fact that yes, my mother taught me better than this but yes, I fail miserably in this area. Please don’t judge her.  Yes, you can judge me but confession is good for the soul.

A couple of years ago I wrote a blog about how coaches should come with warning labels. One label I forgot is probably one of the most important. Coaches come with laundry. A LOT OF LAUNDRY. OH MY GOODNESS THE AMOUNT OF LAUNDRY!!!! We are going into my coach’s twentieth season and each year I’m still amazed that the laundry at my house is NEVER done.  Just when I think I’ve got it all done and the laundry hamper is empty, in he walks with his bag and another load of laundry. Thanks to the crazy practice and school schedule my coach changes clothes at least four times a day.  Sometimes there’s a fifth change if we are going out to dinner or to a school function. 

It’s insane the amount of laundry that he generates on a daily/weekly basis. The worst of it is how much I HATE doing laundry.  I’ve never been a fan of the task and my loathing seem to grow every football season. You can ask my mother.  Growing up, I’d rather clean the bathroom than help with the laundry. Same holds true today. I don’t know what it is about it, but I just don’t like it.  Last year we had to buy a new washer and dryer so I made sure I had a bigger one thinking I’d get it done faster. Well, the laundry gods were not in my favor.  It may be bigger but somehow the words energy efficient makes it ten times slower. So the agony has increased and the amount of time doing it has doubled or tripled.

There’s not a part of laundry I like. I hate to sort it. I hate to wash it. Putting it in the dryer is a pain. Folding it seems to take forever. Then there’s the putting it away.  That’s where it’s the worst!  At our house we have a bad habit of folding it and then just leaving it on the guest bed.  It seems the guest bed has become our other closet.  On more than one occasion when we’ve had surprise overnight guests, we’ve been known to take the piles and put them back in the laundry basket and then stash the basket as the guests are walking in the door.

For a while I tried to convince myself that doing laundry on Saturdays while watching college football was the way to take my mind of the tediousness of the job.  However, I found that if my team was in a tight game I’d forget what I was doing and get consumed by the game. I also found that if my team was doing poorly my clothes weren’t treated as well as they could be and that I was most likely adding wrinkles by twisting the shirt in my hands rather than properly folding it. So much for that idea.

Many girls dream of a fairy godmother. I dream of a laundry fairy. I need someone or something to come and wave her magic wand and sort, wash, dry, fold and put away my laundry.  I don’t think I’m asking much.  Just once in my life I’d like to go more than an hour without any clothes in the laundry hamper.

Cheering you on,
Laurel 

I’m not a Widow

Now that football season is here a lot of people I talk to like to refer to me as a “football widow”. They make remarks like “Oh, you husband is in season so now you’re a widow again.” Or “So, how’s it being a football widow again this time of year?”

I’ve really come to hate that term.  I’m not a widow.  I’m still married.  He didn’t die.  He’s just busy.  He’s obviously at the school and the field house more than he’s home, but that still doesn’t make him dead and it still doesn’t make me a widow.  When your husband actually dies and leaves this earth and you the wife are left behind then you are a widow.  Your husband doesn’t choose die. It just happens.  My husband chooses to be a football coach and he chooses to go to work.  There’s a big difference there.

Yes, it’s a crazy time for the next four – hopefully five- months but he’s still alive.  He’s choosing to coach. He’s choosing to do a job that he loves and has a passion doing.  He chooses to invest in the lives of the young men he’s coaching.  He’s choosing to teach them not only the game of football but about everyday life. He’s choosing to show them what it means to be a man of God. He’s choosing to show them how Christ has made a difference in his life. He’s choosing to show them how to be a good husband and what it looks like to love his wife.  He’s very much alive and I’m still not a widow.

I understand that while he’s very much alive at the field house that means that there are things at home that I’m going to have to deal with alone.   Yes, I know that something major is going to break and I’m going to have to deal with it.  This year that something has already broken and I’m dealing with it and we’re just out of two a days. I understand that I may have to go to work, family or church functions without him. I understand that weekends are spent without him and that things like date nights become virtually non-existent.  Even with all of that, we’re still married.  I may not see him much, but I still see him. He’s still physically in this world.  I do get to hear him laugh, see his smile and watch him fulfill his passion on that football field every Friday night.  He’s not gone forever. He’s just busy.

So for those of you who like to refer to me as a “football widow” – please don’t.  I’m still happily married.  He may not always be with me when I’m out and about but he’s still alive and a part of my life. Our married life may look different than yours but it works for us. My coach is fulfilling God’s call in his life and I’m cheering him on for listening and obeying that call.

Cheering you on,
Laurel