This is basically a shout-out to my favorite-est Mommy in the whole world... mine!
I was at work looking down at my pants and thinking that they looked a little wrinkly. That's weird because I fold my pants and hang them in my closet. That's when I was struck with the thought that I actually fold my laundry. I know. You're thinking... duh! Of course you fold your laundry. You just don't understand.
As an extremely emotional teenager (Sorry Mom and Dad) I HATED laundry. Granted, when I did laundry at this time it was for four brothers and my parents. That's a lot of laundry, especially compared to these days when it's just my own and I do it like once a week. Anyway, the point is that I've never really thought about NOT folding my laundry. I don't know if I'm subconsciously still trying to seek my mother's approval or if it's just been so much a part of my routine that I don't think about it.
This leads me to think of other things that I do. Like vacuuming and cleaning the bathroom and doing dishes. I don't quite do them like I used to when I lived with my parents but I still do them. I'm particular about things that are TOTALLY my mother in me. Like dish cloths... they're good for like a day and then they need to be washed. Showers... are to be taken everyday. Beds are to be made in the mornings before leaving (Yeah, I still make my bed because my Mom always wanted me to.) Clothes pulled from the dryer are to be folded immediately so they don't get wrinkly. Certain shirts are to be ironed- not left wrinkly from the dryer. (Yeah, I believe in ironing my nice shirts and my skirts and anything else that requires ironing.)
That's not to say that I do everything all the time. I usually think about it and then put it off for awhile. But the point is that eventually I get to it. It makes me laugh because when I was the emotional teenager from a few years ago I never thought there'd be a point in my life when I'd care about stuff like this.
I never even imagined that I'd want to have a clean house. That I'd want my clothes to look neat and ironed and folded in my drawers. That I'd want to pick up the chunks from the middle of the floor. I never imagined that I would turn into my mother. ... And I'm okay with it. I'm okay with being my mother. She's taught me more than I ever expected. There are some days when I do something and I realize... my mom does the exact same thing.
So Mom, if you're reading this, thanks. For everything. For riding on my butt over not keeping my room clean and for not doing the laundry the way you wanted (especially folding your towels right. ha ha.) Thanks for teaching me how to take care of myself. Thanks for loving an emotional girl who never understood why you wanted the chunk picked up off the floor.
You never realize what you appreciate until you don't have it around anymore. Thanks for everything Mom! Love you!