more than laundry

Two weeks ago, I was flat on my back with mastitis. I put Beckham down for his afternoon nap and told John I was feeling funny so I was going to lay down. Within 10 minutes, I was aching all over, had a horrible headache, had chills, and a fever. For the rest of the day, John took care of Beckham and just brought him to me to nurse. Thankfully I got some antibiotics called in and had taken my first dose by Sunday night. I figured I'd wake up a new woman, just in time for John to go back to work. How wrong I was...

Beckham was fussy that morning after waking up and all he needed was to be walked outside (that's our magic trick, btw). I could barely move, much less take a walk around the block. The alternative, however, was listening to my baby cry continuously with my pounding headache, so I chose to walk. I kept wondering if I should call my mom and ask her to come help, but kept deciding against it, thinking the antibiotics would kick in soon. I didn't have to deliberate much longer before my mom called me. Within the hour, she was in the car and heading my way.

No one takes care of me like my mom.

I'm not sure how I would have done it. Not only did my mom take care of me, but also of Beckham. She did my laundry, went grocery shopping, cooked the meals, and stayed an extra day to make sure I was completely well. I was so thankful.

A few days ago I had left Beckham in the living room while i was doing laundry. It wasn't long before I heard him crying, wanting to be near me, wanting to be held. After a good bit of protesting, I decided I better go and get him. I scooped him up and brought him to the garage. The only place to put him was the laundry basket. You would have thought, however, that the laundry basket was full of candy, because he couldn't have been happier...picking up dirty socks and watching me do the laundry.

As I was looking at him, with leftover tears in his eyes, I thought to myself, "Sometimes doing laundry with mom is just what you need." As soon as the thought crossed my mind, I started recalling the many "laundry room chats" that I had with my mom growing up. I'd usually pass by or stop in as if by "accident". I'd ask for some advice, share something that was on my mind, or just talk about random things. And in the midst of cleaning clothes, a relationship was built.

To this day, I love doing laundry. It is both refreshing and methodical, old and new. It can even provide the great atmosphere to build relationship. one sock at a time.