(I’m listening to Pearl Jam’s “Off He Goes” from their “Live On Two Legs” album)

I’m ridin’ solo again tonight.  The wife has another business meeting.  Before you think, “Wow!  That’s two out of the last four nights he’s been home alone with the kids,” it’s really not a big deal.  This doesn’t happen that much, and I really don’t mind.  Besides, the wife and I are a team.  The wife works hard, and I appreciate that, a lot.  If that means I get a couple of  bedtimes here and there with both kids on my lap, reading books, well that’s just fine by me.  After the wife left for the evening, Littles and I ordered Chinese food. When the delivery person knocked at the door, Littles yelled, “Chineeeeeeeeese!”  It was hilarious.  Tiny even had some too.  She liked the noodles.  Dad throws a great party.

What’s not a party is laundry.  I do quite a few chores around the house, but my specialties are dishes and laundry.  I really don’t like doing laundry, but hey, if the chores are done, I have a better excuse to spend some time with Mr. Jones (that’s what I call my snowboard). Yep, now that song is in my head.  “Mister Jooooooones and me!”

Back to laundry.  With two little kids in the house, laundry is kind of a non-stop exercise in futility.  I’m never done with laundry.  Now, I don’t mind putting it in the machine, switching it over from the washer to the dryer, and stuff like that.  What kills me is the folding.  The kids’ laundry is so small!  You know that scene in “Stand By Me” where Gordie says, “Wagon Train is a really cool show, but have you ever noticed they don’t really get anywhere?  They just keep on wagon-training?”  That’s me folding kids clothes.  I feel like I never get anywhere.  The basket just never seems to empty.  I just keep folding, folding, folding, WHAT?  Yep, I just sang Limp Bizkit to myself.

Back to laundry.  I always love it, LOVE IT, when I’m folding the kids’ clothes, and there’s like a grown up sized towel hiding in the basket.  “Yeah, now we’re cooking with gas!  A good quarter of the pile just disappeared!”  Tonight, the wife’s bathrobe was buried in kids clothes.  It was awesome!  I pulled that sucker out, folded it, and thought to myself, “This must be what a marathon runner feels like at the 13.1 mile mark!   Then I proceeded to fold 3,000 pairs of Littles’ underwear.

Don’t get me wrong, I enjoy pitching in.  You don’t want me cooking dinner, unless we’re having cereal or toast.  In fact, you really don’t want me near a kitchen, but, I can do dishes and laundry with the best of them.  I stick to my strengths, they’re pretty darn good, and I think the wife would agree.  Alright, it’s time to go.  There’s laundry somewhere in this house that needs to be done.