My kid's socks don't always match.
I grew up with one of those mothers that would be more inclined to stay home for the day, than to let her children leave the house with mismatched socks. At 35 years old, I am still confused by the depth of this seemingly simple matter. Yet I find myself thinking about it every time I am folding the little's laundry. Since becoming a single father, obviously my role has changed and my gratitude for the little things has along with it. Whilst tackling the despised task of threaded maintenance, my goal is to make the "problem" go away as quickly as possible. Get it done, get it folded, put it away. Repeat. Having a 3 year old that changes ever 45 minutes and a 6 year old that throws 4 pairs of pants on the floor to find the right one. I constantly find myself not really knowing what's actually dirty. It all ends up in the hamper and I start over again. But the matter of the socks always becomes my true nemesis. If not for my ...