White socks. Or at least what used to be white socks have become my Achilles’ heel.
No matter the strength of my will power or the potency of my bleach, I can’t seem to get my boys’ socks to look like they’ve ever met water!
It’s no help that Rylan doesn’t like to wear shoes, but he LOVES to wear socks. Or that Matt’s work boots leave permanent orange badges over the body of his socks. Or that Masen likes to de-sock himself and chew on his teeny foot clothing. (Don’t ask me why dried drool is gray.)
I pride myself on stain removal. I brag and brag about my ability to remove unwanted stains from clothes. So every time I wash socks I cry and whine.
Usually I meet stains head-on with all the weapons in my arsenal ready to attack. But so far these socks have taken all my hot-water soaks, baking soda blasts, bleach washing, hanging in the sunshine in stride.
Every time Rylan races to his Sunday school class with Ms. Marcy and throws off his shoes, I worry.
Do people think I never scrub my floors? Or that I don’t make Rylan change his socks?
Matt asked me the other day as I lamented about the state of my family’s socks, “Why don’t you just buy dark socks?”
And I fired back, “Have we ever met?”
See, I’m one of those typical “Type A” personalities who likes control and win a little too much. I’ve told you about my schedules and anxieties about things that shouldn’t matter that much. But they do.
It’s pathetic, I know. It’s a problem, I know.
But, NO, I’m not going to give in to the gray-sock bully. I’m going to keep right on Googling my problem, seeking the advice of those who’ve gone before me and praying for a solution.
God decided that half of my family of six would be boys. And it seems boys play in a whole other laundry ball game. Their dirts a little dirtier, their grass stains are a little deeper and the magnitude of their grime is more wide-spread. And I’m still learning the ropes.
I love my boys. But I’m not real fond of their socks.
No matter the strength of my will power or the potency of my bleach, I can’t seem to get my boys’ socks to look like they’ve ever met water!
It’s no help that Rylan doesn’t like to wear shoes, but he LOVES to wear socks. Or that Matt’s work boots leave permanent orange badges over the body of his socks. Or that Masen likes to de-sock himself and chew on his teeny foot clothing. (Don’t ask me why dried drool is gray.)
I pride myself on stain removal. I brag and brag about my ability to remove unwanted stains from clothes. So every time I wash socks I cry and whine.
Usually I meet stains head-on with all the weapons in my arsenal ready to attack. But so far these socks have taken all my hot-water soaks, baking soda blasts, bleach washing, hanging in the sunshine in stride.
Every time Rylan races to his Sunday school class with Ms. Marcy and throws off his shoes, I worry.
Do people think I never scrub my floors? Or that I don’t make Rylan change his socks?
Matt asked me the other day as I lamented about the state of my family’s socks, “Why don’t you just buy dark socks?”
And I fired back, “Have we ever met?”
See, I’m one of those typical “Type A” personalities who likes control and win a little too much. I’ve told you about my schedules and anxieties about things that shouldn’t matter that much. But they do.
It’s pathetic, I know. It’s a problem, I know.
But, NO, I’m not going to give in to the gray-sock bully. I’m going to keep right on Googling my problem, seeking the advice of those who’ve gone before me and praying for a solution.
God decided that half of my family of six would be boys. And it seems boys play in a whole other laundry ball game. Their dirts a little dirtier, their grass stains are a little deeper and the magnitude of their grime is more wide-spread. And I’m still learning the ropes.
I love my boys. But I’m not real fond of their socks.
As seen in the Lawrence County Record
www.lawrencecountyrecord.com
www.lawrencecountyrecord.com
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