::throws her hands in the air::

When my oldest was a toddler, all his dresser drawers were labeled. He had separate places for socks and shorts and shirts and pants and jammies. I PRINTED PICTURES OF THE ITEMS AND TAPED THEM TO HIS DRAWER FRONTS. Putting laundry away was like an episode of Mr. Roger's Neighborhood. I may have sung songs about it. It was insane. I was insane. It was my OCD/Type A Mother's dream. 

Fast forward six years and two more kids later and I've thrown up my hands on it all. As long as the clean clothes are in the dresser, the drawers can still relatively shut and the dirties (AND ONLY THE DIRTIES. Washing a shirt that's still folded makes me want to call down fire from heaven.) end up in the hamper, I'm like LIVE AND LET LIVE. Hakuna matata, perfectly folded pajamas. I'm just trying to keep everyone alive until bedtime. INCLUDING MYSELF. 

"Oh, you need clean undies?? You better get to diggin'. Check the back of your bottom drawer 'cause I'm pretty sure you've shoved a pair back there at some point. God gives us all trials and refining fires. THAT is your needle and THAT is your haystack. May the odds be ever in your favor and may God guide you on your journey." 

One day, they might care more about specific drawers for specific items but TODAY IS NOT THAT DAY. Until then, I'll just drink more coffee to suppress the panicky feelings I get when I see the amalgamations they call their dresser drawers. I'm currently only up to 7 cups a day. Bless it. 

Thanks for stopping by, y'all! ~Katie