Where Is the Suitcase?
We were out of town for two days, and I forgot to post my blog before I left. My apologies to my very few readers! I am technologically incompetent and couldn’t figure out how to post from the road.
When we got back into town, we lugged our various suitcases upstairs. After the first day, Dylan’s suitcase had become a hamper, and was stuffed to the brim with dirty laundry.
Without asking me, Dylan lugged his suitcase upstairs. It was heavy, and it’s the only one we took that didn’t have wheels. So it wasn’t an easy job getting it up the stairs. Then he opened it up, discovered that it was full of clothes, and immediately began sorting the mess. He made piles for each member of the family, folded the clothes neatly and then called us in to get our piles.
I had no idea he’d done any of this.
I was in the laundry room, and wanted to locate the laundry-filled suitcase, so that I could start sorting by color (not by family member).
Meanwhile, Shane picked up his pile and brought it to me.
“Why do you have a pile of dirty laundry?” I asked him. “Where’s the suitcase?”
“I don’t know,” he said.
“Well I don’t want you to throw the laundry on the floor. Go find the suitcase!”
Shane dutifully wandered away. Then my husband, Bill, came in with his pile – and we played through the whole scenario again.
“I don’t want piles of laundry on the floor! I want the suitcase! Where is the suitcase?”
No one bothered to tell me that Dylan had sorted the laundry. They just kept wandering out with their armloads of dirty laundry. Then Bill and I got into a big fight over my insistence on having the suitcase filled – which, he later confessed, was his way of “protecting” Dylan from the Wrath of Me.
When I was crawling into bed, exhausted and angry over the whole thing, Bill finally told me what Dylan had done. So I went into Dylan’s room.
“Daddy told me that you sorted through all the clothes,” I said. “That was so nice of you.”
“It took me like seven minutes,” he said.
“I’m really sorry I yelled,” I said. “I had no idea that you’d done that.” I patted his back, because he didn’t seem to want an apologetic hug.
I went to bed feeling guiltier than ever about my stupid control issues. Really? I couldn’t just take the piles of laundry and sort them later? Why did I have to have that suitcase packed with laundry?
And now it’s the next day, and I feel even dumber than the day before. Luckily, in addition to my church-course-related book – for which I am still waiting – I got an email from Free Range Kids author Lenore Skenazy, one of my heroes and the queen of letting go.
The email said that she’s got a new TV show coming out: “World’s Worst Mom.” I am going to love it.
Maybe they’ll even let me be the star.